Ready For It (MacAteer Brothers Book 2) Read online

  The uncertainty in her tone was warranted. I’m not exactly Miss Chastity. I dated a lot of men and slept with most of them at least once. Sometimes I strung along two simultaneously. I tried to time it so that just before they genuinely got into me, I’d break it off. Commitment-phobic? Absolutely. Plays hard to get? Definitely. Grade A bitch? Guilty at times. I let no one close enough to me to learn why. Not even Bev.

  “It can only be his.”

  “Are you going to tell him? I think you should.”

  “Yeah, I will. I don’t want to, but you’re right, I should. I’ll think of something to say.”

  My stomach gurgled. Fucking thing! It rejected everything I put in it all day, and now it wanted to be fed. Grrr!

  Bev got up from the bed. “Come on, Mellie-Jellie. Let’s go downstairs before the testosterone brigade gets more worried and decides to make an appearance. I have chicken noodle soup, crackers, and bananas. All good foods for bad stomachs. Even if it comes back up, you still need to keep drinking liquids so you don’t get dehydrated. I still have the bible, and I’ll just give it to you. Not much has changed in the newer editions.”

  I swallowed the last of the ginger ale and sucked a piece of ice into my mouth. “I have a Bible somewhere already.”

  “Not that Bible. The mom bible, What to Expect When You’re Expecting. Read it this weekend, and on Monday, you’ll come here for breakfast and we’ll get a plan together for you. Dr. Reule is the OB-GYN I used. Terrible bedside manner, but one of the best for prenatal care. Your general practitioner may have a referral you like better. No more drinking, and stay away from smokers as much as you can.”

  “Yes, Mother.” The word resonated in my head. Mother. Omigod! I’m gonna be one. I’m gonna be a mother. Fuck!

  The panic must have shown, as Beverly leaned down and folded me in her embrace again. “It’s gonna be fine, Mellie. You have a lotta love in this family. We’re all with you one hundred percent. Now go brush your teeth, ’cause your breath is worse than Muttface’s. Take a few minutes and come outside. Better now?”

  I laughed and tried not to direct it at her face. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’m not sure if I can stay, though. I think I may just go home.”

  “You sure you’re steady enough to drive? Maybe you should sleep here tonight. I can pull out the futon in the game room for Owen, or he can use his camper. I don’t think he’ll mind giving up the guest room for you.”

  “Thanks for the offer, Bevvie, but I want to be in my own space in my own bed. Besides, the kids will ask questions, and I’m not ready to give them answers right now.”

  She nodded and stood up. “Come outside when you’re ready. Take your time and holler for me if you need help.”

  “Thanks for everything, Bevvie.”

  She put on a soft face and spoke with genuine conviction. “I’m happy for you, Mellie. Now go get those teeth brushed.”

  She left, and I shuffled into the bathroom to find my toothbrush sitting in the flowery ceramic holder. I spent enough time in this house that it made sense for me to keep one here. The strong mint flavor helped clear my head. I spat in the sink, rinsed, and spat again. My reflection looked back at me. My eyes had the beginnings of dark fatigue circles. I leaned in closer and squinted. Make that fatigue circles helped along by smeared mascara. Home sounded great. Bed sounded better.

  “Fuck me,” I told my glass image. “I have to tell my parents. That’s gonna be a fucking circus.”

  I could cuss to my heart’s content since the kids were outside, but I probably should start tempering that now. I didn’t want my baby’s first words to be “dammit” or “fuck off.”

  Is this how mothers think? Shit, I have a lot of work to do.

  I put a dab of lotion on my finger from Bev’s pump dispenser and wiped away the traces of mascara smudges. This method worked better than water and would help keep wrinkles at bay. At thirty-six, I wasn’t old, but I had every intention of fighting the aging process with every weapon in my arsenal. As long as people regularly told me I didn’t look my age, I thought I was winning. I left the bathroom and made my way downstairs.

