The urge to pull Cara into my arms and reassure her everything will be okay pulses beneath my skin, but I fight it back.
Every damn time she starts to become vulnerable, she throws our night in my face. How am I supposed to care about someone when she makes it so damn apparent she despises the time we spent together?
Shame, because while she regrets fucking me, besides her sudden change in opinion on that Sunday morning, Cara had been the best I could ever remember having. It wasn’t just physical, although that definitely surpassed any expectations I had when she first suggested we head to my room. Our connection went beyond physical. Beyond mental. Something happened when she was so close to me and even with my hand on her back, trying to comfort her, I still feel it.
Which makes me the fool. If Cara showed one hint of wanting another go at me, I’d probably trip over my shoes in my hurry to kick them off and get us naked, even knowing she’d regret it afterward.
The car ride to my building is relatively quiet other than the jazz music playing from my playlist and the infrequent protests Cara made early on.
I shut her down with a firm scolding. “It’s my kid too and you might not be okay with this, but I take care of my responsibilities. You’re staying at my place and I’m not discussing it further.”
Her pale blue eyes had gone wide and she’d turned her head away, meekly replying, “Okay.”
It’s the last word she spoke.
Now, pulling into my spot at the John Ross building where I’ve recently bought a penthouse level condo, Cara makes a squeaking sound from the passenger seat.
“You live here?” And her tone isn’t kind or surprised, more shocked mixed with disbelief.
In all the things Jenna and Dan told me about Cara Thompson, neither mentioned her being judgmental. Mostly it was all good things, her artistic abilities and desire to make a living creating art. Her bubbly personality. All of it was so damn spectacular in person, I must have missed something.
Disappointing.
“Yep.” I’m snippier than I should be, but I’m losing the ability to care. A lot of people see a man covered in tattoos and think thug. Cara never showed me this side of her and the surprise in her voice reeks of judgment.
Perhaps I’ve had her pegged all wrong from the beginning. Or she fooled the hell out of me at the wedding.
“Business must be doing well.”
With my jaw clenched, I keep my mouth shut and grab the prescription we picked up on our way and open my door. I slam it harsher than I intend, the sound echoing in the underground garage. I’m at her door, opening it just as she does the same.
I grip her elbow, holding her steady, and guide her to the elevator where I enter my keycard.
She must notice my irritation because she brushes her dark brown hair off her shoulder and tugs her elbow out of my grip. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she rubs her arms as if she needs to keep warm.
For once, I don’t bother trying to help her.
“Did I say something wrong?”
You know, this morning, I was a guy, slightly hungover, more slightly regretting the pretty little redhead I took home from a bar last night. She’d been a gymnast. She hadn’t disappointed me in the least with her flexibility or her strength.
I woke up, gave her a kiss, and tapped her backside as I escorted her out the door to her waiting Uber, knowing I’d never see her again. Then I went to work thinking it was going to be another completely boring Friday.
The last thing I expected was this girl in front of me, so innocent and spectacularly sexy in my memories, to show up, proclaim I’d gotten her pregnant, puke all over my office, and faint in my arms only to spend six hours taking care of her. All so she can continue apologizing and acting like her life is over because some asshole who owns tattoo parlors ruined her one brief night of sexual irresponsibility.
Fuck this.
The door opens and I step in, leaving Cara behind me. It goes against every instinct I have, but screw her.
When I turn around, she’s still outside the lift, eyes wide. “Coming?”
“Yeah.”
I wait until she’s securely inside and the doors are closed before punching in the floor to my condo. It’s a penthouse, but not the only one on the floor, although it is the largest. I swore to Irvin when I was ten that if he’d help me get out of my neighborhood, I’d buy the largest home I could, and I’d keep watch over the old place.
I never knew the man I idolized as a kid was a man who invested well, and purchased more life insurance than imaginable. So imagine my shock when he passed away my second year of college, leaving me the beneficiary of millions of dollars’ worth of investments and insurance.
I did the one thing I promised him I would. Bought the biggest place I could find that would overlook all of Portland, the river, and in the distance, my old neighborhood along with Mount Hood even farther in the distance. On a sunny day, I can see all of it from my wraparound balcony and every day I step out there, I think of Irvin, and all that he gave me.
And none of it is financial.
