"Guess not."
Arms pumping, J.T. thought about telling Chris he didn't have to make any decisions, but hesitated. His son had asked a man's question and deserved a man's answer.
J.T. slowed the reps, replaced the weights and faced Chris eye to eye. "The best I can offer you is the knowledge that you're in the same boat with the majority of the male population. Women are a mystery. And the guy who figures out that mystery could sell the secret for enough money to buy the whole damn factory."
Something he now knew wasn't his calling, even if that factory could buy Rena everything she deserved. Damn but he'd wanted to give her more. Yet even as his gut revolted at the thought of a repeat of three months ago, a repeat of what he'd put Rena through, he knew he wouldn't walk away from the Air Force.
"My advice, son? Go ahead and quit the job at the restaurant. Study your butt off for the exams. Then enjoy the hell out of that lifeguard job. I'm betting one of those bathing suits works her way over to your tower by the end of the first week."
He clapped his son on the back, and even though Chris only scrounged a half smile, their talk had gone well. Or at least better than any talk before.
The door into the house squeaked, opened. Rena stood silhouetted, wearing a maternity jumper.
Who the hell sucked all the air out of the garage? Because he damn well couldn't find any.
This baby was real, and getting closer to being born. A dumb-ass obvious thought, still the speed of time ticking away hadn't hit him until then.
She wasn't showing much, but nearing the fourth month, there was no question. The silky green fabric skimmed her tiny bulge. "Supper's ready."
Rena's eyes lingered on J.T.'s shoulders—bared by a workout tank T-shirt. He could see her pupils dilate from clear across the garage. His heart rate revved in time with her rapidly rising and falling chest.
Chris snatched a towel off the hook. "Great. I'm starving. No surprise, huh?" their son rambled on in the thick silence. "Cool new clothes, Mom. Are you sure you're not carrying twins?"
Twins? Rena went as pale as he felt.
J.T. thumped his son on the chest. "Way to go charming your mother, bud. Are you trying to get us all killed?"
Chris winced. "Sorry. You, uh, look nice, Mom."
Rena gripped the railing and walked down the four steps into the garage with only a slight limp. Time was definitely running out before he would be asked to leave. Soon, she wouldn't need him.
Hell, she hadn't needed him at all since she graduated.
She stopped in front of her son, twisted a dainty fist in his shirt and tugged him down … to kiss him on top of his curly head. "You're forgiven for the twins comment, hon."
"And, uh," he stuttered, straightening, "I'm really sorry for what I said the other night." His thin arms wrapped around her for a rare teenager hug.
She patted his back with the same reassurance she'd given to lull him to sleep after toddler nightmares. "It's okay, hon."
"Thanks. Love ya, Mom." Toddler images aside, the pointed stare he shot his father over her head was definitely all man shouting, Hurt my mama again and I'll take you down. He blinked, returning to sixteen. "Catch ya' later, dudes, I'll just grab some food on my way up to my room. I gotta get some homework done. Thanks for the advice about the job stuff, Dad."
Their son's footsteps faded, but neither of them looked away from each other, her gaze still riveted on his shoulders and sweat-soaked T-shirt sticking to his chest. His eyes unable to move from the fertile curves of her body.
The primal need to protect her, have her, surged. The urge to lock that door and find new uses for the weight bench throbbed through him.
She backed, gripped the railing and found the first step. "I'll meet you inside."
The wind through the window molded her silky dress around killer legs and a gentle baby bulge.
"In a minute." Once he willed away the arousal.
Her retreat made it clear. No kiss this time.
At least he'd gotten one thing right during the talk with Chris. Chris would turn in his notice, ditch the extra delivery duties, and maybe they would use the extra time for more talks.
And since the added plans for tomorrow night's surveillance flight should net that final drug trafficking link, he would have a couple of days off to focus on his family. He could step up the pace on the romance crapshoot in hopes that someday he got it right.
Chapter 10