  Owen was there at the bottom, watching me as I carefully descended with my hand on the rail. His eagle eyes and grim face told me of his concern. I thought it sweet, but I was still embarrassed. The times a man had held back my hair while I puked numbered exactly one, and I didn’t care to keep a scorecard. I smiled and bounced down the steps like I didn’t just faint in his arms. I’d gotten good at faking over the years.

  “Thanks for catching me. Not one of my more notable moments, eh? I’m okay now, but I think I’m gonna just go home.”

  “I’ll drive.”

  Huh, this is new. “No, thanks, O-man. I can manage.”

  He shook his head.

  “What? I’m not going home? I beg to differ.”

  “I’ll drive.” The words were soft but sounded like a command.

  Tendrils of anger drifted up my spine. “You’ll drive? Yeah, you’ll drive me up the wall. I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

  “Not alone.”

  Jeez, what is with this guy? “I don’t need a fucking nanny, Owen.”

  “What’s going on?” Connor appeared, along with Beverly. I breathed a sigh of relief that the kids were still outside. I really needed to start watching my language.

  “Your brother thinks he’s gonna drive me home.”

  “Not a bad idea. You still look a bit shaky,” Bev chimed in while handing me a plastic grocery bag. “Here’s a can of soup, a sleeve of crackers, and some bananas. Put a few crackers on your nightstand and grab them in the morning before you get out of bed. That will help with mor—ah… if your stomach’s still bad tomorrow.”

  So she hadn’t told Connor yet. That was a relief. I love my BFF for not telling on me, although I didn’t need to keep this a secret. Pregnancy becomes rather hard to hide, eventually.

  “Either he drives you or I drive you.” Connor’s declaration was both irritating and endearing. I liked that he was concerned about me, but I was used to being on my own.

  “I can handle it. I’ve been sick by myself before and lived to tell the tale.”

  “You’re not by yourself anymore. You’re a capable woman, but I’d feel better if you’d let one of them take you home.” Bevvie’s logic kicked in and defused my temper before it flared.

  “Owen, then.” At least he won’t ask a lot of questions.

  The giant man grunted once, plucked the keys from my hand, turned, and walked out the door.

  Well, fuck, I guess I’m leaving now.

  I hugged Bevvie. “Thank you for the soup and stuff. You’re my favorite person, even if you do get bossy.”

  “And you’re my favorite PITA.”

  I shot her the bird by scratching the side of my nose with my middle finger before I followed Owen’s retreating back.

  “I guess you’ll take an Uber back here?” I said to the behemoth next to me. He had to be over six feet tall. I was five foot eight, and he towered over me. Broad back, broad shoulders, short buzz cut, close beard. Bear. The man was a bear.

  “Yeah.”

  He may be a bear, but definitely not the cuddly type. More like a grizzly in a bad mood. I supposed being folded up in a sports car wouldn’t make anyone his size very happy.

  The drive to my condo took the longest fifteen minutes of my life. The only words spoken came from me as I gave directions. By the time we pulled up to my place, I was so ready for him to be gone and me to be on my couch with a bottle of wine and Netflix. Scratch that. No more wine. Chicken soup and bananas. Uh, yummy? Not!

  The condos were in sets of four to a building, and mine was the one on the upper left. It took two sets of stairs to get to my unit. The architect had designed these condos in accordance with the topography of the mountainside. They were built at odd angles to each other and the driveways were a bitch to get into. I loved the beautiful view of the city, but someday my knees would ask why I c
ouldn’t have picked a home that had an elevator.

  “I’m up there.” I pointed to my cozy condo. “You want to come up while you call an Uber?”

  I didn’t particularly want Owen in my space, but it was the right thing to do. He did drive me home, even if he didn’t want to talk to me.

  He grunted, which seemed to be his major form of communication. Lovely.

  Truthfully, it was good to have him there. I worked out at the complex gym regularly and had a Stairmaster machine in my bedroom that I actually used for daily cardio workouts and not as a handy clothes hanger. Normally, climbing these stairs didn’t faze me at all, but after a day of fasting and vomiting, the task became laborious. By the time I got to my front door, I was huffing and puffing and slightly dizzy. Owen carried the bag of soup and crackers, as I couldn’t even lift that bit of weight. He probably would have carried me if I’d let him. He still had my keys and opened the door with a deft twist.

