First comes love.
Then comes marriage.
Then comes a-
Unfortunately, life is not a checklist, and there's no white picket fences and baby carriages. After a failed long and stable relationship, Arryn Rivera tries her hand at online dating and gets mo...
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Rhys knocked back the last bit of whiskey in his glass and stared at the downtown skyline. Christmas lights blinked and glowed announcing the season. Well, it was December first. He could see the tip-top of the state capitol dome from his balcony. The takeover was moving forward. The new owners had requested another interview with him, including his family. Rhys needed to prepare Arryn.
He turned, went back inside, and flopped down onto the oversized chair. Following work, he could have gone home, but it was agony to be so close and not touch her.
Funny how he'd put demands in place to punish her, and it'd turned out he was the one suffering. Every night he wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she lost her breath. Have her spooned into him. Rest his hand on her stomach and feel their daughter move. But when he thought about those things, the wedding day scene with Devon came into view. The way she smiled up at him caused a fire to burn in Rhys' belly, and he reminded himself she'd be with his friend if she could.
Jealousy was a wasted emotion, but for the life of him, he couldn't stop. The worst part was that it caused him to act like an idiot saying and doing things he instantly regretted.
He finished the drink and started to pour another but decided that it was a bad idea. Numbing himself with alcohol wasn't the solution. He wasn't sure what was, but it wasn't Balcones. At least he wasn't that big of a chump.
Guilt tightened his chest. He'd been a jerk when she'd mentioned making a list of names for the baby. He picked up a notepad and hovered the pen over it. They could name her after their mothers. That would be funny.
At first, he thought it was his imagination, but the knock came again, this time louder. He glanced at his watch. Almost midnight. For a moment, his heart picked up speed in hopes it was Arryn. She knew the address from their hook-up weekend. She'd followed him there to pick his truck up before they went to his house.
What a ridiculous notion. She'd never come looking for him. She'd not even texted back when he'd sent the one telling her he wasn't coming home.
He set the pen and pad aside, then ambled to the entry, and pressed his eye to the peephole. Shit. Laken. What the hell was she doing here? One way to find out. He pulled the door open.
Dangling her shoes in one hand and a bottle in the other, she weaved from side to side. "I'm so glad you're here. I wasn't sure you would be. Are you alone? I need to pee." She shoved past him, dropped her spiked heels to the floor, set the champagne on the counter, then disappeared into the bathroom.
A few minutes later, she returned and threw her arms around his neck. "Can I stay here tonight? I got into a fight with my date and he left me. You believe that? The jerk ditched me!" She rubbed against him. "Oh God, you feel so good. I've missed you." She tiptoed and pressed her lips to his.
He pulled her arms from his neck and stepped back. "I'll call you a cab."
"No. It will take forever. Traffic is wall-to-wall out there."
