For the Sake of Their Son. Catherine Mann

that bitter jab come from?

      He cocked an eyebrow. “This is about Eli. Not about the two of us.”

      “There is no ‘two of us’ anymore.” She touched her son’s head lightly, aching to take him back in her arms. “You ended that when you ran away scared after we had a reckless night of sex.”

      “I do not run away.”

      “Excuse me if your almighty ego is bruised.” She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling as though they were in fifth grade again, arguing over whether the basketball was in or out of bounds.

      Elliot sighed, looking around at the empty clearing. The limo’s engine roared to life, then faded as it drove away without him. He turned back to Lucy Ann. “This isn’t accomplishing anything. We need to talk reasonably about our child’s future.”

      “I agree.” Of course they had to talk, but right now her heart was in her throat. She could barely think straight. She scooped her baby from his arms. “We’ll talk tomorrow when we’re both less rattled.”

      “How do I know you won’t just disappear with my son?” He let go of Eli with obvious reluctance.

      His son.

      Already his voice echoed with possessiveness.

      She clasped her son closer, breathing in the powder-fresh familiarity of him, the soft skin of his cheek pressed against her neck reassuringly. She could and she would manage her feelings for Elliot. Nothing and no one could be allowed to interfere with her child’s future.

      “I’ve been here all this time, Elliot. You just never chose to look.” A bitter pill to swallow. She gestured up the empty dirt road. “Even now, you didn’t choose. Your friends dumped you here on my doorstep.”

      Elliot walked a slow circle around her, his hand snagging the rope holding the swing until he stopped beside her. He had a way of moving with such fluidity, every step controlled, a strange contradiction in a man who always lived on the edge. Always flirting with chaos.

      Her skin tingled to life with the memory of his touch, the wind teasing her with a hint of aftershave and musk.

      She cleared her throat. “Elliot, I really think you should—”

      “Lucy Ann,” he interrupted, “in case it’s escaped your notice, my friends left me here. Alone. No car.” He leaned in closer, his hand still holding the rope for balance, so close she could almost feel the rasp of his five o’clock shadow. “So regardless of whether or not we talk, for now, you’re stuck with me.”

      Two

      Elliot held himself completely still, a feat of supreme control given the frustration racing through his veins. That Lucy Ann had hidden her pregnancy—his son—from him all this time threatened to send him to his knees. Somehow during this past year he’d never let go of the notion that everything would simply return to the way things had been before with them. Their friendship had carried him through the worst times of his life.

      Now he knew there was no going back. Things between them had changed irrevocably.

      They had a child together, a boy just inches away. Elliot clenched his hand around the rope. He needed to bide his time and proceed with caution. His lifelong friend had a million great qualities—but she was also stubborn as hell. A wrong step during this surprise meeting could have her digging in her heels.

      He had to control his frustration, tamp down the anger over all that she’d hidden from him. Staying levelheaded saved his life on more than one occasion on the racetrack. But never had the stakes been more important than now. No matter how robbed he felt, he couldn’t let that show.

      Life had taught him well how to hide his darker emotions.

      So he waited, watching her face for some sign. The breeze lifted a strand of her hair, whipping it over his cheek. His pulse thumped harder.

      “Well, Lucy Ann? What now?”

      Her pupils widened in her golden-brown eyes, betraying her answering awareness a second before she bolted up from the swing. Elliot lurched forward as the swing freed. He released the rope and found his footing.

      Lucy Ann glanced over her shoulder as she made her way to the graveled path. “Let’s go inside.”

      “Where’s your aunt?” He followed her, rocks crunching under his feet.

      “At work.” Lucy Ann walked up the steps leading to the prefab log cabin’s long front porch. Time had worn the redwood look down to a rusty hue. “She still waits tables at the Pizza Shack.”

      “You used to send her money.” He’d stumbled across the bank transaction by accident. Or maybe his accountant had made a point of letting him discover the transfers since Lucy Ann left so little for herself.

      “Well, come to find out, Aunt Carla never used it,” Lucy Ann said wryly, pushing the door open into the living room. The decor hadn’t changed, the same brown plaid sofa with the same saggy middle, the same dusty Hummel figurines packed in a corner cabinet. He’d forgotten how Carla scoured yard sales religiously for the things, unable to afford them new.

      They’d hidden here more than once as kids, then as teenagers, plotting a way to escape their home lives. He eyed the son he’d barely met but who already filled his every plan going forward. “Your aunt’s prideful, just like you.”

      “I accepted a job from you.” She settled Eli into a portable crib by the couch.

      “You worked your butt off and got your degree in computer technology.” He admired the way she never took the easy way out. How she’d found a career for herself.

      So why had she avoided talking to him? Surely not from any fear of confrontation. Her hair swung forward as she leaned into the baby crib, her dress clinging to her hips. His gaze hitched on the new curves.

      Lucy Ann spun away from the crib and faced him again. “Are we going to keep making small talk or are you going to call a cab? I could drive you back into town.”

      “I’m not going anywhere.”

      Her eyebrows pinched together. “I thought we agreed to talk tomorrow.”

      “You decided. I never agreed.” He dropped to sit on the sofa arm. If he sat in the middle, no telling how deep that sag would sink.

      “You led me to believe...” She looked around as if searching for answers, but the Hummels stayed silent. “Damn it. You just wanted to get in the house.”

      Guilty as charged. “This really is the best place to discuss the future. Anywhere else and I’ll have to be on the lookout for fans. We’re in NASCAR country, you know. Not Formula One, but kissing cousins.” He held up his hands. “Besides, my jackass buddies stranded me without my wallet.”

      She gasped. “You’re joking.”

      “I wish.” They must have taken it from his pocket while he was knocked out. He tamped down another surge of anger over being manipulated. If he’d just had some warning...

      “Why did they do this to you—to both of us?” She sat on the other arm of the sofa, the worn width between them.

      “Probably because they know how stubborn we are.” He watched her face, trying to read the truth in the delicate lines, but he saw only exhaustion and dark circles. “Would you have ever told me about the baby?”

      “You’ve asked me that already and I’ve answered. Of course I would have told you—” she shrugged “―eventually.”

      Finally he asked the question that had been plaguing him most. “How can I be sure?”

      Shaking her head, she shrugged again. “You can’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

      A wry smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “Trust has never been easy for either of us.” But now