“Why’d you come see me today?” I ask Cara. She jumps at the sternness in my tone and I don’t really care. I’ve been so worried about taking care of her today I haven’t actually had time to process the news she gave me.
I’m going to be a dad.
In the reflection of the mirrored doors, her brows pinch together. “I told you. I thought you had a right to know.”
“How noble. And that’s it? You were just going to stop by, let me know I was going to be a dad, and leave?”
She jerks, her face paling. I’m being an ass and I can’t stop myself. The day has been a complete whirlwind and all I’ve been able to think about is her…but what about me?
“I, well, I hadn’t gotten that far, I guess. But I thought we’d talk about it, you know, and if you want to have a part in it?”
“If I want to have a part in it? In what, being a dad? What, from what you know of me, gives you any indication I wouldn’t want that?”
She shakes her head, wisps of hair slapping her shoulders before cascading down her chest. “I…I’m confused. Are you mad at me?”
“No, Cara.” I shake my head. Swiping a hand down my face. All the memories I have of her slam into me, making me groan. “I’m not mad. Every guy likes to hear that it’s a fucking disaster when you sleep with him.”
“Braxton—” She starts but the elevator slides to a stop and the doors open.
I step out, hearing her feet following me, and I’m at the door to my place, throwing it open when she reaches me.
“Come on in. I’ll show you to your room.”
I hold the door open for her with my arm extended but she doesn’t enter.
Her cheeks are no longer pale, but the color of strawberries, and she’s nibbling on her bottom lip.
She’s done that before, when she suggested she wasn’t ready for our night at the wedding to end.
Damn her for being so enticing when I’m such a damn mistake.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Doesn’t matter.” I wave my free hand forward. “We should get you something to eat and you need more rest.”
She steps toward me, not the open doorway. Lifting her hand, I keep my gaze on hers as she moves it like she wants to press it to my chest. At the last second, she freezes and lets her hand fall to her side.
Dropping her gaze, she nods once and steps inside. I follow her, letting the door slam shut behind me, and I move around her until I’m past the short entry hallway and in the kitchen.
Behind me, she gasps, and the sound shoots straight to my dick. Fuck her.
Fuck this entire situation. I can easily back out now. Tell her I want nothing to do with the baby. Pay for her medical care, sign my rights away, give her the chance to find a guy she actually wants to raise a kid with. As soon as I think these thoughts, I steady myself against the kitchen counter.
That’s not happening.
The kid inside of her is mine, and I wouldn’t be the man Irvin helped raise if I washed my hands of this entire thing.
We’ll just have to make the best of it.
“Look.” I brace my hands on the counter, straightening my arms, and turn to face her. She’s staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that line this side of the condo. The view is incredible. I can stare at it for hours, and some days, I do, with nothing but a glass of Glenlivet straight in my hand and my feet kicked up on my coffee table.
But now, all I see is her, tears slowly streaking down her cheeks, terror on her face like I’ve slapped her or she’s remembering a nightmare.
“Look, Cara,” I say again, swallowing down the part of me that still wants to be an asshole. “I get it. You didn’t mean for this to happen. And I apologize for being a dick, but you have to give me some credit here. You’ve dropped an awfully large bomb in my lap today.”
“I understand.” She wipes tears away, rubbing her fingers together. The emotion on her face dissipates, but she keeps her eyes on the view. “If you’ll show me where I’m sleeping, I’m going to go to bed. It’s late and I’m tired.”
Her voice is blank. Not angry. Not hopeful, and not disappointed.
Just blank and I’ve done this to her.
“You should eat.”
“I really just want to sleep.”
“Cara—”
“Please, Braxton.” She spins on her heels, facing me, defeat stamped all over her slumped shoulders. “I’m tired. You can process this bomb I gave you and we’ll talk tomorrow. Okay?”
It’s not. Nothing about this is okay, but there’s not much I can say. She’s been sleeping all day and her color is finally normal again, but she’s still pale and the purple circles under her eyes seem to be darkening by the minute.
“Okay.”
I push off the kitchen counter and open up the bag containing her prescription. “The doctor said you won’t need these tonight, but you should take it first thing in the morning. I’ll get you settled and see if Stella brought the crackers I asked for and then I’ll bring them back to your room.”
