Perfect Bastard (Mason Creek)

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Nate. You have the ranch. You’re famous and ridiculously wealthy. There’s not a lot of that around here.” So I was circling the truth, but it wasn’t an outright lie.

“That can’t be it. You pushed me out of the window, naked,” he said.

I giggled. “I’m sorry. I’m his baby girl. His only girl. You’re that guy who’s in the news.” I lifted my arms as if I couldn’t think of another reason.

“Maybe I should meet him,” Nate said, shocking the crap out of me.

“What? You want to meet my father?”

“Why not? If I explain that I like his daughter a lot—”

There was a pause as I tried to determine fact or fiction from his expression. “A lot?”

“A lot. And maybe after he gives me the I’ll kill you if you hurt my daughter speech, we won’t have to hide.”

“Hide what? What is this?” I asked.

Nate slid a plate of piping-hot eggs over to me. “Toast? Or I have bagels.”

Was he avoiding that answer? Did I want to know? “Why are you always trying to feed me?”

“You’ll need your energy,” he said with a tantalizing smirk.

“Will I?” I asked. He nodded. “Toast is fine.”

I didn’t push for an answer to my question, not yet. Things were going well. I didn’t need labels yet.

We ate in companionable silence, but the heat between us grew with every bite. When I put my fork down on my empty plate, he came around the island and scooped me up. Then he tossed me over my shoulder.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, nearly choking on a laugh.

“Last night, it was your room. This morning it’s mine.”

He carried me up the stairs and I slapped at his fantastic ass all the way. “Let me down,” I complained, though I wasn’t at all mad.

When he did, his eyes were flashpoints of desire. “Strip,” he ordered.

I complied, and he made it worth my while.

A very long time after, we lay in his bed with me in his arms, lazily drawing on his chest.

“What’s your favorite meal?” he asked.

“Planning on feeding me again?”

His hand tightened on my waist. “I want to know everything about you, Avery Bean.”

This man kept proving himself opposite of what everyone thought. “Pizza. You?”

“I don’t have favorites. I’ll try anything once.”

“Favorite movie?”

“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about that before. I like action, thrillers, sci-fi. But no favorites. You?”

“Don’t laugh,” I said. “I love It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.”

He chuckled. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect that.”

“Linus is great. He’s such an optimist. Even when the Great Pumpkin didn’t show up, he had hope for the next year.”

“My best friend’s wife loves Linus, too. By the way, she wants me to invite you over to their place for dinner.”

My finger stilled. He wanted me to go have dinner with his friends. Wasn’t that like the first step in a relationship? My heart beat uncontrollably. “You want me to meet your friends?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, why not? They’ve been asking about you since the bar night. Plus, Aiden was the one who came that day when you left like a pissed-off wildcat.” His hand ran along my hip, stoking the flames of desire. “Oh, I should warn you, they have twins not even a month old.”

“Oh,” I said as realization hit. “You were buying the cribs for them.”

“Yeah. They weren’t expecting twins.”

“And you went out to make sure they had what they needed and bought the dollhouse for Zoe?” This man was so not a bastard. How wrong I’d been.

“You weren’t supposed to know. Did Ms. Greene tell you?”

I shifted because I needed to see his face when I spoke. “No. I guessed. Zoe has wanted that dollhouse forever, and I figured you saw her. But why would you spend over a thousand dollars on a kid you don’t know?”

“The dollhouse deserved an owner who would appreciate it. I knew Zoe was that person.”

“She’s not mine.”

“I guessed. Haley’s her mother.”

“Yeah. My best friend.”

There wasn’t an ounce of recognition on his part. My phone buzzed. I reached down on the floor for my jeans pocket. “Shit, I have to go.”

“Why?” he said. “The bed is warmer with you in it.”

I rolled in time to avoid his capture. “I kind of stole Dad’s truck so I wouldn’t be followed. He’s woken up, and he’s asking if I took his truck.”

“You don’t have to hide. I don’t care if anyone finds out about us.”

“Aren’t you worried about the press?” I asked, while putting on my jeans.

“They’re going to say what they want to say regardless of the truth.”

“Doesn’t that make you mad?” I searched the floor for my bra but gave up. My hand landed on his shirt, and I grabbed it. He said nothing when I put it on.

“I’ve learned to live with it, otherwise I’ll be in a constant state of mad.”