“It failed. Not everything is foolproof. Hindenburg, Titanic, MySpace.” Her phone gives a melodic ping, but she ignores it, picking up her glass, soaking in the cool condensation. “We can get a DNA test if you don’t believe me.”
Here it is. He’s gonna walk. He’s only here to make sure I won’t sue him for child support.
He gives her a look like she’s stupid. “I believe you.”
She blinks. Her heart thumps against her ribs. “You do? I mean, good. You should. Because I don’t have sex.”
He arches a brow.
“All the time, I mean,” she stammers, rushing to clarify. “I mean, not with strangers. Not with just anyone. That one night, it was. . .”
“A mistake?” Solomon asks in a low voice.
Swallowing, Tessie looks down at her swollen stomach. “No.” She turns her attention back to him. “I wouldn’t call it that. Not anymore.”
Nodding, he lifts his beer to his lips and finishes it. His expression is thoughtful, his eyes on her face in that broody glowering way of his.
She purses her lips. “If it makes any difference, I did try to find you. I called the bar. I even had them put up posters.”
A smile, all but hidden behind that dark beard, twitches the edge of his lips. “Like wanted posters?”
She flushes, her face going hot. “Like missing persons.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, what I’m saying is, I thought you should know about Bear.”
A grunt. “Bear?”
“The baby. That’s what I call him.”
“Him?” This time Solomon’s fingers tighten on his empty beer glass.
She claps a hand across her mouth. “Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t—I—”
He holds up one mitt of a hand. “It’s okay.”
A muscle twitches in his bearded jaw. A smile? Grimace? A combination of sorts? A smimace? A grimile?
Brows knitted, he asks, “You found out?”
“Of course I did. I’ve had enough surprises to last me the entirety of my thirties.” She tosses her hair, ready to get her disclaimers over with and get Solomon Wilder off her island. “Look. You’re under no obligation with this pregnancy, okay? I don’t want anything from you. I don’t need money or child support. I’m prepared to do this alone. I can do this alone.”
A deep frown furrows his brow, his irises twin blue flames.
She peers over her shoulder to make sure she’s the source of that angry scowl.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Solomon says in a gruff tone that brooks no argument. “I want to be in my son’s life.”
“Oh.” Tessie straightens, his decisive words doing something twisty and warm to her insides. “Okay. Good, then.” She gives a firm nod, her gaze ticking to his. “Despite what people may think, I’m not that terrible. I’d never keep him from you.”
“Terrible?” He frowns. “Who says that about you?”
“No one. Everyone.” Ping. This time, she scrambles for her phone. “Oh, thank God,” she breathes. “The room’s ready.”
He’s still studying her. Still frowning.
Seeing that the conversation isn’t over, she wilts. “What do you want, Solomon?”
She knows what she wants. A bed. A pillow to scream into. A pregnancy compression stocking to strangle Solomon Wilder with.
“Look, I don’t know anything except that that baby’s mine and I’ll do the right thing.” He pins her with a look. “You’re here for a week, right?”
A pit of dread forms in her stomach. “I am.”
“Let’s make a deal, then. Let’s take three days to get to know each other.” He holds her in his unwavering gaze. “We’ll talk. Hammer this out. Figure out how to raise our kid together in peace.”
Momentarily caught off guard by his offer, Tessie fixates on Solomon’s face. His serious blue eyes with faint crinkles at the corners. His solemn expression. Is he truly as good of a guy as he claims to be? Will he really stay? Try to have a relationship with his son? It seems too good to be true. But then, he’s here, isn’t he? He followed her all the way to Mexico to talk. Maybe he is a good guy.
Maybe.
But she doesn’t need to know. Doesn’t want to know anything about him. He is an inadvertent sperm donor who gave her one of the best nights of her life. They have nothing in common except an agreement to figure out how to raise their son.
“You good with that? Three days?” Solomon spreads his large hands on the tabletop. “Then I’ll leave you to the rest of your vacation.”
No, she is very much not good with that.
As selfish as it is, she doesn’t want to be stuck with Solomon Wilder. Or share.
Her vacation.
Her baby.
She’s done this pregnancy thing by herself for the last six months, and to have this stranger, this man, elbowing his burly body in the way of her perfectly crafted plans is a pain in her ass.
Still, the sooner she agrees, the sooner she can get this over with. Get her vacation back. Get this brooding Buffalo plaid-clad mountain man out of her life.
Three days.
She can tough it out for three days.
Tessie shrugs and tosses her long blond hair. “Fine.”
A grunt. “Good.”
They shake on it.
Solomon follows behind Tessie as they’re guided to their room. Along the way, the porter goes on about resort amenities like champagne bars and dedicated concierge service and nightly themed parties. Tessie’s nodding along, but Solomon’s brain feels like it’s going to explode. All kinds of thoughts roll around in his head.
The first: You took my shirt.
Jesus Christ. That dumbass remark is what left his mouth after seeing her for the first time in six months? At the time, it was all he could think of. He saw her standing there in that lobby, stunned, and it knocked him off balance. Christ, he growled at her.
The second: A son. He’s going to have a son. He’s going to be a dad. The thought doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would. Bear. He repeats the nickname silently. He likes it. In fact, he goddamn loves it.
The third: Tessie and what to make of her. Uptight. Guarded. A far cry from the easygoing wild girl who bared her soul to him outside the Bear’s Ear bar. The smile that hit him straight in the solar plexus that night is replaced by a scowl that—does he dare say it—has her looking even more beautiful than he remembered. All long blond hair, ruby-toned lips, and delicate, elfin features. And the hell of it is he can’t keep his eyes off her. Her body’s slim and toned, her stomach a small hard ball of baby.
His baby.
The thought does something to his senses. Overrides all rational thought and replaces it with hardwired primal instinct.
“And here we are.”
The chipper announcement has him stopping in his tracks. The porter’s paused at the foot of the stairs leading up to a suite perched at the lip of the white-sand beach. The ocean churns, choppy. Basking on the sidewalk in the sun is a comatose iguana. Far off, the shrieks of seagulls. Percussive music swells in the distance.
It’s all too bright and too foreign. It’s not home like Chinook. Familiar. Steady. Still, he’s here, and he’ll make the best of it. If he can live in a cabin in the woods for seven years, he can stick it out on a beach for three days.
Every muscle in Solomon’s body locks when Tessie slips as she takes the first step, her heels sliding across the wet cement. He moves fast, darting forward to wrap a protective arm around her waist. She tenses as he yanks her close but holds on to him as she gets her bearings.
Close. So close her scent wafts between them, a mixture of coconut and sea salt. With her damn near in his arms, it’s easy to register how petite she is. Maybe five foot four without heels and all legs and belly.
“You okay?” he asks gruffly, doing his best to ignore the sweep of her stomach against his. The bat of her long, dark lashes does something insane to his brain.
“Fine. Damn heels,” she says, looking up at him with wide chocolate-brown eyes.
“Shouldn’t wear heels.”
She scoffs. Then she’s pushing off him and making her way up the flight of stairs.
Solomon shakes his head.
Stubborn. Good to know.