Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (56 page)

Twenty minutes later they had veggies from a Mom and Pop store and they were on their way back to the cottage. They chatted over food prep, laughed through an impromptu cooking lesson and sang along to the radio.

It was after nine by the time they’d set the table outside and enjoyed their spread of butter and garlic pan-fried shrimp, citrus-infused snapper tacos and a bottle of Moscato. He plowed through the platter of food and she picked at a single taco.

Deacon frowned. “Is your stomach still bothering you?”

She shrugged. “You know me. I’m always picking and tasting when I cook. I’m half filled up before it’s even on the table.”

He sipped from his wine. “No more tequila for you.”

She grinned and held up her glass. “Agreed.”

He clinked his glass against hers and hunched over the table. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yeah. It feels weird to relax, but yes.” She tangled her fingers with his and leaned forward. The kiss was sweet and soft and held the crisp pear tones of their wine. She stood and drew him up with her. “Dance with me?”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. You, me and the stars.”

He slid his phone out of his pocket and flicked through a few songs until the sweet tones of a piano came from his speakers. John Legend’s silky voice flowed out into the night as Deacon curled her into his body. His knee between hers, one arm around her waist and the other up and around her shoulders until she was completely encased in his warmth.

One song slid into another, one kiss into soft touches, soft touches into dreamy sighs. They drifted inside, their lovemaking gentle and easy. Full of love and the indulgence of a night without a schedule or deadline. And they both slept dreamlessly in a tangle of limbs and sheets.

* * *

M
orning came with a grumbling belly
. Harper rolled off the permanent heater that she shared a bed with and to her feet. She snagged one of Deacon’s shirts and padded into the kitchen.

She found what was left of the fruit and some yeasty bread that was left in a basket by the caretaker. The bread tasted amazing and she buttered three pieces before she felt full enough to stop. She popped a piece of pineapple in her mouth and immediately spit it out.

What the hell?

She tried a strawberry and that tasted fine. She picked up a piece of the pineapple and sniffed—absolutely fresh. She nibbled off a corner of the wedge she’d sliced and nearly gagged. It was completely sour even though it smelled sweet. Possibly a little too sweet.

She made a pit stop in the bathroom and brushed her teeth, glanced at the clock and winced. It was nearly eleven in the morning, but they’d seen the sunrise before they’d gone to sleep. She climbed onto the bed and maneuvered her way under his arm. He rolled into her, cuddling into her back without waking. The man never had trouble sleeping. Harper smoothed her hand lightly over his wide forearms, unable to shut her brain off.

As tired as she was, sleep just wouldn’t come. She should Google her symptoms, but she didn’t want to move and wake Deacon. Two trips out of bed would be pushing her luck. She was rarely sick with even a head cold. So why was food suddenly her…

She stopped stroking, her hand clamping on his wrist.

No.

There was no way.

She ducked under his arm, her heartbeat filling her ears and trying to blast its way out of her chest. She glanced over her shoulder, but Deacon flopped onto his stomach and put his head under a pillow.

She padded over to her purse and took out her phone, flicking through her screens until she came to her My Days app. She’d always been as regular as the sun, but with stress and living on the road she’d gotten in the habit of keeping track of her period.

Who wanted to be stuck in Albuquerque without a tampon?

It had to be just a few days. She was just being…six weeks late.

She thumbed back through the month.

No.

She had to have forgotten to put it down. She backed up into the fat little club chair at the end of their bed. Her feet collapsed out from under her and she slithered to the floor.

Pregnant?

She cradled her hand over her flat belly, then curled her knees up into her chest. She couldn’t. They hadn’t even been together long enough to let the ink on their freaking marriage license dry.

She was twenty-three years old, for fuck’s sake.

There was no baby in the plan.

She was on the pill, goddammit.

Ninety-nine percent effective unless it’s against the super sperm of one Deacon McCoy. What the hell was he shooting, for God’s sake? How did he find the way into her freaking cache of eggs?

The eggs that were supposed to stay right there for at least a few…hell, maybe more than a few years.

She brought her hand over her mouth. They hadn’t even discussed children. Did he even want them?

Shouldn’t that have been a conversation beforehand, Harper Lee?

Fuck off.

She pressed her forehead into her knees, wrapping her arms around her shins.

Did
she
even want them?

She rolled onto her knees and peeked over the footboard of the bed. Deacon was sprawled out, the sheet pooling around his hips, leaving a wide expanse of deeply tanned back. His armor-like tattoo making him look more warrior than killer bass master of a band.

Her eyes traveled to his wide, palmed hand with the long elegant fingers. Strong, sure hands that would protect and cherish a baby as surely as he did her. Instantly, she knew that.

The gentle giant of a man would make the most amazing father.

He rolled onto his side, his arm flung out looking for her. She quickly jumped to her feet and tucked a pillow beside him. He wound his way around the pillow, and a light snore told her he was still down for the count.

You don’t know for sure, Harper Lee. Calm yourself.

She grabbed her purse and found her notebook. She scribbled off a note to tell him she went for a walk and left it in front of the clock beside the bed.

No, she didn’t know if she was pregnant. And the only way to tell was to get a freaking test. They were in the most remote area of Galveston, but there had to be a drugstore around there somewhere.

It was better to know before she worried Deacon. Before she worried herself for that matter. They’d both been overloaded with stress for the last few months.

She just needed to go and get a test.

Or three.

Just in case.

She looked back at Deacon. She’d go, get the test, and then she’d deal.

Jenn. DJ.

She’d know.

Harper quickly tugged on shorts and a t-shirt and flips before rushing out the back and down the beach. The ten minute walk felt eternal, but finally the fin from Rhianna’s mermaid tail sign came into sight.

