Dr. Langdon led Kaitlyn into the family room, where everyone had gathered around a big stone fireplace that contained a lively, crackling fire. Rafe’s oldest sister Evie’s two kids, Michael and Julia, colored in front of the fire with Cade’s little daughter, Ava. Nonna settled into a big easy chair nearby, propping her feet up on an ottoman, her bull terrier, Rocket, nestled in at her side. On the other side of the room, against the windows facing the lake, stood an enormous Christmas tree waiting to be decorated.
The peaceful scene was shattered by what was going on inside Kaitlyn’s head. That Dr. Langdon’s special wine was going to blow this happy holiday gathering to dust, and she had no way to stop it. There was no way they would be able to avoid spilling the baby news once the wine was poured.
Watching her friends with their husbands didn’t calm her either. Sara sat on a couch with Colton, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Kaitlyn caught them exchanging a little secretive glance filled with love and contentment. Gabby handed Ava some juice and then sat down next to Cade, their hands intertwining. Both of her friends looked so happy, and she couldn’t help the little twitch of envy that shot through her.
Kaitlyn picked a spot near Hazel, who was absorbed in her ever-present phone, despite attempts by Sara and Gabby to engage her in conversation.
Rafe gave Kaitlyn a sympathetic look and joined her. “Hey, Hazie,” he said. “Checking the weather?”
Hazel—and Kaitlyn too—gave Rafe an Are you crazy? look. After which Hazel resumed scrolling. Rafe gave Kaitlyn an I tried shrug.
“Michael, that’s my crayon,” Julia, who was six, suddenly said to her little brother.
“We’re sharing, Julia,” Michael said.
“I’m going to tell Mom you’re using my special pink,” she said.
“I want pink too,” Ava, who was four, chimed in.
Rafe left the couch to interrupt potential crayon wars. He got down on all fours, pawing and roaring. “I’m a big, hungry lion,” he said, “and I need to eat. And you three look like the perfect size.”
“The perfect size for what, Uncle Rafe?” Michael asked, approaching slowly. Julia, older and less cautious, came even closer. Ava eyed Rafe suspiciously and lingered near the crayons.
Rafe grinned and, still in lion mode, licked his chops and swiped a paw in the air. “The perfect size…for a snack!” He let out a playful roar.
Michael and Julia screamed and tackled him by jumping on his back. Ava, who was not used to Rafe’s antics, dropped her crayons and hid behind Nonna’s chair.
“Okay,” the big hungry lion said. “Maybe two will be enough.”
Kaitlyn laughed and noticed that Hazel couldn’t help but laugh too. The shenanigans were a buzz of distraction from the dread that was coursing through Kaitlyn’s bloodstream.
“Ava, it’s okay, sweetie,” Gabby said, getting up and peering behind the chair. “Uncle Rafe is only playing.” She turned to Rafe. “Aren’t you, Uncle Rafe?” She pantomimed to Rafe to say something to make things better.
“It’s okay. Ava,” Rafe said loudly. “Come on out and you can help me eat your cousins.”
“Rafe!” Evie, the oldest Langdon sibling, said at the same time as Gabby.
“Uncle Rafe, you’re silly,” Julia said, giggling.
“I don’t think violent play is appropriate,” Evie said, but by this time, the kids were in full lion mode themselves, including Ava, who ran out from behind the chair roaring.
“Maybe it’s just about having fun,” Joe, Evie’s husband, said as he scooped up his son and tossed him over his shoulders.
Evie laughed in spite of herself. Rafe was such a goofball—but a kind goofball. Kaitlyn hated the out-of-control feeling that threatened to overtake her as she watched him with the kids, like all her resolve to steel herself against his charm was melting around the edges. Yet she could not tear her gaze away.
From across the room, Sara caught her looking at Rafe and sent Kaitlyn an encouraging smile. Gabby waggled her brows when Rafe took his seat right next to Kaitlyn. Ugh, it was difficult having your two best friends watching every move.
Just then Rafe leaned his head close and whispered, “When the time comes, just pass the wine this way.”
“Okay,” she said, swallowing hard and trying not to notice despite all her worries how good he smelled, like fresh air and some spicy shaving cream.
“His last batch was pretty good,” he said with a grin. “And besides, I like wine.”
