There he is.
Alex.
My smile is so wide it hurts, but I don’t care. I haven’t seen my brother in almost six months. He drops his bag just before I leap into his arms and squeeze with everything I have. He does the same. Warmth and comfort envelop me as tears prickle my eyes. “God, I’ve missed you,” I whisper, a mix of happiness and relief settling in my chest.
“Missed you more, Ash.” He sets me down and gives me a once-over. “You look great,” he adds with a smile.
I snort, because I know he’s just being polite. My hair is still wet and limp, I’ve got bags under my eyes big enough to carry luggage for a week’s getaway, and I’m still sporting an extra five pounds in my gut. Okay, fine more like ten pounds, but who’s counting really? “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to lie to me. I look like hell.”
But at least I’m smiling.
He goes to reply, but whatever he says is lost on me. A movement behind him catches my eye, and for the first time, I realize we’re not alone. I glance around his broad chest to see who’s with him. My heart starts to hammer so loud, I’m sure they can hear it throughout the neighborhood. The mystery guest is impossibly tall and muscular, with a very familiar dimple in his chin. Even though he’s wearing Aviator shades, I can feel his eyes on me like a caress. Or a dagger. I’m not sure which.
But I know who it is.
Tate.
What I don’t know is why the hell he’s here, on my doorstep, smiling like he doesn’t have a care in the world. My world changed because of him.
Because of that one night.
The night that gave me Rowan.
Chapter Three
Tate
She’s even more beautiful than in my dreams. Her hair is still wet, probably from a shower, and she looks like she’s barely slept all week. Yet, there’s a light in her eye, a glimmer of enthusiasm and bliss that I’ve missed. Sure, all of it is aimed at her brother and not at me. What’s aimed at me has a little more fire behind it. Anger, even, and I have no clue why. I’m not the one keeping a big fat secret from everyone around her.
“Ash, you remember Tate, right?” Alex asks, looking back over his shoulder and smiling at me.
His sister, on the other hand, does not smile. She glares, hard and intimidating. It’s pretty fucking cute but telling her that is probably a bad idea. “Hey, Ash,” I greet, a little singsong in my voice.
Her eyes narrow into little slits. “Tate, yeah. What are you doing here?” she asks, trying to keep her voice breezy, but it betrays her. Her tone is very frigid, icy.
Alex gives her a look. “He came with me,” he says, giving me an apologetic look over his shoulder. “Is that okay?”
She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out right away. Ashtyn gives her brother her full attention and smiles softly. “Yes, of course. Why don’t you come in? Both of you.” There’s a touch of irritation in that last part, and it makes me grin.
“This place is great,” I hear Alex state as we step inside Ashtyn’s house, and he’s right. It’s a decent little place with a spacious living room and big picture windows. The floors are old hardwood, with scratches and marks from probably years of moving furniture, and the couch is well-loved. It’s nothing like the firm, black leather sofa in my penthouse. The crazy part is, I can see her curling up on that blue and brown couch with a blanket to read a book a hell of a lot easier than I can see her trying to get comfortable on my sofa.
“Thanks. It’s a little messy, but I haven’t had much time lately to clean,” she replies through a yawn. Ashtyn is still completely ignoring my presence in her house, which baffles me.
Unless she’s guilty of something…
I glance around again, taking in her space with new eyes, and barely see what she’s talking about. Does she think this is messy? She should check out my place on Monday morning, after me and a few of my teammates watch old game films, eat pizza, and drink too much beer. I pay a pretty penny for someone to come in every Monday and Thursday and clean for me, but it’s well worth it.
Ashtyn doesn’t have a maid, I’m sure, but her place is still tidy and loved. Sure, there’s a glass sitting on the end table with a little water in it and some rags are thrown on the coffee table that are probably used, but her house is still cheerful and organized. Even though I don’t know her too well, it feels like her, and for some reason, that draws me in.
I take the bags of food I’m holding and set them down on the coffee table. Alex insisted on grabbing lunch for his sister, knowing she probably hasn’t had time to eat yet.
“So, when do I get to meet my nephew?” Alex asks with a beaming smile.
The mention of the baby has my eyes darting from one side of the room to the other. The baby isn’t in here but is here somewhere. Most likely sleeping in another room. I’m not sure why my heart is suddenly beating like a racehorse at the prospect of seeing Ashtyn’s son, but there’s something oddly exciting and comforting at the same time. All night I mulled over the details I knew, including the timeline. It’s too close to ignore, which is why I’m here today.
To find out the truth about her son.
Ashtyn smiles easily when her brother asks about the baby. “He’s sleeping, but I’ll go get him,” she says, finally glancing my way for the first time. There’s something in her eyes I’m not expecting. It’s more than anger. It’s disgust and maybe a little resentment. I really wish I knew why she’s so pissed off at me. I’m not the one keeping all the secrets.
She disappears down the hallway, her hips naturally swaying a bit in her cotton shorts. They’re not pajamas, but definitely look comfortable and casual. I can picture her lying around and reading, the material hugging the globes of her ass. It’s enough to make my cock jump with excitement in my shorts.
Traitorous appendage…
Ashtyn returns a few minutes later with a blanket bundle in her arms, the softest grin on her pretty face. Alex moves, meeting her halfway. My eyes are glued to the scene, at the moment shared between brother and sister. I’ve never been a sentimental or nostalgic man, but witnessing my best friend meeting his nephew for the first time does a little something in my chest.
“Damn, Ash, he’s beautiful,” Alex says, the awe very evident in his voice. I watch as he reaches with his big finger and gently slides it across the infant’s face.
“Isn’t he?” she whispers. She looks back up at her brother and adds, “Do you want to hold him?”
“Uhh, yeah,” he replies, glancing around and spying a bottle of hand sanitizer. Alex quickly squirts some on his hands before returning to his sister. I hold my breath as she carefully transfers her son to her brother’s arms.
“Jesus, he’s so tiny.” I realize when Ashtyn looks my way, I said that aloud.
She gives me the side-eye, a touch of defensiveness when she replies, “He is a perfectly healthy seven-pound, ten-ounce baby.”
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not saying he isn’t, Ash. It was just an observation.”
She continues to glare at me, which I return. She’s so fucking hostile, and to be honest, it’s turning me the fuck on. Bad.