To Be a Dad (Harlequin Superromance) (10 page)

“Bewildered, mostly. And maybe a little excited, like I said. But kind of scared, too. As you pointed out, the kid’s here to stay. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything so...permanent and irreversible in my life. Except, maybe, my mom dying.”

She heard the sadness in his voice. Strange to mention his mother’s death now. He never talked about her.

“We don’t have to live together. We have alternatives. Right now, yeah, because there’s nowhere else to go.” How she hated admitting her helplessness. “But sooner or later, probably in the spring, a house will go up for sale. You don’t have to take care of us. I’ve been doing it for years. And we can share fifty-fifty custody of Esmeralda. What I’m trying to say is you don’t have to give up your life for us. We’ll be fine.” The words had come out hard and low, and she ached all over from saying them. What she’d said was true, but it felt wrong to her.

He tossed the remote on the coffee table. “You don’t want to live with me. I get it. That’s fine. I’ll move out—”

She put her hand on his arm. His muscles were hard from tension. “That’s not what I mean. I hate depending on you as much as you hate taking care of all three of us. All I’m saying is you’re free. If you want to be.” She held her breath and her tears. She hadn’t realized it would be so hard to say that to him.

“Free.” He huffed out a breath as if she’d knocked the wind out of him. She braced herself when he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. After a minute, he seemed to pull himself together. “You know, if you’d asked me a few days ago how I’d react to that, I’d have said I’d be packing my bags and out of here in a flash.” He sent her a puzzling look as he picked up her hand and held it in his. “I don’t know how I feel now. Mixed up, I guess. Let’s just get through the next few months and see where they take us, okay?”

Teressa let out her pent-up breath. Dusty wasn’t the only one who’d started to change. She hadn’t wanted him to go. Not yet, anyway.

She relaxed back into the sofa and snuggled up beside him as she picked up the remote and turned on the TV. It was a relief to get all that out in the open and talk about how they were feeling. She loved that she could still talk to Dusty about anything. They’d always been good together like that. Now, they’d taken another baby step in their relationship. They were nowhere near declaring their undying love for each other, but neither one was pushing to run out the door. It didn’t sound like much, but it felt good. For the first time, Teressa wondered if they actually had a chance to build a life together.

* * *

“T
HANK
G
OD
YOU
’
RE
HOME
.
” Carmen stood in Dusty’s doorway, hugging herself against the cold day.

“What’s wrong?” Dusty’s stomach dive-bombed, and he stalled in the act of grabbing his gear and the bag of fresh haddock he’d caught for Teressa from the back of his truck. All day he’d worried about the twinges Teressa had had last night and what they meant.

Things had changed between them last night. His tension had eased, and all because she said he was free to leave, but he wasn’t sure what
free
meant anymore. The idea didn’t sound as appealing to him as it used to. If there was something seriously wrong with Teressa or with her pregnancy, he knew he wouldn’t handle it well. Wasn’t that exactly what he’d been trying to avoid all his life? Never, ever let yourself become too involved, because people could disappear on you. Hell, even Pops had almost checked out. Against his will, yeah, but his heart attack was a harsh reminder that things never stayed the same.

Carmen flapped her hand at him. “Nothing serious. I can’t get the fire started, and the house is cold.”

He grabbed his stuff and followed her into the chilly kitchen. “Where’s Teressa? I thought she was getting off early today.”

He’d hurried home as soon as he got in, determined to clean out the second bedroom for Teressa. His back had ached all day from sleeping on the couch. No wonder she was getting muscle spasms.

“She went to town with Anita to buy paint, but she forgot to put wood in the fire before she left, and I’m clueless about stuff like that. You need a backup heating system, Dusty.”

Sarah skipped into the kitchen and assumed her usual position, wrapped around his leg. Great. He limped over to the refrigerator, dragging Sarah with him and stuffed the fish inside.

“You stink.” She wrinkled her little pug nose. “I’m cold. What are we having for supper? I hate fish.”

Carmen snickered. “Time for me to go. Have fun.”

“Wait a minute. Don’t you usually work until four-thirty?”

A guilty look passed over her face. “Yeah, but you’re home now, so...”

“But I have work to do. I can’t work and watch the kids at the same time.”

“Sure you can. Teressa does it all the time.”

“No, I can’t,” he said through clenched teeth.

Carmen grimaced. “Give me a break. I’ve got to get ready for a hot date and drive all the way to Lancaster before seven. Come on,” she wailed. “You’d do the same thing if you were in my shoes.”

