To Be a Dad (Harlequin Superromance) (12 page)

Teressa blushed. “What did he say?”

“Nothing you want to hear.”

“I can handle that dickless wonder. I don’t need your help.”

“I noticed. Most of the time you treat me like a kid you have to take care of, not a partner. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’re driving me nuts the way you always have an incredible meal cooked for supper, as if I’ve suddenly forgotten how to feed myself. Not that I don’t appreciate the meals—I do. The point is, you don’t have to cook for me, especially every night. My clothes barely hit the floor before you’ve washed and dried them and put them away. And God forbid I should stand up for you, because we all know you fight your own battles. I don’t even know what I’m doing here, except getting in your way.”

“It’s your house, you idiot.”

“If it wasn’t, I sure as hell wouldn’t be here, because you don’t need anyone. I’m going out again.” He grabbed his jacket from where he’d hung it on the back of a kitchen chair. “I’m a man, Teressa. I don’t need you to look after me, and if you gave me a chance you might find out
I
can look after
you
and our kids for a change.”

Our
kids. Where the hell had that come from? Now Brendon and Sarah were his responsibility, too? He barged outside and jammed his hands in the pockets as he looked up at the sky. Fishtail clouds floated in front of the half moon. It would probably rain tomorrow. Or snow. The warm front had moved out a couple of days ago. He shivered and started walking down his driveway.

The damned thing was he knew Teressa was right. He shouldn’t have mouthed off to Stan, because he’d given the turd a reason to hit back at Teressa. Dusty often suspected he himself hurt the kids’ feelings, and he wasn’t even trying. Stan wasn’t a sicko or anything, just thoughtless. Being inconsiderate was something Dusty recognized right away, because he was beginning to realize how careless he’d been of other people’s needs. Thoughtlessness could hurt more than he’d imagined. He’d put his needs before everyone else’s for years now.

He flipped up his collar and walked faster. He was acting like Brendon was his kid. He wasn’t, but damn if the little fellow hadn’t sunk his hooks into him.
Our
kids. He’d been so busy being careful around Teressa, Sarah and Brendon had snuck into his heart without him noticing, and they weren’t even his kids. Had Stan told the truth? Did he have the right to take Brendon anytime he wanted? Surely, Teressa wouldn’t let that happen. But could she prevent it if Stan had the law on his side?

He reached the end of his driveway and stopped, staring at the empty road in front of him. Why couldn’t Teressa have full rights to the children? Well, except for his child. He planned to be there a hundred percent for Esmeralda.

He needed to know what kind of legal position he’d be in with Sarah and Brendon. If he and Teressa got married he wasn’t going to spend his life accommodating Corey’s or Stan’s schedules, that was for damned sure. He needed to call his lawyer and find out what his rights were.

And he needed to go back to the house. He couldn’t keep stomping out every time Teressa got mad at him. They’d never resolve anything if he kept disappearing on her.

Although, man, what he’d give to go down to the legion, hang out with his friends and not think about anything for a while. He missed his buddies, and he missed just hanging out, and not having to worry about picking up kids on time or dropping them off somewhere, keeping the house warm or making sure Teressa wasn’t overdoing things. Watching out for touchy-feely feelings. Speaking of which, the longer he stayed outside, the more time she had to work herself into a snit. Might as well go back in and face the music.

When he went back into the house, Teressa was kneeling in front of the fireplace, staring into the black hole.

“Do you ever have a fire in this thing?” she asked without looking around.

He squatted down beside her. “Not for a few months. It always felt like too much work for just me. I’ll get the kindling and a few sticks of wood if you want a fire, though.”

“I’d like that. My mother never used her fireplace. Want me to make cocoa?”

“Sounds good.” Not to his stomach, though. Cocoa on top of eating three brownies would be a record, even for him. But he knew an olive branch when he saw one and wouldn’t dream of denying her the chance to make peace.

He grabbed the kindling and an armload of wood from where he’d stacked the winter supply in the basement. Fireplaces burned wood inefficiently, and if they were going to start using it more, he needed to order even more wood again.

“Remind me to call Ron Hachey and ask him to deliver more wood. I keep forgetting to, and sometimes he runs out,” he said when he returned to the living room. He dumped the wood on the hearth and crumbled up paper to start the kindling.

