Holiday Baby Scandal

Letting out a humorless laugh, Laney turned. “Like hell you will. I can handle this myself.”

Throwing his words right back at him should’ve made her feel marginally better, but she only felt empty. She shot a glance to each of her brothers.

“If I come across any new leads on the mole, I’ll let you know.”

She couldn’t be in this room another second, and at this point she didn’t care what they did to one another. They were all morons. Laney wondered how the hell she’d been cursed to be surrounded by idiots. Not one of them was thinking beyond this moment. Her brothers weren’t looking to the future, to a new generation of O’Sheas, and Ryker was being so damn stubborn, she was getting another headache thinking about it.

By the time she got home, all Laney wanted to do was soak in a bubble bath and think about her precious baby. Designing a nursery in her head was exactly what she needed to relax. No work, no men, just sweet little baby thoughts.

Thirteen

Ryker’s eye throbbed. He’d deserved the single punch to the face...hell, he had expected so much more. Braden had delivered the blow, and Ryker hadn’t even attempted a block.

How could he fault them for being protective of Laney? Ryker had done several interventions on her behalf when she’d been with men who weren’t appropriate. He expected nothing less from Braden and Mac.

But Ryker had hurt her. He’d lied when he said the baby changed nothing. This baby changed everything. He’d been void of emotion for so long, something uncomfortable kept shifting in his chest, and he was scared as hell. Not that he’d ever admit such a thing aloud. He’d meant what he said when he’d told her there was no “us.” Even so, he couldn’t seem to stay away.

Though it was late, Ryker found himself standing outside Laney’s house. It was time for damage control. He didn’t text her first, nor was he about to knock. He knew O’Sheas hurt deeply and wanted to be left alone.

Too damn bad.

Ryker let himself in, punched in her security code and locked the dead bolt behind him. The Christmas tree lit up in the corner drew his attention to the pewter ornament hanging front and center. She’d genuinely been surprised and happy when he’d given that to her. He’d never seen her smile like that, at least not directed his way. He wanted to see that again. He needed to know he hadn’t damaged something inside her.

Damn it. He raked a hand through his hair. He knew more than most how deeply harsh words sliced, and once they were out, there was no way to take them back.

“What do you want?”

Ryker glanced up the staircase. Laney stood on the landing, belting her robe, her damp hair lying across one shoulder.

He remained where he was, though everything inside him demanded he rush up the stairs, grab her and beg for forgiveness. Pride wouldn’t let him...the same damn pride that was making her hurt.

Why did he have to be such a bastard? Why didn’t he have normal feelings like everyone else? He’d been fine with his callous ways...until Laney.

“I came to apologize, though I doubt you’ll accept it.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she nodded. “You’re right. Which brother hit you?”

“Braden.”

“Neanderthals,” she muttered before starting down the steps. “I should get you some ice.”

Ryker paused. “You’re going to play nurse after what happened?”

Laney reached the landing, her hand braced on the newel post. “Braden had no right to hit you because we slept together. That’s none of his business. But don’t mistake the bag of ice as my forgiveness.”

Even when she was pissed, Laney wanted to help. She managed to do things to him, things he never thought possible. She made him feel as if he actually had a heart. Problem was, he had no idea what the hell to do with it.

When she reached the bottom step, Ryker pivoted just enough to block her. With her up just those few inches, she was at eye level and right where he wanted her to be.

“Don’t make this more difficult,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip. “I’m tired, Ryker. You said enough earlier.”

Jasmine. She’d used some form of Jasmine soap or shampoo, or whatever other potion women used. And she smelled absolutely delicious.

“I didn’t mean those words the way they came out,” he told her, clenching his fists. He wanted to reach for her, was desperate to touch her, but he didn’t want his other eye blackened. He may be desperate, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Yet you waited until we were alone to tell me that.” She quirked a brow. “Your apology is accepted, but the damage is done. Do you want ice or not?”

“No.”