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The jackass doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t back down, silently communicating something to him in her weighted stare. Something he seems to understand.
If his growl is any indication, he doesn’t like it, but he still gets it. “Fine. But if he says or does one thing to hurt you—”
“I’m not going to hurt her,” I snarl.
“I wasn’t talking to you, asshole.” He points a finger at me, daring me with his eyes to make a move.
“Travis. Enough.” Her tone is stern, but the edge of her voice is tinted with weariness, making me worry I’ve taken this too far already.
Fuck, maybe this guy,Travis, is right—maybe I’m already hurting her without even knowing.
He gives another growl of frustration, but still does what she’s asked, shaking his head as he paces away from us.
“I’m sorry—”
She whirls to me, cutting off my apology. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing or who the hell you think you are, but you have no right to come up on us like that. Why would you hit my brother? You’ve got no right at all, Ridge Kincaide!”
Her brother. Travis Hallman.Goddammit.
“Shit, Lace…I know…I’m an asshole.”
“Yes, you are.” She crosses her arms, which I’m sure she does to make herself look tough, but only succeeds in plumping up her ample chest and making my cock take notice.
How in the world am I turned on right now?
Guess when it comes to this woman, it doesn’t matter if we’re lovin’ or fightin’, my body likes her all the same.
“I’ve got no excuse for it,” I tell her, talking about hitting her brother, but maybe also the growing bulge in my pants. “I just saw you two together and not realizing who you were with…well, I guess it set something off in me.”
Dark eyes bore into mine, and I have to drop my gaze to keep my head on straight.
“That makes no sense at all.”
She’s right, and I know it, but it doesn’t change a damn thing. I still want to drag her out of here—away from her brother and the prying eyes of Main Street. I want to lock her up somewhere safe, somewhere we can be alone. Somewhere I can ravish her amazing body, and then maybe talk a spell before falling back into bed and doing it all over again.
“Is everything okay with the baby?” I ask, forcing my thoughts back to where they belong.
She sucks in a sharp breath like I’ve slapped her and takes a step back.
My eyes whip back to hers, concern radiating from every part of me. “God, Lacy, please tell me it’s all good.”
A subtle shake of her head has my insides crumbling, until she squeaks out, “It’s fine. Everything is good.”
I swipe my hand over my face, clearing away the sweat, and practically double over with relief.
It’s the oddest damn thing because I never really pictured myself as a father. I mean, I always figured I might have to consider it someday, to continue the Kincaide family legacy and all, but it was never something I set my sights on. Maybe it’s because, with eight siblings, the pressure to reproduce wasn’t imminent.
I always thought, if it was meant to be, then it’d be.
But now that it’s happening—now that the idea of fatherhood is breathing down my neck—I’m not as disassociated as I expected. In fact, part of me is ridiculously looking forward to it.
Only, that’s the part of me that wants to believe I can have it all. The part of me that wants to pretend I can turn my back on all the bad shit I’ve done, all the ruthless things I’m going to do in the future, and just be a simple man. A cowboy and a dad.
It’s the idealistic part of myself that says, “Guess it was meant to fucking be, asshole.”
Not knowing how to express any of this to Lacy, or if I should even try, I give her a tight smile and murmur, “Good. That’s really good.”
I feel a bit like an awkward schoolboy. Or a lame horse getting sent out to pasture. But what the hell am I supposed to do? How do I handle this situation now that I’ve fucked it all up?
