Every time I move, the faint soreness between my legs makes me more and more certain that I slept with him. Given how much we both had to drink, I think the chances that we had safe sex are next to zero. What would I do if I was pregnant with Reid Riggins baby? I’d say goodbye to the last shred of my life that wasn’t an utter disaster, for starters.
I grin at my own thought. Maybe it would be a disaster. But I’ve seen Reid with Roman. He’s a good dad. He’s a damn good dad. He loves that boy more than anything, and he was willing to put up with Tara’s bullshit for Roman’s sake, until she cheated. At least I don’t have to wonder about that part. Reid would make a great father.
The part I have to wonder about is whether he would want to be a father to a child that was the result of a drunken, confused encounter. An accident.
Tears well in my eyes and I shake my head. What a complete and total mess. First I learn that my bakery is going to be demolished unless I come up with an impossible amount of money, then this.
I grab my phone and open a Google search. How soon can I take a pregnancy test?
It doesn’t take long before I get the answer. Basically, even if I get a false result a week from now, it could be a false negative. And my period isn’t due for another two weeks. I run a hand through my hair and search the ceiling for answers, but all I get is the annoying hum of the fluorescent lights.
I picture Reid on his back, shirtless and hitting the underside of a car with that wrench of his while he rubs oil across his ripped muscles with the other. I can practically see his finger dragging down the smooth, cut muscles of his torso, rising and falling over the peaks and valleys of his abs…
I blow out a frustrated breath. This isn’t helping. I don’t know when it happened, but at some point my body clearly turned on me and started craving him. If my suspicions about last night are true, my body seriously turned on me. The last thing I need is to make it worse by fantasizing about him and adding fuel to the fire.
What I need is work. Space. I need to be farther away from Reid and his muscles than shouting distance. I need to be somewhere that doesn’t remind me a baby could be growing in my belly right now. It’s funny. The baby I’ve been secretly hoping for could really be coming, and all I can do now is feel terrified.
I wonder what my parents will say if they find out. They would know I lied about being engaged to a wealthy businessman. A mechanic’s baby in the belly of their blue blooded daughter. It will just be a confirmation of everything they ever predicted for me. All the times they made me feel like I was wasting my life and going down a cheap, degrading path… This will be the nail in the coffin. They will love knowing I have to accept their handouts and help to raise the baby. They will keep me hidden from their friends, like some dark, dirty secret. Their silly little daughter who thought she could make it without mommy and daddy’s money.
Whatever happens. No matter how bad it gets. I’m not going to them for help. They can leave a bag of money at my front door and I’ll just set it on fire. I can deal with this on my own. I’ve done it so far, and I’m not going to stop now. I’ll find a way, somehow.
9
Reid
Taylor is trying to figure out which lug nuts fit the part he’s working on while I’m busy sweating my ass off. It’s a little after lunch and the afternoon is already getting hot as hell. I don’t mind though. Roman doesn’t seem to either, as he struts around the shop with his shirt off and his little belly protruding proudly. I strip off my shirt and towel some of the sweat and oil from my body. It feels good to work hard. To work with my hands. I spent all morning wrestling the fucking water pump out of a Toyota, and my arms burn with the effort. Old man Hubert ran into his mailbox and jammed the thing into the engine block.
It’s a good exhaustion though. I’d take days like today over lazy days on the couch any time. Besides, I could use the distraction. I keep replaying Sandra’s face when I teased her about having a one night standl. Truth is I have no idea. I can’t fucking remember. I know one thing though, it wasn’t like I was carrying around a pack of condoms. If I fucked her… I rake a hand through my hair and sigh.
I expect to feel a sense of panic at the possibility. Knocking a girl up has never been in my plans. I wouldn’t give Roman up for the world, but he wasn’t in the plans, neither was having to marry his mother. I barely know Sandra. I mean, she was practically Tara’s shadow all those years, but it wasn’t like she and I ever talked alone. I grunted at her and she gave me unreadable looks. End of story.
Now she might be carrying my baby, and I should be fucking terrified. Except I’m not. I’d like to believe it’s just because I know it would solve a lot of my problems. I could probably convince her to marry me if she was having my kid. I’d meet the terms of my grandfather’s will. The shop would be protected from Mark’s efforts to turn this whole town into a strip mall. If that was all I cared about, I could understand it. I could accept that.
All this shit I’m feeling is more complicated though. Something about Sandra is driving me wild. I feel like a dog on a scent. I can’t get her out of my head. I can’t stop thinking about her. Worse, I can’t help feeling good about the idea that I might have gotten her pregnant. Marked her. Claimed her. Every time I think of her as mine, my chest swells with pride and a need to protect her.
Except that’s all just going to cause trouble. We shouldn’t be compatible. It seems like I end up somewhere between pissed off and turned on whenever I’m around her, and she has been driving me wild with the flirty smiles and the way she’s not afraid to mouth off at me. Whether we’re bad for each other or not, our bodies seem to have other plans.
I find Taylor working in a corner of my garage. He’s rubbing oil into a carburetor, looking down his long nose and squinting in concentration. I make sure Roman isn’t within earshot and then nudge Taylor, sitting on an overturned paint bucket beside him.
“Hey, Taylor,” I say quietly.
He quirks a blonde brow up, still focused on his task.
“You see me at the festival last night?”
“Sure,” he says. “I think everyone did.”
My stomach sinks a little. “What does that mean?”
He turns to look at me briefly, grinning. “You dragged Sandra Williams towards the lake and started yelling about skinny dipping.”
I fight the urge to laugh. This isn’t funny. Okay, it’s a little funny, but I probably shouldn’t make light of it. Regardless of what my dick has to say about the matter, getting involved with Sandra Williams is a complication I could probably do without. Even if it’s a complication that would un-complicate other areas of my life.
“Right,” I say. “Thanks.”
I cross the garage and flick Roman on the shoulder. He giggles, reaching to try to get me back, but I put a hand on his forehead. He swings his little arms after me, but doesn’t come close to reaching. I finally let him loose and he starts punching at my legs.
“Got me,” I say.
He smiles up at me.
“You ready for drum lessons?”