“I can call him,” Teressa said from the kitchen.

“Sure,” he agreed after a minute. He and Ron were old buddies, both fishermen, and usually they had a good long chat when Dusty ran in to him, but they never phoned each other just to talk. It felt strange letting Teressa call him. He hadn’t talked to Ron since he’d dumped a load of wood in the yard earlier in the summer, and he wouldn’t have minded comparing notes on this year’s lobster season. But he also needed to start fitting Teressa into his life if their relationship was going anywhere, and he supposed letting her call for more firewood came under that heading.

He placed a couple of logs on top of the blazing kindling and sprawled on the couch. Having a fire was kind of nice. “I’ve been looking in to buying something else in addition to the wood furnace to heat the house. Thanks.” He accepted a full mug of cocoa from Teressa.

She sat beside him and blew on her hot cocoa. “Why?”

“’Cause if I’m late getting in from fishing or you get caught up at the café, it’d be nice to not have to worry about feeding the fire. I don’t like you having to tend the fire when you get home, anyway. You do too much as it is.”

“That’s sweet of you, but honestly? I love wood heat. It would be nice to have a backup system, though. I hear heat pumps work really well, but they’re expensive to buy. Once you get them, though, they don’t use too much electricity.”

“I’ll check in to it.” A weight settled on his shoulders. Thank God his father had given him the fifty grand.

“If you can’t afford it, it’s not a problem. We can live without the heat pump.” She narrowed her eyes. “But I can’t imagine how you burned through the money your father gave you already.”

“Ye—ah.” He knew buying all that stuff was going to come back and bite him on the ass.

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

Dusty shoved his cocoa on the end table beside him. “I needed some stuff for my boat, okay? And I bought a new table saw so I could make more cupboards and stuff.”

Teressa relaxed into the couch. “That sounds reasonable.”

Damn it. She was guilting him into telling her everything. “And a new stereo for my truck,” he admitted. “And a new chain saw,” he added. Might as well get it all out at once.

She sniffed. “It’s your money. Spend it any way you want.” Disapproval came off her in waves.

He’d been thinking about getting a new stereo for his truck for at least three years. Standing at the cash register, he’d known in his gut it was a bad idea. But a surge of rebellion had hit him, and he’d gone ahead and bought the damned thing, anyway. And the table saw and the chain saw. Because he could.

“I’ll take it all back. Will that make you happy?”

“Honestly? No.” She smiled sadly at him. “I wish you could buy everything your heart desires, Dusty.”

He hung his head, feeling the same way he had when he was twelve years old and had stolen Pops’s pocket change. He was such a selfish idiot. “I messed up. I’m sorry. I’ll take all that sh—stuff back.”

“It’s up to you.”

They sat on the couch side by side and stared straight ahead. The fire had almost gone out, but neither felt motivated to put more wood on it.

“I hate this kind of stuff,” Dusty finally admitted.

“Me, too. I either feel like a killjoy or guilty for doing something stupid.”

“You never do anything wrong.”

One of Teressa’s eyebrows rose. “How about forget you’re pregnant?”

Dusty laughed. “Yeah, right.”

She bumped his shoulder with hers. “Remember Roxy?”

“Roxanne Sears. Sure do. First girl I got to second base with.” He quickly doused his smile when Teressa drilled a you’re-an-idiot look his way.

“She came home to visit the spring I was pregnant with Sarah,” Teressa continued. “When she came over to my place with a bottle of wine, I drank three glasses before I remembered I wasn’t supposed to have alcohol.”

Dusty picked up her hand. “And you probably never forgave yourself.”

“Yeah.”

“Yet Sarah seems fine to me. Except for how clingy she is.”

“You’re her first love, Dusty. Treat her gently.”

“I try. But I’ve got to tell you, little girls are a complete mystery to me. She scares the crap out of me. Corey doesn’t know what he’s missing, not seeing Sarah grow up. How about your dad? Does Sarah spend any time with him?”

She slid her fingers through his. “Never without my mother.”

“You’re going to have to call her, you know.”

The minute Teressa snatched her hand away, he missed her touch. “No, I don’t, but maybe I should call my dad.”

“Brendon needs a haircut, anyway.”

