TIMBER: The Bad Boy's Baby (10 page)

I
help
her off the table and she turns toward the bathroom. Looking at her walk away, I take in her silhouette. Her curvy hips and beautiful breasts are better than any woman’s I’ve ever seen, but it’s the slight bump on her stomach that seems to get me hard all over again.

Fuck, what is happening to me? It’s like all of a sudden I’m not freaked out by the fact Harper is having my babies. I want her to have them. I want her to be filled with my flesh and blood. I want her to birth my son, my daughter. I mean, that fuck we just had was off the charts—but I can’t believe I’m not running for the goddamned hills.

“Jaxon,” she calls out. “Can you make more of that tea? It was delicious.”

“Sure thing,” I tell her. I pull on my jeans and grab a flannel off the back of a kitchen chair. Bending down, I pick up the things I tossed aside when I took her on the table. I can’t help but smile over the way her pussy was splayed out there for me, just waiting to be fucked. She’s so nice and tight, and thinking about it forces me to adjust myself in my pants.

Blowing the air from my cheeks, I try to cool it. Damn, Harper has me all fired up. Lighting the burner on the stove, I set the kettle back on. I like to fuck Harper, and the idea of her pregnant with my children makes me fucking horny as hell, but there is no way I can raise a fucking family.

Pouring myself a cold beer, I look around the tiny cabin I bought out here in the woods. It’s on fifty acres, so there’s plenty of space—but, shit, the loft barely holds my queen-sized mattress. There’s no room in here for kids.

Let alone three of them. I take a sip, trying to figure out what that would even look like. I make enough off my share of the hauling company, but that set-up isn’t going to provide for me forever ... and especially not for a herd of babies.

A knock on the door breaks my train of thought, which is probably a good thing. I pull open the door, having totally forgotten Dean was coming over.

The timing wasn’t perfect and, as Harper comes out of the bathroom—dressed, thank God—all I can think is that Dean is gonna take one look at the situation and think I haven’t changed at all.

And, fuck, have I? First chance I had to be with Harper, I took it. And look where that got me. A hell of a lot more complicated than the Sheriff’s daughter.

“Dean. Hey, man,” I say, opening the door for him. I look between him and Harper as he steps inside. “This is Harper, she’s my ... uh, she’s Harper. And Harper, this is Dean, my business partner.”

“And his oldest motherfucking friend,” Dean says, slapping my back. “You gonna stand there or you gonna get me a beer?” he says to Harper.

Her eyes are innocent and full of surprise as she takes in Dean, who actually looks pretty damn similar to me. Beard. Tattoos. Flannel shirt. Boots. But she doesn’t know he’s a way nicer guy than me.

“Hey, sweetie, just teasing,” he says to Harper, whose eyes have found their way to the floor. “I’d never ask you to do that. This asshole can get me a beer.”

She raises her head as the kettle whistles. “It’s no problem, Dean. I’m getting tea anyways.” She scurries away, like a deer scampering in the woods, and I raise an eye at Dean.

“You gotta be nice to her,” I say.

“You telling me how to treat a woman?” He sneers, good-naturedly. “Shit, Jax, I was just messing around.”

“I know.” I shrug, not even knowing where to begin with this. “It’s just ... Harper is important.”

I wanted to talk to him about Harper, about how to find her, and ask what he thought I should do next. But fuck, now he’s here and she’s here, and she’s having triplets. I don’t know where to begin.

“That’s cool, just tell me what I need to know. What got so complicated you needed a motherfucking heart-to-heart?” he asks, laughing. He must see my blank expression, because he adds. “Shit, something happen for reals?” He looks over his shoulder at Harper, who’s walking toward us with a frothy beer and a mug of tea.

“Here you go,” she says, offering the beer to him. The beer is about three-fourths foam and I smile. She notices and shakes her head. “What?” she asks, pouting playfully. “I’ve never poured a beer. I didn’t know how to do it.”

“The girl Jax has in his cabin has never poured a beer?” Dean clinks his glass with mine. “Now this I gotta hear.”

“Not much to tell,” I say. “Harper doesn’t drink. Or swear. Or ... what else don’t you do, Harp?”

“Truth is, Jaxon and I don’t know one another very well, Dean,” she says shrugging. “Maybe you could tell me more about your old friend?”

“What do you wanna know?” Dean walks over to the kitchen table, the same one where I just fucked Harper, and he takes a seat. Harper and I follow, and I see her cheeks redden as she grabs a paper towel and dabs at a spot on the table, still wet with her.

