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“Goddammit, that’s the last thing I need.”
“Lunch?”
Ah, you innocent fucking fool.
But if Mack’s a fool, what the hell does that make me?
10
LACY
Jesus Christ, what did I just do? I kissed Ridge. Not smart. I went over there to tell him about his mother, to get her to back off. Next thing I know, I’m opening my mouth and my legs for him. I know better. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.
Stop it.We were both single, consenting adults at the time, and we had one night of pleasure. There’s no sin or shame in that.
My hand protectively rubs the now slight bump of my stomach. I’m still not showing. No one would see any difference to look at me, but I do.
I lick at my swollen lips and amble down the sidewalk, past the shops in town. Ridge is still taking up space in my head—or more specifically, his soft, firm lips against mine, warm tongue diving into my mouth, and those strong, demanding hands are. The way his fingers dug into my flesh. Hard and possessive. My panties are wet just thinking about it.
He felt so good. Too good. I wanted to forget all the bullshit and melt into him. Let him have me. Let me have him.
Dammit.
My hands drive into my unruly hair, and I curl my fingers into the thick strands and pull. The slight sting is the distraction I’m looking for.
My mind can’t be filled with silly, futile thoughts of Ridge Kincaide. I’m not a young girl with a senseless crush. We can’t be together. It would never work.
Still, I’ve never felt need that strong in my entire life. The need for a man. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was falling.
A prickly rush of dread sprints up my spine and my steps falter.
“Argh. Stop this.” I stomp my foot like a petulant child not getting their way, and a young boy and his mama give me a wide berth as they pass, as though my sulking is contagious.
For crying out loud, these hormones have my mind and body all over the place. Here I am acting out in the middle of town and jumping to foolish conclusions like I might be in love with Ridge.
Love? Where the hell did that come from?
Good God, I don’t love Ridge Kincaide.
I don’t even believe in true love and all that crap.
Love’s a useless, fairy-tale emotion, and it’s never helped me or Travis. When we were scared, alone, and starving, love never kept us warm, comforted us, and filled our bellies. Uh-uh, never.
Sure, I’ll love my baby. I already do, and a child needs love. But more importantly, they need shelter, food, and a stable home. I’ll do my best to provide all of that for my child, but a little help would be nice.
And as much as I hate taking handouts or worse, feeling like I owe somebody, Ioweit to my child to try and make things work with Ridge in a way that we’re civil to one another and our baby gets the best of both of us.
What matters is my baby has a father. No. Not just a father. I have one of those and look what little good that did me. No, this baby needs a good man, a caring and kind father, one that will always be there for their child.
Despite how different our worlds are, or that his family was sent straight from hell—okay, maybe not all of them, but most—Ridge is a good man. He would be a good father.
As much as I hate to admit it, and if Travis were here he’d tell me to shut up, if this baby can have both its parents and I have the power to make it so, then what I have to do is inevitable. My feelings, hurt or otherwise, don’t matter.
The whine of my name snaps me out of my wanderings, and I blink at the blonde woman standing in front of me.
“Lacy Hallman. That’s you, right?” The way she says my name, as if it hurts to acknowledge me, is as harsh and glaring as the sun.
It’s Chastity what’s-her-face. Ridge’s fiancée.