She was right. He’d disappointed his friends and family numerous times, all in the pursuit of happiness. More like selfishness. How many times had he said he’d be home for supper, but ended up running into a friend and going for a few drinks instead? Or promised to help Pops put in the winter wood, then put the chore off until the first snowfall because he was so busy doing whatever. It was a miracle he had any friends left or that his family even talked to him.

“Go.” He hunched his shoulders as he watched her grab her jacket and slip out the door. “Have a good time,” he mumbled. Sarah clung more tightly to his leg. He absently patted her head. “Where’s Brendon?” he asked.

As if waiting for his cue, Brendon poked his head around the corner, great gobs of goop running out of his nose while he sucked his thumb. He looked as if he was one blink away from crying.

Dusty closed his eyes to block out the view. “Sarah?”

She beamed up at him. “Yes?”

“You have to let go of my leg so I can go down to the basement and start the fire.”

Her bottom lip trembled. “What am I going to do?”

“When?”

“When you’re gone.”

He reached down and unpeeled her arms from his leg as a lightbulb went off in his head. “Watch TV,” he said.

“We’re not allowed to watch during the day.”

He strode into the living room and turned on the TV, then passed the remote to her. “You are now. Brendon, wipe your nose,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for the basement stairs.

He started a fire in the furnace and stood staring at the flames longer than necessary. Carmen was probably right. Now that he had kids—and, man, he still couldn’t process that thought without his neck muscles cranking into tight knots—he needed to keep the house warm all the time. He used to feed the fire before going out fishing, then bank it, and when he got home, if the house wasn’t warm, it wasn’t freezing, either. He was going to need more wood and another heat source, both of which translated into more money. It wouldn’t be long before he’d burn through the entire fifty grand Pops had dropped on him.

He threw a few logs into the fire and slammed the door shut. The things he could have bought with that fifty grand.

When he went upstairs, to his surprise the kids were glued to the TV. Sarah didn’t attach herself to his leg like a leech, and Brendon didn’t even look his way, let alone start crying.

“I’m taking a shower,” he yelled to them as he headed to the bathroom. TV was the best damned thing ever invented.

Curiosity got the better of him when he finished cleaning up, and he wandered into the living room to see what had captured the kids’ attention. “What are you watching?” He sat on the couch beside Sarah.

“Cowboys.” Sarah grinned at him.

“
Bonanza.
Right. I used to watch that when I was a kid. Didn’t know they still ran that show.”

When Brendon studied him over his shoulder from where he was lying on the floor, Dusty chuckled to himself. He never thought he’d see the day when someone couldn’t imagine
him
as a kid.

Well, he wasn’t a kid. He was a responsible adult, taking care of the children and trying to figure out what to eat for supper. Carmen was supposed to have taken care of that, too.

He wandered into the kitchen and gravitated to the refrigerator out of habit. A list stuck to the refrigerator door with a magnet caught his attention, and he pulled it off and started reading the detailed instructions Teressa had written. No wonder Carmen had left.

It was cool that Teressa had somehow found time to prepare their supper for them before she left, but not so great that the kids were such picky eaters. Brendon had to have his carrots mashed, without butter, but with salt, and Sarah did not eat peas. Ever.

Whatever
. He tossed the list on the counter, turned on the oven and put the shepherd’s pie in. Teressa must have remembered how much he loved shepherd’s pie. He could find a lot of things to complain about, but she’d been outdoing herself with the suppers she’d been cooking for them. And that after a full day of working in the café’s kitchen. He’d have to remember to thank her.

He went into the second bedroom and started hauling furniture and boxes of stuff from Teressa’s apartment down to the basement. Maybe they could throw away some of the junk they weren’t using. He stopped a couple of times to check on Sarah and Brendon, who were now watching some doctor yakking on about diets. The show looked fairly harmless.

Once he had the room almost clear, he washed his hands and turned off the TV. It was a lot later than he’d thought. Both kids stared at him with hollow looks. “Supper,” he said.

When Brendon started whining, Dusty pointed his finger at him and barked, “Don’t.” Which seemed to work for all of two minutes before the kid started again.

Sarah followed him into the kitchen. “He has to pee,” she said. “I’m not hungry.” She sounded as whiny as Brendon.

“You’ll feel better when you eat. Want to set the table while I take Brendon to the bathroom?”

“No.” She flounced out of the room, went back to the living room and turned on the TV again.

“Turn it off, Sarah, and set the table.” He turned to Brendon. “Come on, sport. I’ll set you up to pee.”

“Standing up,” Brendon said grouchily. “You promised.”