  I flopped on my overstuffed plush sofa, breathing hard and watching the room spin. “Do what you gotta do, O-man. I need a minute.” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes with every intention of just resting. Sometime later, I woke up to Owen’s concerned face. He leaned over me with one hand on my shoulder and a tray of soup, crackers, and a banana in the other. It looked like he’d made himself at home in my kitchen.

  Anyone else going through my stuff uninvited would have pissed me off. For some reason, Owen’s exploration didn’t bother me. Probably because he was trying to feed and take care of me. I could count on one hand the number of people who did this in my life and still have fingers leftover.

  I sat up and took the tray from his hand and set it on the glass coffee table in front of me. “Thank you. That’s so sweet.”

  He nodded and lowered his wide frame into one of the low-slung matching chairs. I flashed a picture in my head of him settling into an oversized recliner, picking up the TV remote, and relaxing after a long and hard day’s work. Very domestic.

  Instead of the remote, he opened his phone and began typing. How did those gigantic thumbs manage a tiny digital keyboard? I shook my head and grabbed the remote to click on the TV. A mindless sitcom appeared. Not one I watched, but I let it play simply to have some noise in the room. Owen kept at his phone, while I slowly ate the soup and crackers. My stomach did a happy dance now that I was putting something in it that would stay down.

  I glanced at the man ensconced in my chair. Even though his knees were almost at his chin, he seemed comfortable. He concentrated on his phone, and I guessed he was texting someone. I realized I knew very little about the man other than that he was Connor’s brother, had a twin named Garrett, two other brothers, a sister, and worked construction. That was it.

  Time to do a little recon. “So, Owen. How long are you in town?”

  His focus stayed on the screen, and he shrugged.

  “Do you like the city?”

  He put out a hand and waggled it in a so-so gesture.

  “Think you’ll stay and find work?”

  Another shrug. Fuck me, I figured out a long time ago he doesn’t talk much, but this is ridiculous.

  “Is it just me you don’t want to talk to, or are you naturally shy?”

  He raised his eyes to meet mine. Damn, he was a good-looking man.

  “Shy.” The low rumble of his voice spread from my ears to my toes in a delicious thrill.

  I couldn’t help myself. I burst into laughter. “Good one. At least you’re honest.”

  He rewarded me with a big grin. “Better?”

  I thought he was asking if I felt better. “I’m good. You don’t have to babysit me anymore. Did you call that Uber yet?”

  “Cancelled.”

  “Why?”

  “Sick.”

  “You’re not feeling well?”

  “You.”

  “You planning on spending the night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not happening, big guy.”

  “Sick.”

  He was either the most stubborn man in the world or the most obtuse. If I flipped a coin, either side would be right. “I’m not that sick.”

  “Worried.”

  “I’m not worried at all.”

  “Me.”

  I got it. He was worried about me. I could’ve burred up and gotten angry, but his face showed genuine concern, and I had to admit, it was nice. “That’s really sweet, and I’m flattered that you’re anxious about me, but I can promise you, I’m fine. I’ve eaten the soup. I’m drinking the water, and I’m not running to the bathroom in vomitus delirium. Don’t get me wrong, but right now, I need my own company more than I need yours, okay? My plans are to crash in the next ten minutes with a good book.”

  No reaction from him other than to hand me his cell phone. “Number. Text if t-trouble.”

  I laughed. Most of the time when a guy asks me for my number, he has some cheesy line to go with it. Owen wasn’t asking me on a date or flirting. He simply wanted my number so he could check on me. “Okay, big guy.” I typed in my number and handed him the phone back.

  He looked at the name I listed, chuffed, and grinned. My Favorite Girl.

  I grinned back. “You know it’s true. Now get that Uber back and get outta here so I can go pee and get to bed.”

