Come Home to Me (23 page)

“A couple of hours.” Cheyenne was obviously concerned.

“Can’t we put it off?” Presley asked.

Her sister gave her an incredulous look. “Are you kidding? Dylan already thinks I’m pregnant. And I’m ovulating. I took a test to prove it. We have to act as soon as possible.”

Riley was on his way back, so Presley bent over the stroller as if she was searching for something. “I’ll get in touch with him.”

Cheyenne didn’t have time to respond.

“I broke down and bought a piece of the coffee cake,” Riley announced. “I know you don’t eat a lot of sugar,” he added in an aside to Presley, “but you two have to try this.”

Presley managed a smile, accepted the fork he handed her and took a small bite. He was right—she wasn’t interested, in the coffee cake or the conversation that followed. But she soldiered on, smiled and made small talk until they split up. Then she canceled her next massage and walked over to Amos Auto Body. She didn’t really want to show up at Aaron’s work. She knew it would attract too much attention from his brothers. But she was afraid that if she didn’t talk to Aaron before the big “procedure” tonight, he might feel justified in bowing out.

* * *

When Dylan used the PA system to call Aaron to the front office, Aaron twisted around to look at Mack, who was helping him fix the hydraulic lift in one of the repair bays. “If he wants me, why doesn’t he just walk his ass back here?”

Wiping the grease from his hands, Mack stretched his back. “Beats me.”

Aaron scowled at the parts lying all over the concrete. This wasn’t a good time to take a break. “You okay here?”

“Hell, no,” Mack said. “You’re better at putting this back together than I am. I’ll wait. I need a drink, anyway.”

They walked to the front, and as soon as they passed through the door, Mack veered off to the vending machine and left Aaron standing in the middle of the lobby, staring at Presley, who was wearing a simple white cotton dress that set off her dark skin.

Since when did she get so damned pretty?

She was sitting in one of the plastic chairs along the front window but got to her feet when she saw him. “Hello.”

It was almost impossible to keep his gaze from sliding down her body. These days she did something to him he couldn’t explain, and that dress only made it worse.

To avoid temptation, he glanced outside, thinking that maybe Cheyenne had driven her over, or that she’d borrowed a car. The shop was at least a mile from Presley’s studio. But he didn’t see any evidence suggesting she had a vehicle. “How’d you get here?” he asked.

“I walked.”

He noticed the leather sandals on her feet, the nail polish that matched her lip gloss. Pink? She’d grown so conservative—but her tattoo reminded him that she wasn’t as conventional as she appeared. It was the combination of that wild streak, the hard-luck beginning and what she’d made of herself since that appealed to him. “That’s a hike.”

“It’s a nice day. I didn’t mind.”

She’d never been one to complain. He liked that about her, too—liked that she was willing to make the most of any situation. No question her background had left some scars, but it had also created a woman who was happy with the simple things in life.

He could feel Dylan watching them from where he stood behind the counter, working on the computer. “What’s up?”

Had she come out here to drive him crazy, like she had last night and during every other encounter since she’d returned to town? Even when he was making love to her, he couldn’t really reach her. He’d
never
been so off balance with a woman. She used to be consistent, predictable, always there waiting for his attention. But now...she was determined not to get caught in the same trap and was withholding what she’d once given so freely.

He couldn’t be happy when he was with her, and he couldn’t be happy when he wasn’t, because...

He wasn’t sure exactly. All he knew was that he no longer felt as ambivalent toward her as he had two years ago. No doubt it would surprise her to learn that Wyatt wasn’t the only thing that drew him to her place each night. He looked forward to seeing her just as much. But she wouldn’t believe it if he told her. She wouldn’t believe he cared about her, wouldn’t even believe he found her
attractive
.

At this point, he wished he didn’t. He was done trying to overcome the past. He
couldn’t
overcome it—not if she wouldn’t let him. He was just going to be Wyatt’s dad and leave Presley alone. That was what she wanted, wasn’t it?

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“About...”

She cleared her throat and shot Dylan a covert glance. “Wyatt. What else?”

He had a feeling this had nothing to do with their child, but she wasn’t the only one eager for some privacy. With a nod, he held the front door and they walked outside and around the building.

“I’m sorry about what I said this morning.” She bit her lip as she looked up at him, and the frustration he’d been feeling since she returned to town welled up again. One minute he thought nothing had changed between them; the next it felt like everything had.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she added when he didn’t respond. “And I didn’t realize what I said would do that.”

