Legend (Arizona Vengeance 3)

I bet his interior decor is done in browns and cream colors.

Even though I have a built-in bar, I don’t drink enough to stock it with glasses and such. Instead, I keep a fifth of bourbon, vodka, and tequila in a kitchen cabinet next to my coffee cups.

With bourbon in hand, I grab two mugs and ask if he wants ice. He declines and I pour a hefty shot for him and a tiny shot for me.

I hand him his drink and suggest, “Let’s sit in the living room.”

Legend follows me in there, taking note of the Scrabble board on the coffee table. “Sorry I ruined your Scrabble party.”

My responding laugh is enough to make him smile back at me. “You didn’t ruin it. I have them often enough that this one won’t be missed.”

“Scrabble’s a good game,” he says as he sits down on my couch. It’s covered in a navy denim material that’s super soft to the touch and the cushions are deep and plush. He slouches down into it, propping an ankle up on the opposite knee.

Staring down into the liquor, he says, “What a night, huh?”

I sit at the opposite end of the couch, kick my sandals off and pull my feet up underneath me. I tug the edges of my cotton skirt down for modesty. When I look over at Legend, I find him watching me like a hawk and it causes my skin to flush.

He holds his mug up. “A toast. To you. For being there for me on what is probably the most momentous night of my life.”

I don’t reply for a moment, but slowly raise my own cup. “To you. For handling this with a hell of a lot of grace and strength. Most people would be falling apart by now.”

Legend snorts before putting the mug to his mouth, and by the way he tilts it back deeply and his throat works, I know he swallowed the entire amount. He hisses through his teeth and pushes up off the couch, heading into the kitchen.

I watch silently as he grabs the bottle and heads back my way. He doesn’t sit but rather pours himself another shot while standing on the opposite side of my coffee table. He places the bottle down and takes another deep drink.

When he looks at me, his eyes are swimming with emotion. “I can’t be a dad. I’m not ready.”

I don’t know if it’s true or not, so I tell him what he needs to hear. “Yes, you can and you are ready because you very well may have to be.”

Legend shakes his head. “I travel 50 percent of my work year, sometimes I’ll be gone as much as seven days straight. How the hell can I care for a child?”

“You get a nanny,” I tell him simply. “You can afford the best child care with what you make.”

“Okay,” he says as he starts to pace. He points his mug at me. “I’ll give you that. But what type of parent am I, traveling away from my kid for days and days at a time?”

“Take her with you,” I reply with a shrug. “I’m sure you can afford that too.”

Legend rolls his eyes at me. “You have an answer for everything.”

“That’s because there is an answer for everything.” I give him an understanding smile and take a tiny sip of my bourbon. It burns going down, but I welcome the bit of calm it will bring to me because having Legend Bay in my house is a bit disconcerting. “You just have to figure out some things, that’s all.”

His body goes still as he stares at me. I think my words might sound trite and perhaps a bit offensive, as if I’m downplaying the magnitude of what he’s facing.

He surprises me when his lips curl up and his eyes flash with amusement. “How is it just but a few short hours ago I was cursing you when I pulled into my driveway, looking at your Griswold decorations and now I’m sitting in your living room getting sage advice from you?”

“Technically, you’re standing,” I point out with a grin. “And I’m convenient, I guess.”

“You’re not convenient,” he growls low.

“Why do I irritate you so much?” I ask curiously.

“You don’t,” he asserts confidently.

“I did,” I retort with a laugh.

Legend stares at me, seemingly trying to figure out what to say. He certainly can’t deny I used to piss him off a lot.

It’s with a bit of disappointment that he just shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re just so…out there. Ostentatious. It grated on me, I guess.”

“You are kind of a stick-in-the-mud,” I tell him sagely.

He shakes his head and glares at me. “I just happen to like order. And rules. It’s the way I was raised.”

“Military?” I guess.

I get a slow blink of surprise in return, and he admits, “Navy. My dad was a pilot and now he flies commercially since he retired.”