“My father has cut almost everyone’s hair in this village, but not his grandchildren’s. Crazy, isn’t it?”

“Why not?”

“My mother forbade it. She’s the queen of denial. She likes to pretend he’s not really the local barber. She never forgave him for getting laid off of his government job.”

“But there were a lot of layoffs at the time. That was when all those government cutbacks happened, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Still his fault, according to my mother.”

“Your father’s a nice man. It’s too bad Sarah and Brendon don’t know him better.”

“You’re right. I’ll take Brendon to get his hair cut this week.”

“Good girl.” He glanced at her from under his lashes. For once she looked relaxed and almost happy.

“This is nice,” he said.

She leaned into his side. “It is. I love talking to you about things that are bothering me. You always help me see the right thing to do.”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking about something you said the other day. About the names I pick for the baby. What do you think of Emma?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“E
MMA
,”
SHE
REPEATED
, her voice husky. “I love it.”

Dusty smiled. “So do I. I still haven’t come up with a boy’s name, but it’ll come to me.”

“Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“For what?”

“For taking the naming of our baby seriously.”

“I take everything about our baby seriously.”

“Even if you didn’t plan on having children?”

He looked at her, surprised. “I always planned to get married and have kids, just not...”

“Just not with me. It’s okay. We might as well be honest with each other. I never planned to stick around Collina, and yet, here I am.”

“I was going to say just not yet. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to hope to marry someone who loves you.”

“It’s not.” Her heart sank. If she loved Dusty life would be so much easier. What if she let herself fall in love with him? She suspected she might be able to if she could let go of the tightness, the need for control inside her. But what if she disappointed him or if he decided she wasn’t the one for him? Face it, Dusty didn’t need her, and he certainly didn’t need Brendon and Sarah. She’d not only lose her best friend, and she didn’t have that many, but she’d also lose the man she’d fallen in love with. Was she brave enough to open that door? Because it felt as though they were stuck, and one of them had to do something.

“Kiss me.” Teressa’s hands trembled as she reached for him. She shouldn’t be encouraging Dusty when he’d just proven how unreliable he could be by spending all that money. But she wanted him. Badly. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t wanted him. Just as she couldn’t remember not feeling conflicted about that desire.

Sometimes she had a hard time making a case for not getting involved with him. He was such a great guy—until he wasn’t. Like spending all that money on things he didn’t need while she was pinching pennies. Kind of all beside the point because Dusty hadn’t committed himself to them. His own child, yes, but her and Sarah and Brendon? He could go either way, and that wasn’t good enough. She needed someone she could rely on one hundred percent.

Did she have unrealistic expectations? She didn’t really expect Dusty to be perfect, but she did need him to be reliable.

His soft lips brushed over hers, and her nipples hardened instantly. She dipped the tip of her tongue into his mouth, loving his taste and the feel of his large warm hands on her. Without letting herself think, she arched up into his hand and sighed when he cupped her breast.

“I’ve always loved your breasts,” he whispered.

She groaned, heat pooling between her legs.

“You like that?” He pressed his face into her cleavage.

“Yes,” she managed to respond.

“Me, too. Know what else I like?” He pushed her shirt up.

“No.” The word popped out of her, her entire body strung tight with need.

“This.” He flipped open the front clasp of her bra, shoved it out of his way and took her into his mouth.

“Oh, God, Dusty.” She gripped his massive shoulders, felt the rock-hard muscles beneath her fingertips. She arched up into him again as he moved from one breast to the other. A line of heat darted from her breast straight to her belly. She wanted to get naked. Now. With him.

He moved from her breasts to her mouth and kissed her hard, his tongue plunging into her again and again, imitating what the rest of his body wanted. What they both wanted. She wound her arms more tightly around him, wanting to climb right in under his skin. And even that wouldn’t get her close enough to him. She loved how his body felt pressed against her. Loved his smell, the rough scrape of his hands against her skin.

Suddenly, he jerked back and yanked her shirt down, then stood and turned to leave the room.

She reached out for him, her hands snapping greedily in the empty space between them. She wanted him back. Now. “Where are you going?”

And now she was whining. Begging and whining. What a turn-on that must be.

“I heard Brendon. I’m going to check on him.”