“Because I have a heart of stone.”

“Not stone.” Her normally smooth forehead rumpled as she cast about for the right words. “You can be sensitive and...and kind. And you always—”

“Stick up for the underdog,” he broke in. “You’ve told me that before.”

“You don’t sound like you’re taking it as the compliment it’s intended to be.”

“I don’t want praise for protecting the weak. As far as I’m concerned, that should be expected of any man. Anyway, you can’t be considered an underdog anymore. You’re on your feet and you’re doing great. So why do you think I keep coming around?”

“You’re Wyatt’s father,” she said. “Why else? You already love him and you want to be with him as much as possible before you leave.”

“But
you
play no role in that?”

Her eyes slid away from his. “I’m sure you’d like me to be supportive of your relationship with Wyatt.”

“So
that’s
why I keep trying to get in your pants.”

She shifted from one foot to the other. “If you can get a piece of ass in the same place, why not?”

“Shit.” He shook his head. If, after the past few weeks, she still believed he was using her, there was no convincing her. He’d burned her in the past and, although it was unintentional, it had been traumatic enough that she couldn’t get beyond it. Maybe he’d been a fool to even try—but there was something there, something he’d never felt for any other woman. “And you’ve put out for me so much since you got back,” he said dryly.

“I have!” she retorted.

They’d been together three or four nights in the past two months, but not nearly as often as he would’ve liked. She tried to push him away every time he got close. It was only after he’d gone to a great deal of effort to overcome her resistance that she became compliant. At least, that was the case last night. And then, as soon as they got out of bed, she reverted to the person she was right now. No matter how much fun they had together, no matter how eager he was to see where his feelings might lead, she cut him off and built an even higher wall.

“A few nights are hardly a lot. And you’ve turned around and spit in my face every time.”

“You’d rather I fell swooning at your feet? Because you liked that so much before?”

“We’re not talking about before. That was then, this is now.”

“Never mind.” She waved him off, and he was glad. Although he blamed her for his frustration, he wasn’t entirely sure that was fair. He couldn’t identify exactly what he wanted or what he needed. He just knew it was more than she was giving him. And maybe, because he’d been so stubborn before, he deserved it.

“I’d rather not talk about us,” she said. “I can’t. I don’t have the time.”

“Why?”

“I have a massage at four. I have to get back. I already canceled one to come here. I don’t want to lose another appointment.”

“You canceled— Wait. Why’d you do that?”

“To make sure what I said this morning isn’t going to keep you from showing up tonight.”

What was she talking about? He eyed her dubiously. “Showing up where?”

“At my house.”

“I don’t remember being invited over. You’ve been too busy trying to shove me away.”

She glanced around again and lowered her voice. “You have a date with Cheyenne.”

“Don’t call it a date,” he said with a grimace. “We’re talking about my sister-in-law.”

“You know what I mean.”

“So she’s ovulating?”

“Yes. She’s been texting you, but she hasn’t gotten a response.”

He thrust his hands in his pockets. “I was in such a hurry this morning that I left my phone at home.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. “Does that mean you’ll go through with it?”

If only he didn’t have to... But he couldn’t set Dylan up for that kind of disappointment. “What time?”

“Late. After Dylan’s asleep and she can slip out. She’ll have to text us both. He could watch TV until midnight or later.”

“Okay.”

“You’ll get back to her?”

“I told her I’d do it, didn’t I?”

She took a deep breath. Apparently, she’d been nervous that she’d screwed things up for her sister. “Okay. Good. Thanks for that.”

“There’s just one catch.”

At the change in his voice, she turned around and clasped her hands in front of her. Maybe she could tell from the way he was looking at her what his “catch” would involve.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“It’ll cost you a kiss.”

“Why?”

“Because I finally have some leverage.”

“Stop it.” She knew he wouldn’t bail, regardless of what he said. “The only reason you want to kiss me is because you know I don’t want you to.”

He almost laughed. “Since when?” he asked. “You might say that, but your body tells me something else.”

She folded her arms, assuming an even more defensive posture. “Fine. Make it fast.”

He folded his arms, too, and leaned against the cinder-block wall. “
You
have to kiss
me
.”

“Why are you playing these games?” she asked.

“It’s not a game.”

