“You yell like that, you’re going to wake the kids up.”
Dusty scrubbed his hands over his face. He should get the hell out while the getting was good. But no way would he leave Teressa to face having another child by herself. He’d do the right thing if it killed him. “Okay. You want to do this here, we’ll do it here. Sit.” He pointed at the toilet.
“What is your problem?” Teressa sat, for the first time looking a little curious.
“Mommy?” A small, worried voice sounded through the door.
Teressa started laughing. “You’re going to want to let Brendon in before he gets hysterical.”
It was a sign. He and Teressa weren’t supposed to take their relationship a step further. If they were, everything would have gone smoothly. Hell, who was he kidding? Nothing had ever gone smoothly between them.
He yanked open the door and glared down at the tiny boy hopping from one foot to the other. “Dusty!” Brendon blinked like he was going to cry. “I gotta pee.”
“Okay.” He stepped into the hallway, but his heart thumped over when he glanced back at Teressa. Her laughter had morphed into tears as she scooped up the pregnancy stick and tossed it into the trash.
“Mommy, are you sad again?” Brendon hugged her leg.
“No, baby. I’m just tired. Good on you for getting up to go to the bathroom.” She sidled past her son. “Dusty will help you, okay? I have to take care of...something.”
Again, Brendon had said. Are you sad again? He knew Teressa struggled with her life as a single mom, but he had no idea how much.
Tears pooled in Brendon’s eyes.
“What’s your problem?” Dusty barked.
“I can’t reach.”
Squatting down, Dusty mentally kicked himself as the kid started crying in earnest. “What do you need, Brendon?” Other than a kind, caring adult.
Brendon gulped back tears. “My potty.”
Potty. Right. He opened the only closet door and grabbed the white plastic potty. “You don’t pee standing up yet?” There was so much he didn’t know about kids. He placed the potty in front of Brendon and backed off to give him some privacy. Nothing turned the tap off faster than another guy watching you take a leak. When he glimpsed back to make sure Brendon was okay, the kid was sitting on his potty, staring up at him.
“Will you teach me to pee standing up at the toilet?”
Dusty folded his arms over his chest. “Now?”
Brendon shook his head from side to side. “Tomorrow.”
“Sure.”
Dusty fidgeted as he waited for Brendon to do his thing. Where had Teressa gone? They hadn’t even had a chance to talk about the baby. Oh, my God. His lungs collapsed, and he gulped for air. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or shriek with horror. In a few months, he was going to be a dad.
“You done yet?”
“Guess so.” Brendon pulled up his bulky pajama bottoms. The kid was wearing diapers. Why wear diapers if you didn’t need to?
“Okay, see you, bud.”
Brendon’s bottom lip trembled. “Mommy always tucks me in.”
“I knew that. But we’ve got to be quiet, because we don’t want to wake up your sister.”
When he scooped the little boy into his arms, Brendon held himself stiff as a board. He smelled good, though, like little kid and sleep. He laid Brendon in his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.
“Dusty?” he whispered with his eyes closed, his body still stiff.
“What?”
“Promise.”
“Promise what?”
“You’ll teach me how to pee standing up.”
“If you’re still awake when I get back from fishing.”
He watched Brendon as his face softened into instant sleep. Kids. They were amazing. He didn’t know the first thing about them, though. How did you know if you were being a good dad or not? There had to be some kind of manual on how to bring up a kid. He needed to start reading up on the subject, but the idea that he was actually going to be a dad felt so unreal, as though someone was playing a really bad practical joke on him. He wished he could go to sleep and wake up to find he was still a free man.
But that wasn’t going to happen. He was officially going to have a child of his own. Well, Teressa was going to have it, and the child would be theirs, not just his. He tiptoed out of the bedroom and went in search of the lady in question. He found her in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher. She didn’t look at him when he walked into the room.
He grabbed Teressa, pulled her into his arms and, before she could say a thing, he kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. She tasted so sweet and sexy at the same time. He loved how soft her mouth felt, how good she tasted.
And he liked how she clung to him, as if she needed help to stand up when he finally lifted his mouth from hers.
“No.” Her voice sounded husky, the same way brandy felt as it slipped over his tongue. No to him? To them? To sleeping together?
He kissed her again, brought his hips hard up against her, so she could feel what she did to him. She trembled in his arms. He liked that, too.
“We’re good together, Teressa. We could work with that.”
She leaned into him, her body warm and pliant. “It’s not that simple—”
He brought his mouth down on hers again before she could say anything else. What did he have to lose? He loved kissing her. Couldn’t get enough. Maybe he’d even get lucky and convince her they deserved a chance.
He stiffened at the thought. What was he doing? She’d just given him a legitimate out, but he’d been so...consumed with kissing her, he hadn’t been paying attention. Time to cool things down.
He dropped his arms and stepped back, noticing with satisfaction that her lips were red and swollen. “You’re a great kisser,” she said as she wiped the back of her hand against her mouth.
He wiggled his eyebrows, feeling inordinately pleased by her compliment. “I have other hidden talents.”
She snorted. “I’m well acquainted with your talents.”
“I wouldn’t say you were well acquainted.” A corner of his mouth hitched up. “I’m thinking we could use a little refresher course.”
She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “There are children in the house.”
“Right. Kids.” And she was the mother of his child, not one of his here-today-gone-tomorrow dates. Somehow that changed everything. She deserved respect and consideration. She deserved someone a lot better than him.
* * *
TERESSA LEANED AGAINST the counter for support and rubbed her arms, feeling cold and yes, lonely, damn it. There was no doubt she and Dusty were physically compatible. But she’d known that already. She had the opposite problem, actually. It was difficult being around him and not jumping into those heavily muscled arms of his. Dusty had earned his muscles from honest work, just as he’d earned those sexy crinkles at the corners of his eyes from squinting into the sun. Heaving heavy lobster traps was man’s work. She knew because she’d tried working on one of the local boats one summer. She did the job, but that was all she’d done that summer. Work and sleep. She had immense respect for fishermen.
She eased farther away from him, not that there was much room in her tiny kitchen. Tiny