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He was all I craved.
Still do.
And it’s only in those rare dark moments of weakness, like now, that I dare think it. Dare to think about Ridge and how I wish for a repeat.
Thoughts of his captivating blue eyes, wide open and locked with mine, and firm, full lips parted while he came, strip me bare every time.
There was something about him watching me as he came undone…the hottest thing ever. It’s as if he gave something to me that no man ever has.
A piece of him at his most vulnerable and most euphoric and I can’t shake the feeling that was a first for him. He’s never let anyone see him like that before.
I can’t do this and not here with the Kincaides crawling all over the place. I wipe my face, hoping to erase any sign of my crying. Travis will go berserk—like he needs an excuse—if he thinks Ridge Kincaide or any of them made me cry.
Stepping from the shadow of the tree, the outline of my brother’s head and broad shoulders fills one side of the truck cab. He rakes a hand through his mop of dark hair, and pride swells within my chest. I’m proud he kept his word and stayed put.
When I told him about the pregnancy, I was never more ashamed in my life, and that’s saying something given our parents.
The baby wasn’t the problem, even though unplanned and the added burden of another mouth to feed. No, my humiliation was in coming clean about the baby daddy.
I might as well have told him it was Satan himself. Travis isn’t a religious man, but the Kincaides run this town and haven’t made it easy for folks like us to make a decent living.
He’d fought me tooth and nail, insisting Ridge didn’t deserve to know about the baby, fearing how worthless I’d feel next to the likes of the Kincaides and the other townspeople here tonight.
Travis is all I have. We have each other and it’s always been like that. I can’t remember a time when we weren’t on our own, fending for ourselves.
With the town drug dealers for parents, we never had much of a family unit. Mom and Dad were either dealing or holed up in our piece of trash trailer, riding their latest high.
You see, unlike smart drug dealers—if there’s such a thing—Otis and Arlene Hallman like to sample their product. A little too much. And their addiction and stupidity make it super easy for their suppliers to control them.
Our parents may deal the drugs, but we have always been dirt poor. Every dime they ever make goes back into their bloodstreams. Now being poor isn’t a crime, but in this town it might as well be.
Travis and I had to beg, borrow, and steal to get by. During my childhood, not a week went by where we didn’t spend our days and nights trolling trash cans and dumpster diving for food. Anything to fill our bellies. Anything to keep the ache of starvation at bay.
I swing open the passenger door of the cab and hop in, slamming the truck door for good measure.
“It’s done.” My elbow rests at the base of the passenger side window, fingers combing into my wild head of hair.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing Ridge Kincaide to get the hell out of my head.
“And?” Travis starts the truck but doesn’t put it into gear.
The oppressive weight of his expectant stare causes me to boldly turn to face him. I’m grateful for the twilight so I can hardly make out his disappointment. Or maybe it’s mine, staring back at me like a mirror.
Darkness chases the pinky-purplish light painted across the sky. Full darkness will soon descend upon us and allow me to hide my raging emotions without scrutiny or questions.
“Is he gonna do right by you?”
“Do right? This isn’t the 1900s.” I snort. “What are you talking about? He isn’t going to marry me, and I wouldn’t agree to it if he tried, so don’t even go there.”
I jab a finger at him, and the bastard has the balls to laugh, shoulders shaking as he lays the back of his head on the seat rest.
This isn’t funny, but I smile, nonetheless. If anyone can make me laugh at the disaster of my life, it’s my brother.
“Shit, nah. You don’t want to be saddled with the likes of the Kincaides, no matter if they’re richer than God.” He spins his upper body in my direction, bringing his face close to mine. “But he needs to pay your bills. Make sure you have what you need to take care of the baby.”
Travis is no longer joking.
His tone is now a deep rumble, serrated and ready to cut. And only because he’s so close, I don’t miss the tic of the muscle in his jaw. He’s strung tight and unable to hide how he hates this as much as I do.
