Ten and a half steps until I made it inside. No big deal, right? Except I was twenty-three, afraid of the dark, and not ashamed to admit it.

As soon as I stepped out of my car, I saw it.

It was lying there, shining, teasing, mocking me. On top of Jeremy’s car was the sixty-watt bulb that would usually be twisted into the ceiling light. Instead, someone had unscrewed it and put it on top of his car.

Someone had unscrewed the light bulb, waiting for me to come home into the darkness.

Oh. My. God.

Movement flickered in the corner of my eye. Even as I glanced over, my chest ballooned. In the far corner of the garage, a figure cloaked in black loomed ominously. As my eyes scanned up his body, a scream bubbled up in my throat. The face was covered in a mask, an exact replica of the one from the movie Scream. That Ghostface guy. The perpetrator raised his arm, and that was all I needed to turn on my heel and run.

Down the driveway.

Across the sidewalk.

Just as I was about to race up the neighbor’s lawn, strong arms wrapped around my waist, hauling me back.

I screamed bloody freaking murder.

Oh. My. God.

I was about to be stabbed to death like the usual stupid blonde in all of those horror films. I was going to be the Drew Barrymore, except I hadn’t even gotten the foreplay of a phone call.

Then a hand clamped over my mouth.

“Shh,” my assailant said. “It’s me.”

My body instantly relaxed, yet my heart was still beating wildly. I was in a daze as “Me” led me back to the house, and even when we got inside, I couldn’t look at him. I was too freaked out. Too pissed. Too worried I’d laugh if I saw his stupid grin.

Instead, when he twirled me around and gave me a cocky grin, my hand struck its mark, slapping hard, the sound echoing around us.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” he shouted.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” I echoed, tightening one hand into a fist that I shook at him. The other was on my racing heart, trying to catch the breath I’d lost with my screams. “What the hell was that, Jeremy?! You scared the shit out of me. How could you do that?!”

“I thought it was funny,” he said, struggling not to laugh.

“Funny?! I almost pissed my pants! I almost had a heart attack! I almost woke our neighbors up in the middle of the night because I thought a psycho was trying to kill me! How the hell is that funny?!”

His eyes softened at my rant, but his damn shoulders were still trembling from his silent laughter. What. An. Ass.

“I didn’t expect you to freak out like that. I figured it’d be a small scare, but you’d know it was me.”

“You figured wrong. You owe me at least a bottle of wine tonight, mister!”

I was still shaking as he led me to the kitchen. I was still shaking when he poured me an oversized glass of wine. I was still shaking after I’d downed two of them. I was still shaking when he pulled me into his arms, whispered he was sorry, promised emphatically he would never do it again, and then carried me into our bathroom, where he proceeded to set me down in the shower.

He slowly washed my hair, caressing my scalp, giving me the most amazing massage that finally, finally, helped calm my nerves.

And all the anger faded away when he dried me with a towel, rubbed me up with lotion, and led me to bed. I should’ve shut him out. But I couldn’t. Not when he started at the balls of my feet, massaging every inch of my body until I was a puddle of goo. His hushed whispers of love as he spread my legs apart and slowly sank into me were all I needed to forget what he’d just done.

Our lovemaking that night was slow and sweet, and it set off a chain of events that would change my life forever.

I would never forget the night Jeremy scared the life out of me. Because he also gave me something that night that I would hold dear for the rest of my days.

Weeks had passed since the night I scared Sierra, and surprisingly, I wasn’t stuck in the doghouse. God, I was a lucky man. We’d been married for two years—two blissful, amazing years. Sure, we had our arguments, but for the most part, life was good. I was considered a rising star at the real estate agency, and Sierra was loving her job. We spent our days working hard and our nights living, loving, and laughing. And, of course, making love—which, of course, was on my mind that Friday night as I headed home from work. I’d just gotten a raise, and I was ready to celebrate. Sierra could put on that little, sexy, black dress, we’d go for dinner and drinks, and then I’d get to take her out of it.

A great Friday night to me.

“Jeremy!” Sierra’s shriek echoed through the house as soon as I entered through the garage.

I loosened my tie and smiled. I knew what she was doing. She’d been doing it for weeks. She was trying to get back at me for the prank I’d pulled even though we both knew I would always reign supreme on that one.

I mean, seriously? She had run screaming through the neighborhood. It. Was. Awesome. Not that I’d ever tell her that.

Ty couldn’t believe I still had balls, and Lexi had threatened to take his if he ever thought of doing anything similar, but I’d smiled at the memory of how well I’d helped Sierra relax afterwards. Who knew scaring the shit out of her would have been such good foreplay?

“Jeremy!”

This one was more frantic than before, and just as I was about to play along, she came sliding into the kitchen wearing nothing but socks and a T-shirt. She threw something at me, and before I could duck, it hit me straight on the forehead then clattered to the floor. I frowned.

“What in the world?” I muttered, and then she started gesturing wildly.

I watched in rapt fascination as she pointed at herself and then at me. Then she moved her finger back and forth between the two of us.

“You and me?” I asked, and she nodded enthusiastically.

Then she took her thumb and forefinger and made an O, sticking her other forefinger through it. You know. The juvenile symbol for sex. This piqued my interested, and I started unbuttoning my pants. She shook her head and huffed. Then she pointed at her belly, circling her finger.

That’s when it dawned on me.

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Once again, Sierra nodded.

“Sierra! Fucking words!”

“We’re having a baby!” she squealed in such a quick rush I almost missed it.

“We’re having a baby,” I repeated, and she nodded again, beaming.

She launched herself into my arms, and I stumbled slightly as she wrapped her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck. I gazed up into her eyes, completely in awe.

“We’re having a baby,” I whispered.

She leaned down to kiss me. “Are you happy?” she asked, and I wasted no time carrying her down the hall and plopping her down on the bed.

“Happy? No, baby, I’m fucking ecstatic.” My hand cupped her cheek. “You just made the happiest man in the world.”

It was true. I’d always known I wanted to be a dad, and there was no question that Sierra and I would eventually start a family. But I never expected the sudden rush of joy that filled my heart as soon as I heard I was going to be a dad. I was like a kid waiting for his birthday, wanting the time to pass quickly, unable to stand the wait.

And I had a lot of waiting to do. But I didn’t fucking care. I was going to be a dad.

A dad.

Holy shit.

“So much so you’ll forget I just threw my pregnancy test at your head?” she asked sheepishly, snapping me out of my stunned trance.

“Is that what that was?” I asked as I peppered her jaw with kisses.