  Owen lay back on the creaking bed and put his hands behind his head. Beverly hadn’t waited for him to return before going to bed. She had kept a plate warm for him since he hadn’t eaten yet, and he made a mental note to thank her for the consideration. He couldn’t ask for a better sister-in-law. Connor had stayed up long enough for Owen to get in the door and eat. He kept talking to a minimum, as both of them were tired and ready to crash for the night. No mention of Melanie’s condition came up, but Owen already knew. He stared at the ceiling and replayed the conversation.

  “I’m about six or eight weeks, I think. I took the test this morning. It’s for real. I’m knocked up.”

  He hadn’t meant to overhear something private. He had been outside the door, worried about Melanie’s state, and when he heard her crying, he’d had to stop himself from running in and doing… doing… what?

  Owen flopped to his side, and the bed shuddered. The queen-sized frame barely fit him.

  Yeah, what could he do? Stand over her staring? His stuttering speech kept him from talking much. Part of it was psychological and came and went depending on whom he was conversing with at the time. He spoke longer without tripping over his words to people he knew well, but these were very few beyond his family. It was also something that embarrassed him to the point he’d rather not talk at all. One- and two-word sentences were usually safe. Three pushed it. Four words… well… that was when something when wrong.

  My favorite girl. If only she realized the truth of it. Beautiful. The word rolled through his thoughts. Smart. Funny. Sad. Hurting. And the big one: Pregnant.

  A light scent of something spicy and exotic wafted up from his pillow, and he inhaled deep. Melanie’s perfume. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, she smelled so good. He admitted he had a crush on his sister-in-law’s best friend and also that he could do nothing about it. Melanie had never noticed him in that way, and he had resolved that she never would. The closest he would ever get to touching his dream had been when he lifted her limp form in his arms. The fear for her safety still sat in his heart, and he wished like hell she had let him stay. He wanted to take care of her, even if only for one night.

  What was the baby’s father’s name? Peter? Owen knew Melanie dated a lot of men, and this Peter fellow was another man in a long line of them leading to her bedroom door. Did it bother him that she changed partners so often? Maybe a little. She was an independent woman and had the right to make her own decisions, but his concern centered more on why she never settled on just one man. When she had insisted on being by herself tonight, he hadn’t liked it, but he’d backed off. Respect was something he understood and lived by. She deserved it as much as anyone else.

  Hmph. This Pet
er fellow was so damned lucky. If I had a shot at being Melanie’s man, I’d fight tooth and nail to stay there.

  The long day took its toll, and Owen drifted off to sleep with his nose buried in his pillow, breathing in the scent of unreachable dreams.

  Chapter Four

  I turned the colorful coffee cup on the table and glanced at my watch. Eleven fifteen, and he still hadn’t called, texted, or shown up. His constant tardiness was one of several reasons I broke up with Peter. He had a law degree, but instead of practicing in a firm, he chose to work in the courthouse basement archives, pushing and filing a mountain of papers. The job paid well, but it was boring. Totally mind-numbing boring.

  Peter agreed to meet me at the Double D coffee shop. The converted double-decker bus had the coffee shop in the lower level, tables in the upper, and a few patio sets. It was as eclectic and fun as the downtown part of the city. Plus the owners treated coffee making as an art form.

  I sat outside at a tall bistro table and sipped at the cup of decaf. Normally, I regarded coffee without caffeine as a sin, but I didn’t know if that would be a problem for the baby. Already, I had given up my nightly glass of wine. Weekend bottle binges were out of the question.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Peter’s tall, lanky form bent down and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ll go order something and be right back.”

  I only smiled and nodded. Damn, he looked good. Jacket and tie, styled short dark hair, crisp blue eyes, runner’s build. My physical attraction to him hadn’t gone away. I picked up my napkin and began tearing it into little pieces.

  He returned and sat across from me. “I’m so glad you called me, Mel. I’ve truly missed you.”

  Truthfully, I kinda missed him too. Even if he did have the most mundane job in the world, he was a sweet, smart man and always treated me with respect. In bed, he was not very adventurous, but still generous enough with his attention that I usually came. He maintained a beautiful and precision-sculpted body by visiting an upscale private gym daily before work or running as weather permitted. Why did I break up with him again?