“That’s what you said last September and look where that got us,” she mumbled. Oh, did she really just say that? He gave a little chuckle and looked at her with amusement glinting in his dark eyes.
“Not funny,” she whispered, her mouth curving up a little despite herself.
He shrugged, looking…adorable. “It’s a little funny.”
Okay, it was funny. In a horrifying way that was going to soon play out in front of his entire family.
“Happy birthday!” Rachel called, suddenly carrying in the cake, fresh out of the oven and lit up with a thousand candles. Everyone sang the birthday song, with Rafe bellowing loud and long, hamming it up for the kids, who loved it and followed right along.
“Make a wish,” Gabby prompted.
Kaitlyn closed her eyes. She didn’t wish for herself. She wished for her baby. That he or she would know they were loved, no matter how the rest of it turned out. That one day he or she would laugh and play with cousins in this same room. And that Kaitlyn would be strong enough to navigate her relationship with Rafe—whatever it was. She opened her eyes, making sure to focus on the cake and not look in Rafe’s direction. Until he spoke.
“Hurry up, Katie,” Rafe said. “Unless you need some help blowing those out, now that you’re thirty-two. Geez.”
She tried to look annoyed at him, but he was sitting there, tossing Michael upside down while the other two kids clamored for their turn.
“Don’t frown,” he teased. “You still look young.”
She finally did the honors amid clapping, cheering, and well-wishing. Hazel plucked off the candles, licking the icing off the bottoms of a couple and shocking Kaitlyn by saying how amazing it was.
Everyone was laughing and exclaiming over how delicious the cake looked. Their faces were happy, expectant, kind.
“Rachel, would you mind cutting the cake?” Kaitlyn asked, passing over the knife Rachel had brought from the kitchen. “I think I’ll start a pot of coffee.”
She walked into the kitchen, certain that no one thought anything of her leaving just then. She just needed a minute to get her head straight.
Tonight’s celebration wasn’t unusual. She’d been part of this family since she was ten years old. But despite Rafe’s belief that his family would take their news in stride, she couldn’t help but think it would dramatically change things, change her place in the family. And oh, what if they really did push for her and Rafe to get together for the sake of the baby?
She’d just started the coffee and then leaned on the island, taking a big breath, when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Hey, need some help?” Rafe asked.
She spun around at the sound of his voice. “Oh. Rafe, hi. Just starting a pot.” She thought about how great he was with those kids…yet how he’d said he didn’t want to be a father. He was filled with contradictions, and she couldn’t help but wonder if that was a line he used to protect himself—to protect his heart.
“Okay, just wondering.” His gaze rolled over her in that way he had, not missing a detail.
He walked into the pantry, grabbed a brown paper bag with handles, and pulled out a pretty silver box, wrapped with a red bow. “Happy birthday,” he announced. “From me.”
Her already sensitive stomach plunged. “You didn’t have to get me a gift,” she said.
He leaned close, his hand propped on the counter beside her. “Open it,” he said, nudging the box toward her. “You only turn forty once.”
“Will you stop with the teasing?” She waited for him to parry, to jest. But he didn’t. He just stared at her with an odd look that she couldn’t quite read.
Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Okay, no more teasing. Just open the gift, Katie.”
She turned the box over in her hands. “What is it?”
He gave a secretive smile and shrugged. “You’ll have to see.”
“It’s pretty,” she said, shaking it, noting that it was a little heavy.
“I wrapped it myself.”
This was saying a lot, because the bow on top was curled by hand. “Since when do you know how to make bows?”
“Since YouTube taught me. Open it already.”
She set the package down on the distressed oak table and ripped open the paper. Inside was a coffee maker. A high-end, expensive one, the kind you’d buy a couple for a wedding gift.
“It’s a coffee maker,” he said.
“You’re kidding,” she said with mock surprise.
“Do I ever kid you?” he quipped right back.
“Um, all the time.”
“Not all the time.” He flashed a Rafe grin. Sweet, adorable, and irresistible. She immediately shifted her gaze back to the gift.
“It’s a very nice coffee maker,” Kaitlyn said. “But Rafe, I own a coffee shop, remember?”
He laughed. “And yet you don’t have a coffee maker like this.”