Teressa didn’t move a muscle. Dusty had heard Brendon when she hadn’t. She’d always,
always
believed she had an almost supernatural communication with her children. They barely turned over in their sleep, and she woke up.

And yet, she’d been so consumed with desire, she hadn’t heard her own son call out. But Dusty had. Not only that, but he’d also pulled himself away from her to check on her son, and she knew that hadn’t been easy for him.

She pulled her bra and shirt into place and gripped the front edge of the couch with both hands, beating back the compulsion to run down the hallway to see if her little boy was okay. She couldn’t recall ever letting someone else check on her children at night if she was capable of doing it herself.

Relax. Let him handle it
. Think of something else like how Dusty’s comment earlier that she treated him like a child had dented her pride. By picking up after him and cooking, she’d wanted to pay him back in a small way for opening his house to them. Apparently, her effort to balance the scales had insulted him. She’d hoped not to have to explain to him why she was doing all those extra chores for him, because she knew Dusty well enough that he didn’t expect a payback. He wouldn’t understand she was doing it as much for herself as for him. It was her way of keeping things equal between them.

She strained forward, listening to the rumble of Dusty’s voice as he spoke quietly to her son. Was Dusty connecting with her children? Did she dare hope he could actually grow into being their father some day?

She pressed her fingers into her eyes and leaned back.
Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you?
So he heard Brendon wake up. Dusty had probably seduced so many women in so many different places, keeping an ear open for trouble would be second nature to him. Lord knows, she’d heard enough wild rumors about him. She had to be careful not to expect too much, because she wanted so much, and Dusty...tomorrow he’d be as likely to disappear for a couple days to hang out with his buddies as come home to dinner on time.

She’d only moved into his house two weeks ago, and now she was daydreaming that they could be a happy couple? Had there even been a day in those two weeks when they hadn’t fought, or wanted to fight, about something? And, okay, she was willing to admit she was part of the problem. She had to learn not be so controlling. Like she was doing right now, although it was killing her to stay in the living room and let someone else tend to Brendon. Why wasn’t Brendon crying? He’d been so afraid of Dusty when they first moved in.

Dusty breezed into the room and slumped into the armchair, instead of sitting on the couch beside her. She waited a full minute for him to say something about Brendon, but he seemed preoccupied.

“How’s Brendon?”

“Huh?” He looked toward her. “Oh, fine.”

“What did he want?”

“A drink of water.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Check on him if you want, but he’s probably asleep again.”

She nibbled on the cuticle of her index finger. “Did he ask where I was?”

With obvious effort, Dusty gave her his full attention. “No, he didn’t. Is there something wrong?”

Other than she ached for him? Literally. And Brendon apparently didn’t need his mother anymore? Dusty didn’t need her, either. They’d been into some pretty heavy necking, and now he was completely preoccupied with something else, while she was still humming with the need to feel him pressed against her again. She was dying to ask him what he was thinking about, but how juvenile was that? Besides, he was probably lusting after that car stereo he had to return, not her.

“Nothing’s wrong.” She started feasting on the next cuticle. Oh, goody. A new bad habit. Dusty had returned to gazing at the air between them, his mind obviously elsewhere.

“Dusty?” she said after what felt like a half hour, but was probably only five minutes.

He swung his gaze toward her, his forehead wrinkled. “What?”

“I cooked your dinners and picked up after you and washed your clothes and all that stuff because I was trying to pay you back.”

“For what?”

She spread her hands in front of her. “Everything. For taking us in. For fixing the house.” She smiled. “For tucking Brendon into bed.”

“Was that wrong? Me checking on Brendon? ’Cause I was just trying to save you a trip down the hallway. You’re on your feet all day.”

“No, it was great. He’s never let anyone do that before if I’m around. Thank you.”

His expression softened. “You can’t ask me to get involved with the kids then freak out when I do. But I kind of get it, too. I don’t feel good about Stan spending time with Brendon. I don’t think he’d hurt Brendon or anything, but he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be good around kids. What’s the story on that? Does he have visiting rights?”

“He’s allowed to have Brendon one day a month.”

“There’s nothing you can do about that?”

“He’s Brendon’s father. I was lucky to get the judge to agree to that small amount of time. The good news is he’s never asked to spend time with Brendon.” And she hoped he never would. She didn’t completely trust him.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am I messed up. Maybe if I apologized to Stan, he’d forget about Brendon again.”