“Oh, just, like, who is Jaxon? Like, what sort of guy is he?”

Dean chuckles, setting down his glass. “Let’s see. Jaxon never asks permission. He never gets a second opinion. And he certainly never asks for advice. Which is why it was so strange that my old friend called me, wanting to talk.”

My jaw tenses and I instinctively look at Harper, trying to see how she absorbs Dean’s assessment of me.

“Sounds about right, considering what I know about him,” she says generously.

“And how
do
you know Jaxon, exactly?” Dean asks her.

“Well, funny thing—my car got stuck out here about three months ago, and Jaxon let me stay for the night. And then I visited about month ago, and then came back out today.”

“Can’t stay away huh?” Dean raises his eyebrows, clucking his tongue. “Aww, just teasing. That’s good, Jax could probably use the company. You been out here for what, six months now?”

“About that,” I say.

“So you have something on your mind?” Dean asks, putting me on the spot.

I look at Harper. Her hands are in her lap; she looks so small and out of place here with Dean and I.

“Go ahead, Jaxon,” she says. “I’m sure that’s why you wanted him to come out here.”

I cough uncomfortably. Dean’s a hard-ass in some ways, but he’s a good, decent guy. He dates women and takes them out for dinner and a movie. He goes to his grandma’s house for Sunday dinner. He is BBQs and Bud Light. He is apple pie.

I’m not a good guy like him. I’m the fucking a la mode.

And maybe it makes me a pussy, and I swear, it’s not me I’m thinking about right now. I just don’t want him to judge Harper for being with an ass like me.

“She’s pregnant, Dean.”

“Oh, shit,” he says.

“With my triplets.”

Dean’s sharp intake of breath has me in tears. Less than an hour ago I was on my back on this table, in complete denial. In complete escape mode. I pretended that Jaxon being inside me was enough. Enough for what?

Dean’s panicked eyes tell me that this is actually real. Really happening. Triplets. Three human babies. Three babies that will require everything I have, and require things I don’t even know yet. Things Jaxon and I—a complete bad boy and a completely sheltered girl—have no business learning, not together. Not now.

Not like this.

“Shit, guys, I’m sorry,” Dean says, pulling his hand through his hair. “A one night stand turned into triplets? Fuck, that is like made-for-TV shit.”

“That’s not exactly helpful.” Jaxon isn’t laughing or joking anymore. His head has dropped, his shoulders heavy.

“I know.” Dean looks at me warily. “Sweetie, you doing okay? Where do you live?”

“I live in Coeur d’Alene. With my parents.”

Dean’s eyes fill with panic. “You are legal, right?”

“I am.” I try to speak calmly, because if I give in to the overwhelming thoughts running through my brain I’ll fall apart. I need Dean and Jaxon to believe I’m a capable woman. Maybe if I convince them, I’ll be able to convince myself next. “I’m twenty-one. And I know this is crazy ... but it will be okay. It’s children, not zombies.”

Dean lets out a controlled breath. “Jax, man, this is fucking nuts. What’s the plan here? What do your parents think, Harper?”

“Well, it’s still early. I’m only twelve weeks along. And, um … I haven’t exactly told them. Or anyone. I just found out myself.”

Jaxon doesn’t offer me his hand to hold, or a look of sympathy. I guess I shouldn’t need it. Need him. But I do need him. I want him.

He surprises me when he looks up, nodding stoically. “She’s gonna stay here for a while, Dean.”

“Here?” Dean looks around the cabin. “You plan on keeping a pregnant woman, whose parents don’t know what the hell is going on, in a cabin in the sticks, with no cell service. How in fuck’s sake is that the responsible thing to do?”

I hear Dean, but I only have eyes for Jaxon. He meant what he said when he offered to let me stay. And a gust of relief blows over me. I needed his assurance that he wouldn’t leave me out to dry, and he gave it.

“My next appointment isn’t for a month. I don’t need to see the doctor unless there is some sort of complication. So I can stay here.” Going home felt impossible ... and now I don’t need to.

“And what are your parents going to think?” Dean asks.

“What the hell does it matter? Harper is a grown woman. She can sleep in my fucking bed if she wants to, Dean.”

“Dude, I don’t care where she sleeps. But you called me, wanting my advice, and I’m giving it. You can’t keep her here without telling her family. They’ll think she was fucking kidnapped or some shit.”