She looked at him, perplexed, as he tapped his finger on the text on the side of the box. “‘Brews a single cup or a whole pot,’” she read. “‘Thermal carafe. Grinds the beans.’ Great features.”
He shook his head at her sarcastic tone, took the box out of her hands, and pointed to the picture on the side like she was just not getting it. “It’s programmable. Charges your phone too.”
She looked at him. Was he crazy?
“You can set it, and your coffee will be ready at four thirty a.m. on the dot.”
“Oh. I see,” she said softly. The gift was thoughtful. It was nice. And she knew exactly where he’d gotten this idea. She’d told him how hard it was to wake up so early, and how she never had time to make herself coffee before she headed out to open the café.
It was an odd gift but also oddly…touching. And she didn’t have the heart to tell him she wouldn’t be drinking any coffee for a while. Instead she made the mistake of looking at him. His face held a look of careful anticipation. That look—innocent, hopeful, and more than a little boyish—undid her.
Heck, he could have given her spray-painted rocks and she would have gotten emo about that too.
Before she could think, she kissed his cheek. It was rough with stubble, and warm, and he smelled like simple Dial soap and shave cream and…Rafe. She lingered a few seconds too long, unable to pull back. He stiffened, and she thought he was going to pull away.
Suddenly his arms came around her, encircling her waist. She sucked in a breath. Or was that him? Unable to move, she stood frozen in place, searching his eyes.
“Happy birthday, Katie,” he whispered, his voice soft as spun silk.
And oh, she felt the current between them, strong as always, brought on by camaraderie and banter, but sustained by pure, unholy chemistry. She found herself tipping her head toward him, drawing closer, needing to kiss him. He drew her in despite her will, pulled her right in like a magnet, to a place where she forgot time and space and who she was, replacing all her worrying and fretting with a desire so potent it made her tremble. The urge to cradle his face in her hands nearly overcame her. She had to ball her fingers into fists to stifle it.
His dark gaze bore right through her then flickered to her lips.
His mouth came down on hers, direct and bold. He softly stroked her lower lip with his tongue, and when she opened her mouth on an uncontrollable sigh, he curled his hand around her neck to pull her closer.
She breathed him in, all of him, his wonderful, masculine scent, while it took her less than a second to respond to his kiss, tangle her tongue with his, and press herself against his warm, solid body. He tasted like…Rafe, like an indescribable, unforgettable essence she knew as him and only him, and it took her, straight as an arrow shot, right back to that night in the cabin, to every last, desperate kiss, every urgent touch.
The memory flooded her with a bittersweet panic. Her hands flew to his chest to find balance, to try to make sense of the onslaught of sensation coursing through her, but she was lost, the breathless feeling of being in his arms once again nearly overtaking her. His heartbeat pounded under her hand, strong and rapid, matching her own as it hammered in her ears.
Rafe’s hand wandered under her sweater, skimming the bare skin of her back. Weak-kneed, she leaned into him, worried she was no longer capable of standing on her own. He didn’t seem to care, his kisses turning more urgent, deeper, hungrier.
“Hey, everyone sent me in here for the coff— Oh, whoa!” Hazel had walked into the kitchen and saw them, then suddenly covered her face with her hands.
Kaitlyn jumped back but Rafe stayed in place, somehow managing to look completely nonplussed. Without missing a beat, he calmly stepped away and began taking down coffee mugs from the cupboard.
“You’re not—you’re not interrupting,” Kaitlyn said, fighting the urge to tidy her hair, her clothes, her life. “We were just—getting the coffee, right Rafe?”
He cleared his throat. “Right,” he said, before he gathered up all the red stoneware mugs and set them together on the island. “We’ll be right in.”
Hazel had beelined out of the kitchen. Amid the chinking of the mugs as Rafe organized them, Kaitlyn forced herself to take deep breaths, to slow down her furiously pounding heart. She was busying herself with finding sugar and creamer when she felt his hand on her arm.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he said. His words made her heart crack a little and caused a sudden burst of anger to well up from somewhere deep inside. Scanning his face, she found it impossible to know what was behind his impenetrable mask that only a moment ago had been so different, so tender, so expressive.
Of course he didn’t mean it. Because that was typical Rafe. But for a few moments, there had been a different Rafe. One who’d affected her more than any other man she’d ever known. Kaitlyn straightened up, unwilling to let him see her confusion, her hurt. “I didn’t either,” she said indignantly. As usual, she’d gotten too close, allowed him in too far.