Teressa felt the inevitable rush of tears. She knew Dusty would rather eat raw fish guts than apologize to Stan. “Thank you. I know how much you dislike Stan. Let’s just leave it and hope he forgets about all of us.”

“If that’s what you want.”

What she wanted was for Dusty to beat the stuffing out of Stan, then take him for a boat ride and come back alone. She also wanted to go over there and sit on Dusty’s lap and feel his strong arms around her. She was tired of making decisions all by herself, of holding it together and fighting her own battles. It felt good to talk with Dusty about what they should do concerning Stan.

“I don’t want you to think you owe me anything, Teressa. It doesn’t feel right to me.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Because you’d do all this for anyone, wouldn’t you?”

“Not exactly. Because it’s you, and you and I—” It was Dusty’s turn to clear his throat. “I’d do anything for you, Teressa.”

Now she really was going to cry. It was one thing to lust after him; she always had and probably always would. But dear God, she wasn’t falling in love with Dusty Carson, was she? That wasn’t part of the plan. Falling in love meant giving up even more control, and she was barely hanging on by her fingertips as it was.

* * *

“W
HOA
. W
HAT
’
S
UP
with you?” Tyler’s eyes bugged out as he skidded to a stop halfway across the café kitchen and stared at Teressa the next day.

She allowed herself a small smile. “What do you mean?”

“You’re...” He cocked his head to one side. “You’re different.”

She had to give the kid points. She certainly felt different. Desirable. Womanly. On fire. Dusty’s kisses did that, stirred things up inside her. Made her want things she usually didn’t allow herself to think about. What was the point of dreaming about being with a man when you knew he was never going to get serious? But maybe Dusty was serious about them as a couple. He’d certainly been acting like he was.

The clock on the wall caught her eye. “You’re late.”

“Yeah. See I missed the morning rush.” He nodded toward the empty dining room.

“Very funny. I’m going to start docking your pay. You’re always late, and you leave early.”

“Aw, come on, Teressa. I leave because there’s no one here after three. You know I’d stay if you needed me to.”

Tyler wasn’t a bad kid, so much as dumb. She turned her attention to chopping the pumpkin into wedges to make the daily soup, spicy pumpkin. “You should get a trade. You’ll never be able to afford to move away from home with the wages you make here.”

Tyler wrapped an apron around his lanky teenage body. “You could give me a raise.”

She whacked the pumpkin into quarters. “No, I couldn’t. Clean the washroom, okay?”

“Where’s Adam?”

“Working on his wedding plans.” Adam had told her yesterday afternoon he wouldn’t be in until later because he had to finalize the marriage ceremony with the officiant. She wouldn’t be surprised if he was still in bed with Sylvie instead. Sylvie liked to work late at night, and none of them had seen much of her the past few weeks. Adam was probably trying to get some quality time with her.

She could have used more quality time with Dusty
.
But Sarah and Brendon
were always with them, demanding attention. She didn’t mind, of course, but sometimes the children’s dependence scared her. She used to think she could rely on her mother if anything happened to her. But Linda hadn’t called or stopped by once since Teressa had moved out. She supposed her father would help, but she didn’t know if he had the stamina it took to raise children. Linda had done the child-rearing in their family.

That pretty much left her with Dusty as backup. It disturbed her that she still had her doubts about whether he’d hang in there. She didn’t doubt he loved Sarah and Brendon, or was well on his way to loving them.

She sliced the pumpkin into manageable pieces and pushed the innards into the compost bucket. She was being unfair to Dusty, letting her own fears color her judgment. She had to start trusting him to do the right thing and give him the benefit of the doubt. Otherwise their relationship would become static in a can-he, maybe-not cycle. If only their everyday relationship could be as perfect as the physical part.

Tyler pushed the swinging door between the kitchen and dining room open with his shoulder, kicking the mop bucket in front of him. “That guy’s out there. Says he wants to talk to you.”

She looked up from peeling the pumpkin. “What guy?” Tyler knew everyone in the village.

“Stan Ferris.”

A wave of nausea erupted in her stomach. She carefully put the sharp knife she’d been using on the stainless steel workbench. “What does he want?”