Kade didn’t say anything to that, his eyes searching mine. I liked the song playing, had once listened to it all the time, but now it made me think of Kade, which just tore me to pieces.

I sighed, exhaustion overtaking me. It had been a long day.

“Why are you here?” I asked, passing a hand tiredly across my eyes. “What do you want?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and when I finally glanced up, he was frowning, his brows drawn sharply together.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “Why are you here? You’re supposed to be with Blane.”

If he’d said he wanted me to dye my hair purple and dance the hula, I couldn’t have been more surprised. My mouth hung open until I finally closed it with a snap.

“I’m what?” I hissed, feeling the anger rising inside me. Had I heard him correctly?

“You’re supposed to be with Blane,” he repeated.

“I’m supposed to be with Blane? Are you kidding me?” I was fuming now. Deciding I’d better do something else before I flew at Kade in a rage, I spun on my heel and started stacking chairs on tables. The morning crew did the sweeping, so the night crew just had to get things ready.

“No, I’m not kidding you,” he retorted. “Blane—”

I whirled, cutting him off. “If you say that again, so help me God, I’m going to throw this chair at your head.”

The idea that I might actually hurt Kade was laughable, but he shut up, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes narrowed.

I turned away and resumed my task. After a moment, I saw Kade in my peripheral vision, copying my movements and stacking chairs on tables. Sooner than it would have taken me to do alone, it was done.

The lights went out, leaving just the ones by the bar lit. I figured Danny must be about done in the kitchen. Sure enough, I’d just gone to get my purse from under the bar when he poked his head out.

“I’m finished back here!” he called. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Danny!” I hollered back. He went out the back way and locked up, while I took care of the front. Kade followed in silence.

I walked stiffly to my car, drawing from my energy reserves, which were dangerously low. Gravel crunched under our feet, ratcheting up the tension lodged between my shoulder blades. When I got to my car, I took a deep breath before I turned around to face him.

“Listen, Kade,” I said, “you made it damn clear that you want nothing to do with me, or the baby. So you should just leave. You’re pretty good at that.” And if my voice held more than a trace of bitterness, I thought it was my due.

Kade’s face was stark in the harsh light of the streetlamp in the lot. If I hadn’t known him and had happened to bump into him like this, I’d have turned and run in the opposite direction. The hard edge to him that had been so prominent when we’d first met was back with a vengeance, a malevolence that made a chill creep down my spine.

He took a step closer, but I stood my ground. I’d never let Kade intimidate me into backing down before, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to do it now. He was so close, I could feel the heat from his body, though we didn’t touch.

“I’m here to do something else I’m pretty good at,” he said roughly, the deep blue of his eyes seeming unfathomable.

I swallowed. Hard. I wasn’t proud of the images that flashed through my mind then or the way my body was exulting in how close he was. The slight breeze stirred, sending a waft of his scent my way. A shaft of pain flashed through me even as a shiver of arousal whispered across my skin. I bit my lip against the moan that wanted to crawl from my throat.

“And what’s that?” I managed to ask, my voice mortifyingly breathless.

“Keeping you alive.”

CHAPTER TEN

Kade followed me home, something I didn’t really have a choice in. I hadn’t asked what he’d meant by his reference to keeping me alive, and didn’t want to know. I’d had enough worrying about those who were intent on physically hurting me. At the moment, I was much more concerned about my emotional well-being.

The gravel road was long and dark, the beams from my headlights cutting through the blackness. I’d left my porch light on, though, so I didn’t have to find my way to the front door in the dark.

I didn’t look around when I unlocked the door. The crunch of Kade’s boots as he walked through the gravel made it impossible to miss his approach. My hands trembled and I had to fuss with the key more than usual before it finally turned in the lock.

I walked through the living room, pausing to flip on a light once I reached the kitchen. It was a country kitchen, homey with lots of light oak cabinets and trim, and I liked it a lot. I dropped my purse on the counter and went to the little laundry room down the short hallway that led to the garage to shuck my shoes. I took off my apron and socks, too, then tossed them into the washing machine for later. When I returned to the kitchen, I saw Kade taking everything in.

“It’s late and the motel’s at the other end of town,” I said stiffly. “You can sleep here for tonight, then go in the morning.” I’d shut off the upstairs vents to save on the AC bill—old habits die hard—but figured Kade could just open a window. Besides, it wasn’t that hot up there now that the nights were cool.

Kade didn’t say anything, the tension between us thick, so I just said, “C’mon.” Turning, I headed up the narrow staircase, the old wooden steps creaking beneath my feet. I heard pretty quickly when he started following me.

I led Kade to the smaller of the two bedrooms, grateful that I’d shut the door on the other one earlier in the day. There was a twin bed in this one that would work for the night.

“Here you go,” I said. “Bathroom’s across the hall. Night.” I turned to leave, but he caught my arm. Of course he did. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Where do you sleep?” he asked.

“My room’s downstairs,” I replied.

“Then I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I stared at him in confusion but was too tired to argue. “Whatever,” I said, pulling away and retreating back down the stairs. He followed me again, which was starting to make me feel like a pied piper, as I grabbed sheets and a blanket from the linen closet. I set them on a chair in the living room, then picked up a sheet to begin making up the couch.

“I’ll do it,” Kade said roughly, taking the sheet from me. “Go to bed. You look like you’re about to drop.”

“Gee, thanks,” I retorted, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. I was just too tired.

I showered because I couldn’t climb into bed with nine hours of french fries and beer aroma wafting from me, but it was a quick one. I resisted the urge to peek into the living room to see how Kade was settling in before I climbed into bed, though it was tough.

Only when I was at last in my T-shirt and curled under the blankets on my bed did I allow myself the pleasure and pain of thinking about Kade and how close he was, and of how I’d thought I’d never see him again—and how, after tomorrow, I likely never would.

I woke earlier than I’d intended, then found I couldn’t go back to sleep. My stomach was still queasy in the mornings, which made my trip to the bathroom more urgent now than before I’d gotten pregnant. Afterward, I brushed my teeth and washed my face. I brushed my hair until it gleamed, then pulled it up into a high ponytail. I’d planned on doing more painting today, so I dressed in an old, faded pair of cutoffs and an even older T-shirt. I abruptly realized that the shorts were too tight to fasten, right where the waistband went beneath my navel.

I lifted my shirt and turned sideways, studying my reflection. Yes, there was a small but definite bump that I hadn’t noticed before.

I stood there too long, a little awestruck, a lot afraid. Each day that passed seemed to increasingly bring home the reality that I was having a baby. It felt strange to be both excited and terrified. So far this hadn’t been at all what I’d pictured when I was younger and imagined having a child. I’d thought I’d be married, of course, and that my husband would be just as thrilled as I was. We’d paint the baby’s room together, argue over names, shop for tiny little baby clothes in tiny little sizes . . .