Songbird (20 page)

Her eyes widen as she looks down at her bowl. “What do you mean? I am eating.”

“Five spoonfuls of soup is not eating, and you haven’t touched your sandwich.”

“You’re
counting
?”

I shrug.

“You yelled at your mom for putting mayo on my sandwich. Now you’re counting my spoonfuls of soup? What is wrong with you?”

“I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“Well, stop it.”

I sigh heavily and grab another cookie. Callie doesn’t speak to me or even look my way throughout the rest of the meal.

But I still count. Sixteen spoonfuls in all.

And she never touches my sandwich.

After lunch, Owen and Dad pull Callie into the living room while I help Mom clean up the kitchen.

Mom hands me a plate. “I’m sorry about the mayo.”

“I’m sorry I was such an ass about it.”

She smiles. “It’s okay. I haven’t seen you that protective of anyone in a long time.”

“She’s pissed, though.”

Might as well call the florist. Lord only knows how many roses it’ll take this time.

“Yes, but you have to remember that she’s been on her own for a long time. All this protectiveness is going to take some getting used to.”

“Too much?”

Mom nods.

“But she’s so stubborn. She didn’t even touch that sandwich.”

“You’re both strong-willed. Your poor child has absolutely no chance whatsoever.”

I grin. “You’re excited about this baby, aren’t you?”

“Ecstatic.”

After she starts the dishwasher, we both sit down at the kitchen table.

“Thank you for being so cool about this. I met Callie’s mom this morning. She was less than thrilled.”

“Callie told me about that while we were making lunch. Her mother sounds like a horrible woman.” I nod, and Mom tilts her head. “But something else is bothering you. What’s wrong?”

I shrug. “I’m just nervous, Mom. I mean, I’m going to be a father. Do you know how unbelievable that sounds to my own ears?”

“Oh, I think I have some idea,” she replies, laughing. “Can I just say that if you just had to get a girl pregnant, I’m so happy it’s Callie. She’s really wonderful, Devin. I think she’s good for you.”

Callie’s laugh echoes from the living room. It makes me smile.

“Can I tell you a secret, Mom?”

“I love secrets.”

“What I feel for her scares the shit out of me.”

“Of course it does. You’re in love with her.”

I bow my head. “It’s too soon to feel that way . . . isn’t it?”

“I think the heart wants what the heart wants and it totally ignores logic. What does your heart want, Devin?”

Easy.

Her. My heart wants her.

“You know, Mom, I could really mess this up.”

“You could. And you
will
if you don’t stop watching her like a hawk when she eats.”

“Sixteen spoonfuls, Mom! That’s all she ate.”

Mom laughs. “You counted?”

“Yes, I counted. Do you see what I mean? The woman drives me crazy.”

“Short trip,” Owen mutters from the doorway.

I flip him the bird.

“Be nice,” Mom says with a frown.

Just then, Dad and Callie return to the kitchen.

“Mama Callie’s ready for a nap,” Owen says. Once again, he lifts her off the floor with a bone-crushing hug.

“Owen, I swear I’m gonna—”

Callie shoots me a glare, silently daring me to finish my threat. My mouth snaps shut.

Yep. It’s going to take a lot of roses.

T
he rest of the afternoon is quiet, but it’s not a peaceful calm. The silence is filled with loads of tension because my baby daddy is apparently a controlling, overbearing Neanderthal and I want nothing to do with him.

Devin must sense this, because he’s finally stopped apologizing for being a barbarian and is now pouting on the couch, pretending to watch the news. I’m at the kitchen table, pretending to work. Every few minutes, I’ll catch him looking at me, and we’ll both divert our eyes and pretend we don’t notice.

I hope our kid is more mature than we are.

He’s just being protective
, my mommy subconscious whispers to me. She’s been doing that a lot lately, but this time I ignore her because she’s seriously getting on my nerves. I don’t
need
his protection, and I certainly don’t need him watching my portion sizes. Who does he think he is?