Looking irritated, she came closer, rested her hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoe so she could press her lips to his. At first he thought it was going to be the worst kiss they’d ever shared. But once he slid his arms around her, she melted into him as she always did. Then she parted her lips, allowing him exactly what he wanted—a way to say goodbye that might actually show her how he felt.

Not that he expected her to be convinced.

At least she wasn’t the one to pull away. When he broke off the kiss and lifted his head, she actually seemed a little dazed.

“You win,” he said, presenting her with his best smile.

She stared up at him. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll come over and give Cheyenne what she wants. And then I’ll leave you alone in the future.”

“What?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“But...what about Wyatt?”

“We’ll make a schedule so I can see him.”

Instead of offering her a ride to her studio, as he normally would, he walked back into the shop. He hoped she wouldn’t let him go that easily. He wanted her to fight for what they had the way he’d been fighting. But if she wasn’t willing to forgive and forget and try again, to have some faith that he could love her, there was nothing he could do.

25

P
resley had been anxious all day. She told herself that her unease had nothing to do with her encounter with Aaron at the auto body shop. She didn’t care if he was backing off. That was what she’d wanted him to do from the beginning, wasn’t it? If he wasn’t there at every turn, tempting her, maybe she could get over him.

She was just nervous about the insemination and her role in it. Fortunately, Wyatt was down for the night so they didn’t have to worry about him. And they had the kit Cheyenne had ordered online. Each tool was lined up on a piece of waxed paper on her dresser, which she’d cleared off for that purpose. She’d removed the syringe and the insemination catheter from their separate packages and attached them. She’d also read all the paperwork. She was supposed to insert a speculum in Cheyenne’s vagina and widen it, find her cervix with a flashlight and use the catheter to deposit Aaron’s sperm at the opening.

The procedure sounded simple enough—except that Presley was afraid she wouldn’t recognize the cervix even if she saw it. Not only that, but what if she was shaking too badly to deposit the semen in the right place? To force it from the catheter as slowly as she’d been instructed so it would pool correctly?

“You okay?” Cheyenne asked as they sat in the living room staring at each other while they waited for Aaron to join them.

“Fine,” she replied. “You?”

Her sister nodded, but they both watched the clock with frequent glances—then jumped to their feet when they finally heard Aaron’s knock.

“He’s here,” Presley breathed.

Cheyenne tightened the ties of a robe Presley had lent her. “Want me to answer it?”

“Actually...I think it would be better if he didn’t have to see you. You might want to wait in the bedroom.”

Her sister didn’t have to be asked twice. As she hurried down the hall, Presley hauled in a deep breath and opened the door. “Hi.”

Aaron inclined his head but didn’t answer. Although she’d left the porch light off, in case someone saw him arrive, she could tell by the set of his jaw, and the stiffness of his bearing, that he was as tense and nervous as they were.

“Would you like a drink or...or something first?” she asked as he came in.

“No.”

He wasn’t carrying anything. She’d thought he might bring a
Playboy
or some other magazine to help get him excited. “You ready, then?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

She handed him the sterile cup he was supposed to use.

He accepted it without another word and went into the bathroom.

Presley had expected him to take maybe ten minutes. When it went past that, she began to wonder if he was having trouble. After twenty minutes, she slipped into the bedroom to wait with Cheyenne, who kept sending her worried glances. If Dylan woke during the night to find her gone, the gig would be up, and they all knew that.

“Do you think he’s having trouble?” Cheyenne whispered.

He
had
to be, or he would’ve emerged by now. But Presley didn’t want to add to the pressure they were all feeling. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

“Maybe he’s too upset or reluctant or—”

“His body works great. He’ll be fine.”

“This has as much to do with his head as his body. If his head’s not into it, we could be in trouble.”

Presley understood that, which was why she was fidgeting, too. “He didn’t bring any magazines,” she confided.

“Why not?”

“How should I know?”

“Should we get him some?”

That was a thought. “I guess I could offer to run to the store, but it could take a long time to find a place that’s open and far enough away that I’d be anonymous,” Presley said. Still, she was about to go knock when she heard the bathroom door open. “There he is.”

She rushed out to meet him and almost asked how it had gone, but the expression on his face told her he wasn’t in a good mood. He simply handed her the cup and left without even peeking in at Wyatt.