Dusty stopped midstride. “You’re right. I did promise to teach you how to pee standing up. I’m sorry. If I forget about stuff like that again, you have to tell me. Come on.” He headed for the door.

“Where?” Brendon’s little face wrinkled in surprise.

Dusty grinned. “It’s always more fun peeing outside. Wait until the snow comes. I’ll teach you how to write your name in snow.” He ushered the tiny boy outside. “Do you know how to spell your name?”

“No,” he giggled.

Dusty laughed. “Well, when you do, I’ll teach you.”

“What are you guys doing?” Sarah called from the house.

“Peeing,” Brendon called to his sister from the edge of the side yard.

“I want to, too.”

Like he’d let a six-year-old girl watch him take a leak. Bad enough if someone was driving by they might see them. But he hadn’t wanted to take Brendon too far from the house. “Not a good idea, Sarah. Stay in the house.” He showed Brendon the mechanics of getting into position and letting it go, and was about to caution him on the most important part, safely tucking Mr. Jolly away, when Sarah skipped over to them, pulled down her pants and attempted to pee standing up.

For God’s sake
.

Dusty barely got himself zipped up when Brendon started wailing. Dusty winced. The kid had caught his wiener in his zipper. He squatted down in front of Brendon to see if he could help when headlights suddenly illuminated the yard. Dusty, Brendon and Sarah all froze as the blinding light pinned them in place.

Dusty fell back on his ass as Teressa drove into the yard.

CHAPTER SEVEN

T
ERESSA
MADE
HERSELF
walk slowly as she moved across the yard to her babies. She wanted to race across the yard and tear them away from Dusty. Which was so unfair. She knew he would never, ever hurt her children. “What’s going on?”

Brendon burst into tears before she could reach him, and Sarah hobbled over to her mother with her pants still around her ankles and threw herself at her, wailing like the devil himself was after her. Dusty sat on his butt, looking as if he wanted to murder someone. She knew the feeling.

Teressa squatted down and wrapped one arm around each of her children as she glared at Dusty. “Using the yard as a bathroom? Really? Is this what you call responsible behavior?”

Dusty took his time to stand up. He dusted himself off before looking at her, his face carefully arranged in a neutral expression. “You’re absolutely right. I’m not parent material.”

With a sinking heart, Teressa watched him stalk into the house. What had she done? Why had she criticized him in front of the children? Why criticize him at all?

“Pull up your pants, Sarah. What were you doing out here?”

Sarah pulled her thumb out of her mouth. Teressa hadn’t seen her suck her thumb for over a year now, and she couldn’t even blame Dusty for the backward step. The fault lay entirely on her shoulders. She should have found out what was going on before she opened her big mouth.

She’d love to pretend she didn’t know why she’d lost her temper, but it had been building since she’d moved into Dusty’s house. Even their talk last night hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. There was still so much uncertainty in their future. If she had any other place to move to, now would be a good time to pack up and go, because the longer she stayed, the more she depended on Dusty, and the more entwined their lives became, the more desperate she grew. By moving in with him, she’d lost the small amount of control she had over her life, and every day felt like a struggle—a battle, really—to gain back the ground she’d lost.

And the worst part? Some days she wanted to let Dusty take care of her. He would if she asked, because that’s the kind of man he was. And she was a screaming bitch who was afraid to appreciate the good things that did come her way. She knew she was going to disappoint him eventually, might as well get it over with sooner than later. Hadn’t she disappointed her mother over and over again, so why would it be any different with Dusty?

Brendon slipped his hand into hers. “Dusty was teaching me how to pee standing up. My wee-wee got stuck in the zipper, but Dusty fixed it.”

That almost made sense. “And you, Sarah?”

“I wanted to pee standing up, too.”

“And Dusty said that was okay?”

“No.” Sarah’s bottom lip trembled. “He told me to stay in the house.”

“You didn’t listen to him.”

“No, but he’s stupid. I don’t have to listen to him.”

Teressa frowned at her daughter. “Why would you say a thing like that?”

Sarah glared at her defiantly. “Because you’re always saying he is.”

Teressa reeled back as if Sarah had hit her. She often muttered under her breath, complaining about Dusty leaving his work boots in front of the door where she tripped over them. Or a wet towel on the bathroom floor. Dirty jeans, socks, tools. Dusty was a slob, and it drove her crazy. And she liked having something to bitch about at the end of the day. She was tired when she got home and faced so much chaos when she walked through that door that it felt good to blow off steam. But not at Dusty’s expense.

Dusty probably felt the same way after work. But he never called her a bitch or stupid, did he?

