The apology seemed genuine, and part of me wanted to accept it. Unfortunately for him, I was still pissed off. It’d been weeks of nothing from him, and now he wanted to apologize? I recrossed my arms and hitched an eyebrow at him. “You don’t say?”
His brows knit together slightly, clearly not loving my attitude. Well, good. I didn’t love his either.
“You’re not exactly making this easy on me.”
“And you think I should?”
“Can I please come inside? I was hoping we could talk.”
“I tried talking with you. You stormed out on me. Why should I talk to you now?”
He scowled down at me, somehow standing closer to me than he was a minute ago. “Darcy.”
Why did him growling my name alone have my resolve lessening? And when did the heat in my house kick on? I was sweating all over again.
Rolling my eyes, I uncrossed my arms and opened the door wider, stepping aside so he could enter. “Fine. I’ll give you five minutes.”
I could’ve sworn I’d heard him mutter something that sounded an awful lot like “brat” under his breath, as he brushed past me, but I wasn’t sure enough to call him out on it.
The man had no problem making himself right at home, setting his helmet on the kitchen island and taking a seat on one of the barstools. If he thought I was going to offer him something to drink he was sorely mistaken. Turns out, I was feeling awfully petty.
I took up a spot on the opposite side of the island, letting the marble put distance between us just in case he said something that had me wanting to punch him. Not that I had any problems with leaping across the table.
“How are you, um, feeling?”
A laugh escaped me. “Are you really asking that?”
“Yes?”
“I’m tired, hungry, andwildlycranky, so you might want to get to your point.”
“I’ll do a paternity test,” he snapped, his voice more hurried than aggressive, like he was trying to say it before he could stop himself, and annoyance was just his default tone.
However, of all the things he could have said, that was one of the last things I expected to hear come out of his mouth. Almost three weeks ago, I sat with this man in a booth and told him I was potentially carrying his child, and he looked me in the eyes andinsistedthe baby wasn’t his—insisted that I’d get nothing from him. Maybe my face hadn’t shown it, maybe I put on a better front than I thought, but I’d been vulnerable with him. I’d let my guard down, which was something I never did, and he fled the bar without so much as a backwards glance. Now, here he was, in my house, sitting at my kitchen island,offeringto do a paternity test?
I glanced at my glass of water on the counter skeptically, as if it was the reason I was hallucinating an apologetic Archer.
“Darcy?” His voice was gentle, so at odds with the rest of him. Nothing about Archer was gentle. His entire persona was bad boy biker dude mixed with sexy firefighter and a dash of danger. No one looked at him and said, “I bet he has a secret love for animals,” or “he probably makes a delicious chocolate chip cookie.” Every bit of his appearance was exactly what you got.
Snapping my gaze back to his, I pinned him with a cautiously curious look. “Why?”
Shock registered on his features, like he hadn’t expected that particular response from me. “Why?”
“Yes!” I shouted. “Why? Why are you offering to do the test when you made it perfectly clear you wanted nothing to do with either of us?”
He had the good sense to look ashamed. “Because, I’m not a coward. I was an ass, and I reacted poorly, and for that I’m sorry.”
I scoffed, the hurt I felt in that booth resurfacing—that’s what bottling your emotions will do for you. “Just for that?”
He inhaled the deepest breath I’d ever heard someone take, followed by an equally large exhale. “I’m trying to make things right here.”
Glaring at him, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Try harder.”
Maybe I should’ve eased up on him a bit. Hewashere to apologize after all, but he really had been an ass.
“What do you want from me, Darcy?” He sounded a touch exasperated, but also desperate. Desperate for what, I wasn’t sure. Did he genuinely want to make things right by me, or did he just not want me to think he was a coward?
Regardless, my mind began racing with all the possibilities. I’m sure if I asked for money he’d agree, but that wasn’t me. I wasn’t rich by any means, but I didn’t need his financial help, and I wasn’t the type of woman to take it simply because I could.
