Wild Card (57 page)

Noah's lips kicked up at the corners.

"Rules," he murmured, and Sabella gave a rude little amused sniff.

"There's always rules." Grant nodded.

Noah frowned as everyone watched him expectantly.

"Noah," Sabella's voice was warning, knowing.

Noah cleared his throat. "I'm always right."

Grant frowned in confusion. Sabella shook. He had a feeling it was silent laughter.

"Noah is always right," he stated. "That's the rule."

"Right about what?" Grant's frown deepened.

"Whatever I want to be right about, dammit," he growled. "Hell. Noah Blake doesn't have a

damned father. He's an orphan."' Grant winced, paled before he could continue. "But if Nathan

Malone's father needs a surrogate son." He shrugged. "I married his wife. I drive his truck.

Hell, I guess I can claim his dad."

At that moment, feathery soft, he felt it. His gaze jerked down to where Sabella held his hand

to her stomach, then to her eyes.

He felt it.

She smiled. Her eyes filled with love, with the future. With forever.

Their baby had moved. Right there, against his hand, as though in agreement. So soft he hadn't

been certain, not really sure until he looked in her eyes.

"Forever," he whispered.

And her eyes shimmered with tears. "Forever."

When he turned back to his father, he thought, maybe, just maybe, there were a few less flecks

of green in his eyes. A bit more of the sapphire Irish eyes that were his legacy. He thought,

maybe, he could get to know the father he had never known.

He held his hand out to his father, watched the other man blink back his tears, and they shook

on the rule, and the future.

Finally, a future. Six years late. A lot of stubborn pride and too damned much time lost. Noah

Blake wasn't a stupid man. He wasn't losing more time. He wasn't losing more love. Noah

Blake would snatch back everything Nathan Malone had lost and give it everything he had.

The future.