“Mommy, I’m cold,” Brendon whimpered.

“Sorry.”

When they entered the house, she looked with dismay at the shepherd’s pie sitting on the top of the stove and the plates piled on the table. “You haven’t eaten supper yet.”

“I’m hungry.” Brendon climbed up on a chair.

“Me, too.” Sarah grabbed a plate and put it on the table.

Teressa shucked off her coat and started serving the food to them. “Wash your hands at the sink. I don’t understand. Didn’t Carmen get your supper?”

Sarah dried her hands on her pants and climbed up to the table. She stuffed a forkful of creamy potato into her mouth. “Nope.”

Teressa sat at the table. “What did she do?”

“Carmen went,” Brendon volunteered from the sink. “Dusty made the fire go and let us watch TV and made a bedroom for you.”

And heated up supper and tried to teach her son how to pee standing up. A male ritual, likely. She leaned forward and laid her head down on the table. Here she’d been preaching to him about Brendon needing a male role model, and Dusty had been doing that just by being himself.

She wasn’t crazy about the kids watching TV, but when Dusty made up his mind to complete a job, she knew nothing got in his way. Apparently, the job du jour was cleaning out the bedroom. For her.

She blinked back tears. She didn’t like herself very much at the moment. She was always telling Dusty to grow up, but she had some growing up to do, too. She might as well admit if Dusty left her and the kids, she’d be in trouble. She hadn’t given much thought—any thought, really—to how much he anchored her. She always dumped her worries on him because she trusted he’d always be her friend. She’d talked his ear off before she’d approached Adam about going in with her to buy the café. And when she needed a sounding board on whether to put Brendon in day care or let her mother take care of him, Dusty had made her write the pros and cons down and argued them with her.

She’d lied to herself—she depended on Dusty. Always had. She just hadn’t
depended
depended on him. But she had taken their friendship for granted.

She turned when Dusty came up from the basement, jumped out of her chair and threw herself into his arms. They both staggered backward.

“Bedroom. Now.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hallway to his bedroom. The minute they were inside the room, she pushed him against the wall and kissed him. Dusty made a weird, strangling sound in his throat, but she persisted until his body softened against hers, and he cupped her behind and lifted her against him.

She didn’t hold back, exploring his beautiful, velvet mouth with her tongue. He tasted so good, she could eat him up.

“Jesus, Teressa. You’re going to be the death of me,” he gasped, coming up for air. He let her body slide down his until she stood on her own two feet.

“I’m an idiot and a bitch and a shrew.”

“Shut up.” He took her jaw in his hand and forced her to look at him. “You’re talking about a good friend of mine.” He grinned. “Kiss me like that again, and I might forgive you.”

Instead she burrowed her face into his chest, trying to hold her tears at bay. “I’m so lucky to have you. I apologize for everything.”

She breathed more easily when she felt his laugh rumble through his chest. “That’s supposed to be my line, I think.”

“Seriously.” She pulled back to look at him. “I apologize for taking my bad mood out on you. I do that a lot, and I think it’s because no matter what I say or do, I can count on you to be there for me. I’ll try harder to think before I open my mouth. Promise.”

“It must have looked pretty strange, all of us in the yard, taking a piss.” He frowned. “The kids get away on me sometimes. I can’t control them.”

“Welcome to parenting.”

“Yeah, but you always know what you’re doing, and Sarah and Brendon listen to you.”

“On a good day. Not even a good day. A good hour. Kids test limits. That’s what they do. And if you’re consistent, that’s how they know they can trust you.”

“I kind of get it, but...not. I worry I’m going to mess up and hurt them. They’re so little, so...tender.” He settled his hands on her hips. “How about another kiss to boost my battered ego before we go back out there?” He grinned. “FYI, I
really
like it when you attack me. I could get into that.”

“You could, huh? I’ll take that into consideration.” She spread her hands over his chest, allowing herself to revel in the feel of his solid muscles under his T-shirt.

He seized the initiative this time and covered her mouth with his, his tongue sliding over hers, taking control. He tasted like licorice, and she flashed on the bag of licorice nibs on the front console of his truck. She loved the sweet, spicy taste. He turned them until her back was against the wall, then brought his body full length against hers and pushed with his hips. Automatically, she pushed back, his arousal jutting into her belly. Her pregnant belly.

As if reading her mind, he pulled back and placed his large, warm hand over her stomach. He rested his forehead against hers. “I feel the tiniest, little...”

She covered his hand with hers. “It’s okay to say it, Dusty. You feel a bulge, right?”