I hand her the bottle along with bottled water from the fridge and start walking. “Your room is this way. It’s just a guest room, and nothing special, but you have your own bathroom. I’ve got a cleaning lady who comes every week so it should be clean. I don’t usually come in here.”
“It’s lovely,” she says, as we reach the room. My room is on the other side of the apartment, around the corner from the living room, past the office. If anything happens, I won’t be able to hear her.
Maybe I should sleep on the couch, just in case.
“Braxton?”
“Hm?” I jerk my head toward Cara. “What?”
“You look lost.”
I am. So damn lost. This urge to protect her and care for her is insane, and she can barely stand my presence. Fuck the problems I find myself in.
“I’m fine. Was just thinking. Is there anything you need?”
Her nose scrunches and she looks around the room. “I don’t have any clothes. Or a toothbrush.”
She sounds as lost as I feel. Who can blame her?
“I’ll get it. Be back in a few minutes.”
I leave, not bothering to close the bedroom door. While I hurry around my condo, I head to my room and snag an extra toothbrush—stopping as a small whine comes from my room.
“Shit.” I stop at Lucy’s kennel and crouch down so she can sniff my fingers. Her tan ears pull back and she scratches at the kennel door. “I totally forgot about you, girl. Stella take care of you? Yeah?” She sniffs and licks my fingers. An abused bullmastiff pup when I started fostering her, she’s now well over fifty pounds, and growing rapidly, but still thinks she’s tiny. She behaves more like a lapdog or kitten than the beast she appears to be. “Let me get Cara settled and I’ll take you out, okay?”
She yips at my fingers playfully.
“All right. All right. I’ll hurry.”
Lucy’s whine increases as I grab a T-shirt from a drawer and an extra toothbrush. By the time I’m done, she’s pawing wildly at the kennel door and I know the sign.
If I don’t get her out now, she’ll piss all over the place.
I make a quick detour to grab her training collar and leash and then I’m opening the door. I clip it on her but before I can tell her to heel, she tears out of my hold, bounding through the apartment.
“Lucy!” I shout, hurling after the eight-foot leash that’s trailing behind her. “Heel!”
“Oh!” Cara’s shout sends me into double time and I slide around the corner of the hallway, to see her squatting, ass to heels, her arms around Lucy’s neck as she nuzzles right up to her.
Bright, vivid blue eyes slam into mine and I’m struck stupid.
Lucy doesn’t like anyone. It took weeks to get her to stop trembling when she was dropped off at my place. She’d been badly abused and beaten by her previous owners. I’ve never seen her have this playful reaction to another human being before.
“I’m sorry,” I say, finding my voice. I close the space and grab Lucy’s collar, giving her a quick tug to pull her off Cara. “She usually hides from people, avoids them at all costs.”
“Oh.” Cara pets the top of Lucy’s head and slides her hand to Lucy’s ear, scratching it. “How surprising. She’s really sweet. What is she?”
“Bullmastiff pup. I’m fostering her.”
She smiles and it’s peaceful and sweet. Exactly like how I remember her. A strange heat burns my chest. “She’s big for a pup.”
“She’ll be a hundred pounds full grown.” An awkward silence descends and I hold out my shirt and toothbrush. “I grabbed these for you. I have to get her outside before she pees. Need anything else?”
“No.” Her smile vanishes and she gives Lucy another gentle rubdown as she stands to her feet. Lucy tugs on her leash and collar to get closer. To Cara.
I’m so struck by the dog’s reaction to this woman I barely register it when she stands and steps back into her bedroom doorway. “Thank you, again, for everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“Yeah.” My throat has gone dry though. She’s lost and vulnerable and so damn happy to see this dog that’s a pain in my butt even if she’s still sweet. Right now, Cara’s giving me a look that’s a mixture between apologetic and friendly, and I’m so damn tired of hearing her apologize and thank me today I can’t handle any more of it.
I want to kiss her light pink lips and pull her to me and press my hand to her lower abdomen even though I know I can’t feel a baby yet. And I want to do it all, while she wants nothing to do with me.
“Sleep well.” I’m gruff, but it’s necessary.
I’m going to have to learn how to be around Cara, help her through her pregnancy, and raise a kid with her. And I have to do all of that while trying to get over the intense physical reaction I have whenever she so much as glances at me.
Fuck my life.