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Becka had never quite mastered that trick.
“Minx, what’s wrong? What did I say?”
She shook her head and swallowed past the burning in her throat. “It’s nothing. I’m just really glad the baby will have awesome grandparents like your parents.”
He narrowed his eyes but seemed to reconsider pressing her for more information. Aaron’s smile was only the slightest bit strained. “What sounds good for dinner?”
“Taco truck tacos.”
Now he was really looking at her like she’d grown a second head. “You know, from what I read, pregnancy is supposed to create strange cravings but peanut butter and taco truck tacos...” He shook his head and offered his arm. “I wouldn’t dream of standing between you and your desired food.”
“Smart man.” She gingerly placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, feeling a little ridiculous, but then they were moving and there was no more time for second-guessing. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Becka inhaled the crisp autumn air and sighed. “I love this city.”
“Are you originally from here?” Aaron studied the street and turned them left.
“Sort of. We were born down in Pennsylvania, but Lucy and I both grew up here. Not in this part of town, obviously, but in the city.” It felt good to stretch her legs, good to walk next to Aaron and talk as if the future wasn’t hanging in the balance.
Pretend there isn’t a pregnancy. Pretend this is a real first date that might have happened if you hadn’t run scared.
It sounded good in theory, but Becka didn’t make a habit of dating. Dating led to expectations and demands and compromises—usually involving her. And that was if she even bothered to get past the lackluster text conversations and unsolicited dick pics to actually go on a date in the first place.
No, things were easier when everyone’s boundaries were clearly defined, and she avoided anyone who might tempt her into changing her internal rules when it came to romance and love.
Until now.
There was no avoiding this.
They dodged a power-walking man on his phone, and she continued. “I know the American dream is supposed to be to raise your kid in a small town with some random field in the distance and a whole lot in the way of overalls, but I think it’s bullshit. This city has a culture and life all its own, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I hadn’t spent my formative years here.” It struck her that their child would be raised in the city. She pressed her hand to her stomach, staggered by the thought. “I sound preachy, don’t I?”
“I’d say passionate.” He smiled. “And small-town living isn’t for everyone. I might have grown up in one, but I happen to agree with you when it comes to the city.”
They walked for several more blocks while Becka chewed on that. She both wanted to know more about Aaron’s past and didn’t. This is dumb. Being jealous that he grew up in an unbroken home is the height of stupidity. She took a deep breath. “Tell me something no one knows about you.”
“I watch poker tournaments on TV.”
She shot him a look. “You’re joking. That’s like saying you watch NASCAR or golf.”
“I know.” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “It’s my deepest, darkest secret. I can’t get enough of that shit. Playing the odds and being able to see the entire table’s hand at once is addicting. Even while I’m telling myself I should turn it off, I get sucked in and can watch for hours.”
Becka could see it. His mind obviously ran analytical, and there were few games more analytical than poker. She frowned. “Why not blackjack?”
“Blackjack, you’re playing the odds. Poker, you’re playing the rest of the table. It’s a combination of playing the odds and reading the people you’re playing against that I love.”
“Remind me never to play strip poker with you,” she muttered.
His slow smile made her stomach flip. “Didn’t I tell you? That’s what we’re doing after dinner.”
Aaron meant the words to be a joke. He wanted to get to know Becka better, and though there were certain things playing poker with her would tell him, strip poker was sure to short-circuit his brain the same as every time they got naked together. But she licked her lips and flashed a grin and suddenly he was looking at the woman he met three months ago instead of the cagey one who’d been living with him for the last week.
Not wanting her to switch back—which always seemed to happen when she let herself think too hard—he tugged her closer and slipped his arm around her waist. “Okay, you convinced me. Strip poker is on the table.”
She laughed. “It was never on the table, though that was an excellent try. Very nice line. You get a B minus.”