She climbed the sandy steps and found a dark haired woman behind the bar.

Shit.

“Hi.”

“Hi there. Whatya have?”

Tequila.

Oh, my sweet God.

Harper collapsed onto the bar stool and put her head between her legs. What if she
was
pregnant? She’d drank enough tequila to do permanent damage to her own head, what had it done to… She put her hand over her middle. God.

Flashes of health class warnings from school filled her brain. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome? How much drinking would cause that? How much had she drank since she’d gotten pregnant? How many times had she shared a bottle of wine with Deacon at the end of the night or with Annie after a shitty party?

“Miss?”

Harper shot off the stool and knocked over chairs and God knew what else to get to the bathroom. She slammed onto her knees and everything she’d managed to eat came up.

A knock came at her door. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Harper said and felt another heave tighten her belly. Luckily she hadn’t really eaten anything. And she certainly wouldn’t be having chocolate ice cream anytime soon.

She heard the faucet run and then a hand with paper towels came under the door.

“Thank you.” Harper put the wet towel over her face then along the back of her neck before standing up and opening the door.

The woman with dark hair was leaning back against the counter. “Well, you don’t look drunk.”

Harper went to the sink at the far end of the counter. “No, I haven’t had anything to drink.”

“Either that’s a truly shitty case of food poisoning, or you have yourself a problem, darlin’.”

“Look. I don’t want to be rude, but…”

“Mind my own business?”

Harper met the woman’s shrewd blue eyes in the mirror. “Yeah.”

The woman’s eyebrow raised. “You come in my bar and toss your cookies, I kinda make it my business. Especially if you’re of the pregnant variety. You do what you want on your own time, but I don’t serve pregnant ladies here.”

Harper leaned heavily on the sink. “Oh, crap.” Her vision blurred and the sob came out of nowhere.

“Ah, hell.” The woman backed up and ripped off more paper towels. “Okay, honey. Relax.”

Harper reached for the paper towels. “I’m sorry,” she said around a hiccup. She blew out a ragged breath and sucked another deep one in. “I just figured out I was pregnant. I don’t know if I am for sure. I just got the clue and I—”

I just unknowingly tried to drown it in tequila the other night?
Was that what she was supposed to say? Horrified, she bent over and put her head between her knees again.

“Okay, okay.” The woman took her by the elbow and led her toward the door. “Done puking?”

“I think so.”

She pulled her into the dining room and off to the deck outside. “Elise,” the woman shouted. “Get me a glass of water for our friend, huh?”

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Honey, you came into my bar and had a little panic attack. It’s no big deal.”

“I’m Harper.”

“Rhianna. I own this place. You can call me Rhi though.”

Harper collapsed into one of the chairs and tipped her head back. Tears were still leaking from her eyes, for God’s sake. “I’m sorry. I’ll be okay in a minute.”

“Is there a reason you came tear-assing into my bar?”

Harper leaned forward until her forehead was touching the table. “I was looking for DJ.”

“Oh, so you’re one of her friends?”

“No, not really. I don’t know why I came down here exactly. I’m on my honeymoon. I left my husband sleeping and just had to get here to talk to DJ. I don’t know anyone else.” She drew in a stuttering breath. “I don’t have anyone to call. God, how freaking pathetic is that?” The only person she was close enough to talk to about this was exactly who she couldn’t tell. Jazz would lose her damn mind if she told her. And how could she expect her to keep a secret like this? It affected the entire band, not just them.

Then there was Deacon. He would kill her if she told anyone else before him.

No. She had no one to tell. She could call her mother, but they hadn’t been very close in the last five years.

What the hell did that say about her?

That she had no real girlfriends in all of this? She laid her cheek on the table, grateful for the cool surface. “DJ was just the first person I thought of.”

“Okay.”

Harper sat up. “Look, I know it doesn’t make any sense. I panicked. I don’t know if I’m pregnant for sure, but I don’t know where anything is around here. We’ve been holed up…”

“Doing what got you into trouble in the first place?”

Harper put her head down in her arms with a muffled scream. Yes. They’d been freaking screwing like there was no tomorrow. And before that, it was in desperate late night moments. “How could this have happened? I’m so good about my birth control. We just got married, for God’s sake. I just started a freaking business.”

Rhianna closed her hand over her arm. “Honey, you gotta take it down a notch. You’re going to hyperventilate.”

“Of course I am.” She popped her head up to stare into the sympathetic blue eyes of the woman across from her. “I can’t be pregnant.”

“Did you do the math?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her eyes. “I’m probably six weeks-ish.”

“And you didn’t notice?”

Harper sat back in her chair. “New business.”

“Right.” Rhi drummed her fingers on the table. “And it isn’t just stress?”

“I don’t know. I’ve had weird symptoms for the last few days. I just feel off, you know?” She sighed. “I don’t want to freak out my husband if I’m just being a basket case.”

Or herself. Because she was so freaking out.

“I just figured she could help. I’m so dumb.”

Rhi laughed. “No, you’re not. DJ’s good people. A bit of a pervert, but that’s why we love her.”

Harper snorted. “Yeah, too true.” She was used to perverts. No wonder she latched onto DJ since they got there.

“She isn’t on today.”

Harper sagged.

“But I’ve got her cell. So let’s give it a little ring, huh?”

“I don’t want to take her away from her day off. I’ll just call a cab and go into town.”

“Tell you what? If she’s not around, I’ll take you.”

“I can’t impose. I shouldn’t even do this to DJ. I just—”

“You panicked. I totally get it. I did the same thing once upon a time.”