“Yeah.”

She smiled at the look of wonder in his eyes. “It’s going to get a lot bigger.”

His lips curved upward. “So are your breasts.”

She laughed. “So are my hips and ass.”

His stomach growled, and she poked him in the side with her elbow, relieved to move on. “That’s why you came up from the basement, isn’t it? You couldn’t resist my shepherd’s pie.”

He caught her finger in his hand and kissed the tip. “Guilty as charged. Have you finished having your way with me, Ms. Wilder, or do you still require my services?”

“You’re free to go.”

His smile dimmed. Bad choice of words because he wasn’t free, and they both knew whether they stayed together or not, they were bound for life because of the child they’d made. He kissed the tip of her nose, and then ambled down the hallway in front of her. Oh, for another hour alone with him. In the bedroom. Just the two of them.

But she’d have to be someone else for that to happen. Someone without two children and another one on the way. Dusty had been a good sport about tonight because that was what Dusty did. He kept the peace. And there was no doubt he wanted to have sex with her. But they both knew the morning after would be hell. He wasn’t ready to have two kids climb over him in bed to snuggle with their mommy. There was a good chance he may never be. Heavens, she’d been a parent for six years, and there were days when she could barely handle being a mom. And they were
her
kids, not Dusty’s. He didn’t have to love them, and she’d never settle for less than the best for them.

But imagine if Dusty did fall in love with Sarah and Brendon. And with her. She’d never indulged in that particular fantasy, and she was surprised to realize she liked the scenario in her head more than she thought she would. If she and Dusty could work past their individual hang-ups, they could have a chance as a couple. Not one of those they-got-married-because-they-had-to couples, but like soul mates. All the ingredients were there, they just had to put it together, and they needed time for that. But her pregnancy put a limit on the time they had to figure things out.

* * *

D
USTY
STOOD
WAITING
at the checkout of his favorite tool store. Man, he loved this place. Everything he’d ever wanted was here. He’d come in to town to pick up a couple new filters for his boat motor and some rope. Then he found the table saw he’d always wanted, but had never been able to convince himself he should buy. Somehow, today, he didn’t have that problem. Having Pops’s healthy check in his bank account had made the decision to buy it so easy. And he was also buying the new stereo for his truck he’d been looking at for a whole year. He’d meant to buy it months ago, but had never gotten around to it. He cursed under his breath when a twinge of guilt shot through him. He deserved this stuff. He needed it.

When the man standing behind him started telling his buddy about the great deal on chain saws the store had on for one day only, Dusty looked around and spied the front-end display of Husqvarna chain saws. No way. They had them on sale for four hundred and seventy-five dollars, a fantastic price.

He left his cart in line and hurried over to pick up a saw from the display. He hefted the saw in his hands, liking the weight of it. This wasn’t one of those toylike electric saws. This was the real thing. He already had a perfectly good chain saw. It was a few years old, but still running well. He didn’t
need
this one. He didn’t need the stereo, either. Not really. Didn’t mean he shouldn’t get it, though.

He hesitated as he felt another guilty twinge. There were a lot better things he could be spending his money on. He’d noticed the kids’ winter coats looked worn out, although Teressa would probably never let him buy them new coats, anyway.

What the hell. He hurried back just as the checkout line moved forward so it was his turn. He could always bring some of the stuff back for a refund if he changed his mind when he got home. He snorted. As if that would happen.

By the time he’d paid and loaded his booty into the truck, he wasn’t as excited as he thought he’d be about his purchases. But it was stupid to feel guilty about spending money when Teressa wouldn’t let him help her, anyway. As she’d pointed out, it was
his
money, not hers.

* * *

S
EVERAL
DAYS
LATER
, Dusty nodded to a table of men sitting close to the door as he entered the café. Normally, he’d stop and chat with everyone, but Stan, Brendon’s father, was part of the group. He hadn’t liked Stan all that much before he’d gotten Teressa pregnant, and he sure as hell didn’t like him any better now.

Stan had been a jock in high school, but so had Dusty. When Stan was a teenager, he was drafted by the Ottawa Senators and the whole village celebrated. Collina was going to have their very own superstar hockey player. But Stan had been taken out in the first season because of a knee injury, and he limped home, literally, to replay his glory year over and over in the legion for free drinks. Like his father, Stan slipped into alcoholism. Now, he worked as a deckhand on the Peters’ fishing boat, lived with his parents and still spent a lot of time drinking at the legion, although not many people were willing to buy him a beer anymore to hear his worn-out tales of glory.