Presley wanted to go after him, to soothe him. Giving Cheyenne and Dylan the chance to have a baby was so generous. She didn’t want him to feel bad about it. But Cheyenne was waiting in the bedroom and nervous about being out of her house for so long.

Besides, Presley figured they’d have a better chance of conception if they used Aaron’s sperm while it was fresh.

Trying to forget about Aaron and the jumble of feelings he always evoked, she carried his sperm into the bedroom.

Her sister’s eyes flicked to the cup, then to Presley. “He okay? I heard the door close.”

“He already left.”

She sighed. “That’s probably just as well. I’m sure he doesn’t want any part of what we’re going to do next.”

Presley was a little grossed out herself. She was using the sperm of the man she loved to impregnate her sister. That was difficult to start with. But she was doing it for the best of reasons. And she was trying to keep the mechanics in perspective, too. This was a medical procedure, nothing more than what was done in fertility clinics across the country. It just felt strange that it would be happening in her house—and that she would be playing the role of doctor or nurse.

“All set?” she asked.

Cheyenne gave her a tortured look. “This is awkward, isn’t it?”

“Definitely. Reminds me of when you were fourteen, and I had to teach you how to insert a tampon.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

“We’re sisters. We do these kinds of things for each other.”

“I wish our roles were reversed.”

“
I’m
glad they’re not!” Presley drew up the sperm in the syringe. “Let’s get it over with.”

Cheyenne squeezed her eyes shut for a second, as if she was praying for the nerve to go through with it. Then she removed her robe and climbed on the bed, situating the pillows under her hips as the literature suggested.

* * *

Aaron didn’t text or call to see how the procedure went. Presley didn’t hear from him for the next several days. Cheyenne told her she’d texted him a thank-you, but received no reply. He didn’t even come over to see Wyatt that week. Presley was beginning to wonder if he was going to ignore them both until he left for Reno. But she woke up early the following weekend to find him in her yard, fixing the fence.

“What are you doing?” she asked as she stood in the doorway, squinting out at the source of the noise that had awakened her.

He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t answer.

“Aaron?” she prodded.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked.

“It looks like you’re repairing my fence.”

“You’ve been wanting this done for a while, haven’t you?”

But she hadn’t asked
him
to do it. She hadn’t mentioned it since the night she saw him at Ted Dixon’s book signing nearly two months ago. The fence was something she’d been meaning to take care of when she had the money to hire Riley or someone else. She hadn’t tackled it herself because she knew she wouldn’t be capable of digging out the large chunk of concrete that supported the broken post. “I didn’t expect
you
to do it. It’s not your responsibility.”

He didn’t look back at her again. He was too busy wielding that shovel, which made a terrible scraping sound every time he pushed it into the ground. “You’re the mother of my child, aren’t you? And Wyatt lives here, too.”

She tightened her robe. Just seeing Aaron, even when he was hot and sweaty, made her want to touch him. “I thought maybe you’d forgotten about Wyatt.”

“I haven’t forgotten about either of you.”

How was she supposed to take that? The way he said it didn’t sound as if he considered it a
good
thing.

“So I can count this as...part of your child support?” she asked uncertainly. They hadn’t agreed on a monthly amount. He’d spent so much on toys and furniture, all of which he’d offered to her. And when he’d been coming over regularly, he’d brought groceries and diapers. So Presley had let it go at that. As long as he was being thoughtful and generous, she didn’t feel they had to settle on a particular sum. She’d never wanted to become a financial burden to him, never wanted what they’d had to be reduced to a dollar figure.

“The paternity test came back yesterday,” he told her.

“And?”

“It was positive, of course. I have a check for you, too.”

She clenched her hands in the pockets of her robe. “I don’t want your money.”

“Now my money’s not good enough, either?”

“You can see Wyatt whenever you want. This isn’t how I imagined it would be when I came back.”

“I know. You weren’t even going to tell me about him. You wanted me out of your life completely. But you’re not going to get that. I have the right to see my son.”

“I said I’d never stop you. You don’t have to fix the fence or anything.”

“Shit.” He threw down the shovel. “I’m not arguing about Wyatt. I know you’ll let me see him.”

“Then what has you so mad?”

“What do I have to do to see
you?
”

“Don’t ask,” she said, but that didn’t put him off. He covered the ground between them in three long strides.

“You still care about me.” He stared down at her as if searching for some sign of it. “I know you do.”

