“Forget a nursery. The baby could just sleep in here.”
As soon as I say it, I regret it. Ryder and I haven’t talked about a lot of things, including what’s going to happen after the baby’s born, or even after my placenta returns to its normal position, which could be much sooner. As beautiful as this house is, I don’t see myself staying here long-term, or bringing my baby home here.
“Actually, I had something else in mind,” he says, taking my hand again, and leading me to the other side of the house.
This time I don’t let go. His grin is too big, his excitement too contagious for me to spoil it.
“I’m thinking this would be a perfect baby’s room,” he says.
He opens a door, and I know exactly what he’s talking about. It’s got a beautiful picture window overlooking the ocean, and the trim is already painted white. I can picture exactly where the crib would go, a little toy box.
Currently, the room is empty, except for what I think is a full-size bed, and a few canvas bags lying next to it. I peek my head in the attached bathroom and closet, noticing Ryder’s clothes hanging there, mostly jeans and t-shirts, a few button downs. “Are you sleeping in here?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “My mom always talked about how her and my dad painted me and my brother’s rooms when they were expecting each of us. Put the crib up. I don’t want some decorator picking things for our kid, so I thought I’d sleep in here and maybe paint it at night when you’re asleep.”
Without even realizing it, I start to back out of the room. Ryder follows me, his arms stretched out. “Without me?”
“You can’t smell the fumes,” he says simply. I just shake my head. “Look,” he says, pulling out a big book. “Colors. I thought while you were off your feet, you could pick a color.”
“We don’t even know if we’re having a boy or girl,” I say, feeling the panic rising.
“Speaking of that,” he says. “I don’t really want to find out.”
“I can’t,” I say, heading toward the main part of the house, the front door. “I can’t do this.”
“Kailey?”
I turn around, and he’s right there, so close I can feel the heat of his body next to mine. “I’m not decorating your nursery for you!” I scream. “I’ve got to decorate my own. Somewhere. I just have no idea where.”
“Here,” he says, lightly taking me by my waist.
“I know you didn’t want this. I know this wasn’t in your plan.”
“I want our baby.” His fingers gently rub my belly, looking into my eyes. “I want you.”
“How do I know I’m not going to wake up one morning and find you gone, or off with some other woman?”
“How about the fact that I haven’t fucked a woman since you!” he barks. “Is that proof enough for you?”
That can’t be true, can it? But the thought makes me happy.
“It’s a start,” I say, sauntering off toward my new bedroom, panic suddenly forgotten and a new spring in my step.
I don’t have to turn back to know there’s a sexy smirk on his handsome face.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Dancing under the stars, I twirled you around
Swinging, swinging
Ryder
I’m pleasantly surprised when I see that Kailey is actually off her feet, sitting in the chaise lounge in her bedroom. Which I’m hoping to make our bedroom sooner rather than later. I linger in the doorway for a second, admiring how fucking beautiful she is. I think the pregnancy is making her even more so, if that’s possible. But I’m out of my element here.
Sex—that’s what I know about women. I know how to fuck them. How to make them come so hard they can’t see straight. But I don’t know how to live with one. The only part of a woman I can take care of is her pussy, and Kailey’s is out of commission—doctor’s orders.
I clear my throat, so she knows I’m there. Her blue eyes sparkle as she looks over at me. “What would you like for dinner?” I ask. I’m not much of a cook, but I’ve lived on tour buses long enough to know all the best takeout places and how to make just about anything in a microwave. “Pregnancy books recommend eggs and carrots.”
“Anything but the F word.” Now I know I shouldn’t be thinking about fucking, but what other F word is more important to a guy than fuck? “F. I. S. H.” she spells. “I can’t even say it without vomiting.”
“Okay, no F word,” I say, but can’t help the naughty smile on my face, knowing she’s fully aware what I’m thinking, but there isn’t a chance in hell that’s going to happen. I’ve screwed things up too bad with her, not to mention the doctor’s orders—no sex.
“I really want pizza,” she says, raising a hopeful eyebrow. “And fried rice.”
I wrinkle my nose, looking down at her petite frame and wondering where she plans on putting all that. “Both?”
She nods her head excitedly. “And a coke.”
“No coke. The books say to limit caffeine.”
“Ah, come on,” Kailey says. “Just half a can.”
“Nope.”
“Ginger Ale? It’s caffeine free!”
“Deal,” I say.
“Wow, you do know how to be reasonable.”
I walk over to her, extending my hands. “Come on, you can keep me company while I cook.”
“You’re cooking?” she asks as she slips her hands into mine, letting me help her up, even though she’s more than capable of doing it on her own. Maybe she just relishes being upright and doesn’t want to miss an opportunity to watch me burn the place down. I’d like to think maybe it’s more than that.
“Thought I would give it a shot,” I say.
“I never expected you to be so normal. I thought you just did country star things,” she says, her skin turning rosy.
Just when I think she can’t get any cuter, she says something like that. I can’t help but laugh. “What are country star things?”
“You know, riding horses, wearing big cowboy hats and belt buckles.”
That just makes me laugh even more, and I tease, “I don’t look good in hats.”
She laughs, but then her voice grows quiet. “Ryder.”
My body reacts to her saying my name, remembering her moaning my name not so long ago. I look down at her, her eyes everywhere but on mine. “All this laying around gives me a lot of time to think. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”
“There’s lots of time,” I say, lightly touching her belly.
“It would make me feel better if we just cleared the air, put our cards on the table,” she says, looking up at me. “That’s why you planning a nursery freaked me out. We haven’t talked at all about visitation or how this is going to work when I’m not living here. It’s stressing me out.”
“I don’t think any of that is up to me,” I say.
“You’ve obviously been thinking about what happens after the baby’s born.”