Your baby’s daddy
, she whispers again. I sigh loudly and tap my fingers louder against the keyboard, hoping to drown her out.

Bitch is really getting on my nerves.

I sit up a little straighter when he walks into the kitchen and opens up the fridge like he owns the place. Ignoring him, I continue researching the mayoral candidate I’m interviewing this week. The official website for Nashville real estate developer Dominic Barkley is full of pictures and biographical information. With his designer suit and phony smile, he looks like an arrogant ass.

Suddenly, another arrogant ass is waving a banana freezer pop in front of my face. The sly, overprotective jerk even unwrapped it for me.

“Truce?”

I glare at him. This is coercion. Pure manipulation.

I hold strong until he calls me by the name that always melts my heart and turns me into a stupid, stupid girl.

“I’m sorry, Songbird.”

Damn him.

I snatch the freezer pop out of his hand and take great satisfaction in watching his eyes glaze over as he watches me eat it. Smiling innocently, I turn my attention back to my computer screen. After a few minutes, Devin lets out a groan and quickly heads back to the couch.

“Problem?”

“I just . . . can’t watch you eat that anymore.”

Good.
He deserves to suffer after the way he treated me today.

Still, I can’t help but wonder just how sexually frustrated he might be. Chances are he’s probably hooked up with someone since the weekend we met.

I, on the other hand, have not.

The baby book says my sex drive could increase as the pregnancy progresses. I really hope not. It’s going to be hard to keep my hands to myself if Devin insists on spending every waking—and sleeping—moment with me.

Twenty minutes later, I have mercy on the poor guy and take my laptop to the living room. He’s in the chair watching CNN, so I spread out on the couch and keep compiling my interview questions.

“Did you ever want to do broadcast news?” he asks.

“Nope. To be on television, you have to be eye candy and good at public speaking. I’m neither.”

He turns toward me. “You don’t think you’re pretty enough to be on camera?”

“I know I’m not.”

“You’re wrong.”

With a deep sigh, I save my work and close my laptop. I watch him stare at the television until I can’t take it anymore. His eyes find mine as I walk over to the couch and climb into his lap. Devin’s hands grip my hips as I run my fingers through his hair.

“I hope our kid looks like you.”

“I hope the baby has your eyes.”

“Compromise?” I murmur, pressing myself closer to him. “Your brown eyes and my blonde hair.”

“Deal. See, we can get along.”

“So it would seem.”

Devin slides his hands along my back, pulling me tighter against him. With a shuddering groan, he buries his face against my neck and whispers my name.

“We’re supposed to be apologizing,” I whisper.

His blazing brown eyes find mine.

“I’m sorry for being an overprotective jerk.”

“I’m sorry for being an oversensitive bitch.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Apol—”

Devin crashes his lips to mine, and in that moment, I’m lost. In his hands. His mouth. His moans. In the way he whispers my name when we come up for air. And in the way he wraps his hands in my hair and pulls my face back to his before we can even catch our breath.

He breaks our kiss and presses his forehead against mine. His gaze is reverent, and I nearly whimper when I see the emotion radiating in his shining, brown eyes. Slowly, I stroke his face, and he presses his cheek against the palm of my hand.

“Callie . . .” His voice is rough and low as it trails off, but he doesn’t have to finish the thought. I can hear it. I can
feel
it. The unspoken, desperate plea that burns my skin and ignites my blood.

“Please.”

Devin doesn’t ask for an explanation. He doesn’t need one.

With a low groan that radiates from his chest and deep into my heart, Devin lifts us up, and I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me to the bedroom.

I don’t remember him undressing me. I can’t remember undressing him. Yet here we are—naked and breathless on my bed, waiting for the other to finish what we’d both started.

Why isn’t he doing anything?

Sliding my hands along his shoulders, I can feel the tension in his arms as he hovers above me. I arch against him, causing him to moan, but he still doesn’t move.

“Devin, what’s wrong?”