And a miniature cow.
My comment serves its intended purpose, and Mariah gives me a dazzling smile, her mood lightening almost immediately. “Maybe.”
“Maybe when it warms up, I can show you a few of what could qualify as caves here on the property.” Another offer jumps right out, this one even more ridiculous than the one before it.
I don’t leave my house. I sure as hell don’t invite other people to leave it with me.
But if I don’t show Mariah around her new home, someone else will. Someone like Tucker, who will want to show her way more than just what the property offers.
Or worse, Walker. Walker won’t try to get Mariah in bed—right away—like Tucker would, but his laid-back temperament and tidy ways will likely be real fucking appealing to her. Plus he’s seen her in the flesh and already knows she’s a hell of a good cook, so I have to assume he’d be inclined to take a stab at getting close to her. Any man with half a fucking brain would.
And apparently, that includes me. Because it’s not lost on me that instead of making sure she was okay after her fall and running right back to my rooms, I’m sitting beside her. Offering to show her caves and let her use the washer and dryer in my room. I’m thinking of ways to make her happy. Make her smile.
And unfortunately, I’m successful at it. Once again, Mariah’s face lights up, her expression so warm and eager I’m afraid I willdo questionable things—possibly illegal ones—to have her look at me this way all the time.
“I would love that.” The words have barely cleared her distractingly full lips before that damn cloud slides across her face again.
But this time, something else happens. Something that not only confirms my suspicions, but also offers a loose timeline.
Mariah’s hand slides to her stomach, curving against the spot just beneath her belly button as she forces her smile to remain. “But I guess it will depend on how things are going when it warms up.” Her skin had started to pink up, but now it seems to pale again. “A lot can happen between now and then.”
I know. That’s what I’m afraid of.
Without thinking, I lift a hand to my right side, scratching at the scars I will carry for the rest of my life. The ones that remind me of how I failed the people I loved most.
Those scars are also likely responsible for the draw I feel toward Mariah. The need to keep her safe that crawls across my hide, making it feel tight and itchy. It’s a constant sensation that has only abated twice since she’s been here.
Everything inside me seemed to calm the night I came down when she was sleeping on the couch and saw her face-to-face for the first time. When I retrieved a blanket from my room, covering her up so she’d be warm.
And now. Sitting beside her, making sure she’s eaten and unharmed. Having her within reach in case she needs something.
Needsme.
Maybe that’s why she ended up here. The reason the universe—and my mother—dropped Mariah into my peaceful little world. Not to torment me—though she does—but because there’s no one else to take care of her. No one else who would have seen the signs she was about to lose consciousness. No one else who understands how awful morning sickness—and pregnancy in general—can be.
Thinking Mariah could be here because I’m the best thing forher feels scarily good. It gives me a purpose I thought would never be mine. Offers an opportunity that was taken from me.
An opportunity I swore I would never have again. Did everything in my power to avoid the possibility it could happen. I hid away. Isolated myself from the world and all its terrifying possibilities.
Because while I could be the best thing for Mariah and her baby, she is the worst thing for me.
11
Mariah
Icome downstairs to find Titus is once again set up at the kitchen island. In the week since I passed out, he’s been out of his rooms more than he’s been inside them. He works in the kitchen. Eats breakfast, lunch, and dinner with me. He even joins me on the couch at night, watching shows he doesn’t give two shits about.
And I’m pretty sure it’s strictly because he’s worried I’m going to pass out again. It’s the same reason he follows me around all day making sure I eat and drink. The same reason his eyes are on me more often than not. It’s like he thinks I could drop at any second.
And this morning is no exception.
My feet have barely hit the hardwood of the main floor before Titus turns to me. His green eyes sweep me from head to toe, like he’s gauging the state I’m in and the likelihood he’ll have to scoop my unconscious body up off the ground.
“Good morning.” His greeting is a deep rumble that flutters through my insides.
Why does he have to be so hot? Why couldn’t he have been like Walker? Cute, but resistible, instead of intense and intriguing and…
Sexy. The man is just sexy.