“I’m not calling them,” I say, meaning it. There’s no way I can pick up the phone and hear my father’s berating tone when I tell him I’m with child. There’s no way I can listen to him tell me why I’m immoral and a disgrace to the church. I can’t and I won’t.

“Harp,” Jaxon says, grabbing my hand in an act of solidarity. I swallow; his hand on mine feels so warm. So right. “I think Dean’s right in some ways. I don’t want your father showing up here.”

“Fine. I’ll write him a letter. Let him know what’s going on and that I’m safe.”

“Okay,” Jax says, nodding. “You do that. Dean can bring it back to town, right?” Jaxon looks over at his friend.

“That’s fine.” Dean’s eyebrows are knit together, and his jaw is clenched; he’s clearly not thinking any of this is fine. “Do you have clothes, things you need?” he asks me across the table.

“I don’t have anything.” I bite my lip, knowing that this is all so irresponsible, but also upset at my parents for setting me up this way. They kept me in such a tightly sealed box for my entire life, that I don’t know how to be anything but helpless. I want to prove to Dean and Jaxon that I am self-sufficient ... even if I know I’m not. “But I can make clothing, all I need is some old fabric and a needle and thread. And I can make do on very little. And the doctor gave me prenatal vitamins before I left.”

“You don’t need to sew your own fucking clothes,” Jaxon says, seemingly amused. A small smile is on his lips, and I can see how all he needs is a bit of a plan to feel like things are going to be okay. “I can go into town and order you some stuff. It will be here in a day.”

“This is so fucking crazy.” Dean finishes his beer, and stands for another. “Harper, while you write to your parents, Jax and I are going for a walk, okay?”

“Of course,” I say. “And thank you ... for not judging us.”

Dean laughs. “Oh, I’m judging you guys. I think you’re both nuts.”

Jaxon rolls his eyes and digs in a drawer for a pad of paper and a pen. Setting them before me, he grabs his beer and kisses my forehead.

“Be assertive,” he tells me. “Don’t beat around the bush. Tell them exactly what’s up, what you think.”

I watch as Jaxon and Dean leave the cabin, then I stare down at the blank page.

Tell them what I think?
That is impossible in so many ways. Mostly because I don’t really know what I think. Do I believe the teachings of my father’s church? That what I’m doing with Jaxon is a sin? Am I unworthy because I let him inside me? Because I’ve also been taught to believe children are a gift, a blessing.

So isn’t this actually a blessing times three? How can me being a mother be wrong, when I’ve been taught my entire life that it’s the greatest calling by God for women? How can it be both ... how can I be a sinner and a saint?

I pick up the pen and try to put those thoughts into words that don’t cast judgment on my parents ... but also bring those questions to light.

After I have written all of that I add a final paragraph.

I’m staying in the cabin with Jaxon for the time being. This choice is mine, as I’m a grown woman, a woman you have raised. In my heart, this is the right choice. You don’t have to agree with my decision, and I understand you may condemn me, but after Luke left me, I realized I have a lot of things to decide on my own. I need to choose what I believe. What kind of person I want to be.

I don’t tell them I’m pregnant—because yes, that’s a huge part of this, but another part of me knows I need time away, otherwise I’m scared I’ll never learn to stand on my own. And I need to learn how I’m going to raise three children.

Because even though Jaxon says he will help ... I know this is a duty he doesn’t want. A duty he isn’t prepared for.

Dean and I are outside, sitting on stumps, drinking our beer. I’m glad he’s here, knows the truth—because, shit, that would be a fucking hard conversation to have over the phone.

“You think having her stay here is a bad idea?” I ask Dean.

“Fuck, I don’t know. You’ve just never settled down. Never had a serious relationship. And now her living here, plus kids. I don’t know, man—it’s a lot.”

“She’s had a rough go of things. Her family’s really conservative and she’s jumpy as a doe. She needs some time to breathe. Staying here can help with that.”

“That doesn’t mean you marry her.”

I choke on my motherfucking beer. “Marry her? Who said anything about getting married?”

“Dude, you know that’s what she’s angling for. I mean, why else would she wanna shack up at this piece of shit cabin with you? She wants you to commit, be more than a baby-daddy. She wants you to fucking propose.”

“Well, that shit’s not happening. Marriage is bullshit. You know how I feel about that. And I’ll let Harper stay here until she has the kids, and then I can help pay for day care or something, get her set up in town. Where there will be people who can help her. That’s a shit-ton of diapers.”