She couldn’t deny that, especially when her eyes suddenly welled with tears.

“Stop shutting me out,”
he whispered.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “How will this time be any different?”

“I’ve got a month left in this town—one lousy month. Give me a chance, Pres. Give me that long. If we can’t establish what you want—if I’m...incapable of it, as you seem to think—I’ll move on and we’ll get through the breakup the best we can.”

“While arranging visitation for Wyatt.” She could only imagine how much more difficult that would make everything.

“Of course. Divorced people do it all the time.”

“But we already know—”

“We know nothing,” he interrupted. “Maybe I can’t say I love you. Maybe I’ll never be able to say it. But I can tell you this. These days you’re all I think about—you and Wyatt.”

Would that be enough? Or was she being tempted into making another painful mistake?

History would certainly weigh against him. Cheyenne and Dylan would probably discreetly do the same. But her heart begged her to soften, regardless of the risk. What if there was a remote chance that they could actually become a family?

It was too good to be true. Presley couldn’t count on this—but then he kissed her, and she was lost. She didn’t care about the sweat or the dirt that clung to him—or even that they were standing in her front yard for anyone to see. She wanted to kiss him back, to get as close to him as she possibly could. Despite all her efforts to escape the hold he had on her,
nothing
had changed.

“I’ll paint your porch, too,” he promised her. “And buy you jewelry, if you want jewelry.”

Consolation prizes, she thought—gifts to replace the commitment he couldn’t quite give her. But he was trying so hard to make his offer appealing that she melted all the same. She was even tempted to tell him that she loved him enough for both of them. Those words sat on her tongue, but she choked them back. What was wrong with her? She couldn’t be
that
stupid. She’d give him the month. But she wouldn’t let her hopes soar too high, and she certainly wouldn’t smother him with protestations of love.

“Okay,” she said, and went in to get Wyatt, who was awake and calling for her.

* * *

When Cheyenne felt her husband’s hands on her body, she struggled to cast off the last vestiges of sleep. If she didn’t, Dylan would get up and head to work. He usually left early.

“Hey,” he whispered when she opened her eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asked, but it was obvious. He’d lifted her nightgown and was kissing her belly. He anticipated the baby, relishing the knowledge that she was pregnant—and she prayed she was. It’d been a week since they’d performed the artificial insemination, but she didn’t know if it had worked. She’d been trying to give her body time to produce the hCG she hoped would show up in her next pregnancy test.

“Wishing our child would grow faster,” he said.

“It’ll take several months for me to show.”

“I can’t wait to feel him or her moving inside you.”

“You’re already afraid to make love to me for fear you’ll hurt the baby. Is that going to get worse?” she teased.

“I can’t resist you for long.” He kissed her as he slipped his hand between her legs, and she closed her eyes.

“I’d like to stay in bed with you all day,” she told him. “Tell me you can take the time off work.”

He kissed her neck. “Sorry, babe.”

“But you’re the boss.”

“I’d love to stay home, but Aaron asked for the day off, and we can’t both be gone.”

“You said yes?” She infused her voice with sufficient disappointment.

“I couldn’t say no. He put in twice as many hours as the rest of us this past week. He was there when I left at night–he was there when I arrived in the morning. I almost wonder if he ever went home.”

“Why would he be working that hard?”

“He said he wanted to get us caught up before moving to Reno.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“Except I don’t think that’s all there is to it.”

“What more could there be?”

He didn’t answer right away. He was too distracted by what he was doing to her breasts.

“Dyl?”

“Something’s bothering him.”

She felt a twinge of guilt as she wondered if it was the artificial insemination. Aaron had never responded to her thank-you text. He hadn’t called to see if the insemination had worked, either. She hadn’t heard from him at all, and Presley said the same. “Like...”

“Who knows? It could be that Dad’s getting out of prison soon. Or that Dad’s married to someone he’s spent very little time with, which is almost guaranteed to complicate our lives. It could also be the move. We’re all sad to see him go.”

She caught his face so he couldn’t keep kissing her. She wanted a second to concentrate on the conversation. “Even you?”

“Me probably more than anyone. He can be difficult. You know how determined he is when he makes up his mind about something. That’s frustrating if you’re the one in charge. But he’s also insanely talented, and someone I can absolutely rely on at the shop—now that he’s quit partying.”