She knew better than to give in to the currents of attraction that had always seemed to flow so fast and strong between them.
Gabby walked into the kitchen, coming to a sudden halt when she noticed the dead silence and Kaitlyn staring at Rafe, who was turned away, his hands on the island, head bowed.
“Hey,” Gabby said, offering Kaitlyn a little smile. “I can take those coffees.”
“Oh, sure,” Kaitlyn said, her voice full of forced cheer, gathering the cups—and her senses—as she pulled out a tray and Gabby helped her load it.
They’d done it again. Gotten carried away. Rafe was capable of sweeping her away to a place where the consequences of behavior like that didn’t seem to matter. But it did matter, as the rest of their world was about to learn very soon.
* * *
What had just happened? Rafe leaned over the kitchen counter as he struggled to pace his breaths and slow the ferocious rhythm of his heart. Why couldn’t he keep his hands off her? In his parents’ house, no less?
Struggling to grasp hold of some sense of control, he walked into the small mudroom. On impulse, he shrugged into his coat and walked outside, sucking in deep breaths of the icy air and hauling several good-sized stacks of wood to the back door, grateful for the physical labor. He contemplated going for a walk to clear his head but decided returning to his family and doing his best to pretend nothing had happened would be the wisest tack. As he hung up his coat, he nearly ran right into Hazel. The overhead fixture was off, but in the borrowed light from the kitchen, he could see her standing right near the door, in front of a shelf under the window that held bags of cans and bottles that needed to be recycled.
And Gabby’s purse. Which, he was sorry to see, Hazel had her hand inside of.
She made two mistakes. One was to withdraw her hand quickly, and the other was to let him see the look in her eye, which was a mixture of guilt and fright.
If she was going to become a criminal, she’d have to work on that tell.
“Need something?” he asked, keeping his voice calm and even.
“Just looking for a cigarette,” she said.
“Yeah, Gabby smokes those all the time now that she’s pregnant.”
He crossed his arms, playing tough scary adult, stalling for time as he debated how to handle this. He wondered if this—catching someone red-handed and wondering what the hell to do next—was what Colton felt like on a daily basis. Rafe suddenly felt grateful he was a firefighter and not a cop.
“Gabby doesn’t smoke, obviously,” he said. “And that happens to be her purse.”
“How do you know this isn’t my purse?” she asked.
“Because it’s not.” Because he noticed things. Because Gabby’s purse was peppered with buttons with weird sayings like “Squeeze the Day” and “Orange You Glad It’s Friday?” Plus it had a bright pink faux rabbit’s foot attached to the handle, compliments of Cade’s little daughter.
Hazel sighed. “Please don’t say anything,” she said in a hoarse whisper, not looking him in the eye.
Rafe looked at the girl. She was skinny, and with her pale complexion and charcoal-black hair, she gave the impression of being small and easily breakable and…alone.
Now what? He didn’t want to keep secrets from Kaitlyn. Their relationship was confusing enough without him doing anything that she would interpret as a betrayal. But how would she feel to know that this girl she’d done everything to help was still up to her same old ways? Wasn’t Kaitlyn dealing with enough right now?
“Okay, fine,” he said.
Hazel let out a big breath.
“But,” Rafe continued, “there’s a price to pay for my silence.”
Frowning, Hazel asked, “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, now that you have an income source, you should be saving some money so you don’t have to—um—find it in other places. So every Friday go cash your check and bring me forty bucks.”
“You’re going to take forty dollars from me every week? That’s extortion!”
“Relax, kid, I don’t want your money. We’re going to put it in a bank account for you so that you have a place to go for money instead of other people’s pockets. As for what else you can do…I’m not sure yet. Let me think on it. But this has got to stop. Your aunt’s trying to help you, you know?”
Hazel screwed up her face, and he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. What was clear was she was done with the conversation. “She might think you’re hot, but she doesn’t really think of you as boyfriend material,” Hazel said over her shoulder as she walked back into the kitchen.
Rafe understood Hazel’s words were meant to bite, a last parting volley. And he had to admit that her statement was accurate. He wasn’t boyfriend material. Then why did her words sting?