Sheltering His Desire Page 14

  Alyssia stifled a laugh when the other woman flipped her hair over her shoulder, and adjusted an invisible jacket. It was Mikki’s anchorwoman impersonation. She’d been sliding into it off and on for days.

  “So, we crucify the bastard.” Tate tapped out something on the screen in front of him.

  “You’ve got one more avenue.” Alyssia didn’t want to bring it up. Tate would hate the idea. But she still felt like Thompson deserved a chance. His kid didn’t. That sadistic fuck needed to pay, but just because his dad was delusional didn’t mean he should lose the things he’d worked for.

  “No, I really don’t.” Tate rubbed his eyes. “All right, fine. She’s out of town until Friday, though. I’ll talk to her then. She’s not going to listen. Especially when I tell her we don’t need Skriddie’s hardware anymore.”

  “I’m missing something,” Mikki said.

  “His mother has certain ins with Mr. Thompson,” Alyssia explained.

  “They’re fucking. Have been for years.” Tate made himself comfortable in a nearby chair.

  Mikki’s brows rose. “And I thought my family was dysfunctional.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Alyssia frowned at the resignation in Tate’s voice. The entire evening of conversations was just one bad reminder after another. A nudge, asking if she and Tate knew what they were doing. Or worse, reminding her this may be far more temporary than she’d like. She didn’t want to think that way, but every time she banished the insistent voice in the back of her head, it pecked at her resolve until it was free again.

  Chapter Twenty

  Alyssia stood in front of her bathroom mirror, stomach clenched in knots. Which was the entire reason she was doing this. To convince herself the nausea she felt on an almost daily basis was the stress of working so hard, and not something deeper. More… internal.

  Tate. His name twisted her insides further. She looked again at the piece of plastic in her hand, and the pink plus sign in the middle. Two weeks of bliss, and everything was going to fall apart again when she told him she was pregnant. He may have made the leap to committing to her, but she couldn’t imagine he was ready for a family. Not after all the protests he’d put up over the years.

  She might have thought it would be all right. Maybe it would be, and she was just overreacting. But after his conversation with Mikki the other day…

  She sank onto the toilet seat with a sigh. How was she going to break this to him?

  As if her thoughts had summoned him, her phone rang in the other room, and the familiar song she used as his ringtone drifted toward her. She shoved the pregnancy test deep into the trash, and jogged to answer. “Hey.”

  “Hey, gorgeous.” Tate’s smile carried over the line. “You sound out of breath. Are you okay?”

  Just questioning everything, from herself, to him, them. She shouldn’t doubt him. Things were going well, and she was just being paranoid. “My phone wasn’t in the same room as me. I had to track it down. What’s up?”

  “Are you free this afternoon?”

  It was her day off, but she was on call. “Until someone tells me otherwise.”

  “Have lunch with me at that little diner in Gwinnette?”

  The invitation eased her doubt. She was definitely being paranoid. “Absolutely. When?”

  “One thirty, hopefully. Marge Foster pushed my appointment back to noon.” If he was calling his mom by her full name, instead of Mother, that wasn’t a good sign. The full name treatment was reserved for when he was irritated with her, or trying to pretend they weren’t related. “I wonder sometimes if she wishes she’d had the mailman’s kid, instead of me.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Alyssia tried to keep her reassurance vague. “Say your bit, you know you’ll keep your head, and I’ll see you after.”

  “Good point. I love you, Lys.”

  The simple reminder helped calm her, but it didn’t completely erase her doubts. “I love you, too.”

  ****

  Tate sat in one of the waiting room chairs outside his mother’s office, doing his best not to check the time. It was almost twenty after twelve. The door never opened, but her assistant, Kat, finally looked up. “Ms. Foster will see you now. Sorry for the wait.”

  “It’s not a problem.” He gave her a warm smile, a retort surged in his throat, and he choked it back. It wasn’t Kat’s fault, and he was doing his best to keep his cool through this. He stepped into the smaller room, pleasant airs still painted on.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” Marge’s southern lilt was back. “Important people demanding my time.”

  “Of course.” He ignored the subtle implication he wasn’t part of that list. “Thanks for making room in your schedule. This won’t take long.”

  Her eyebrows twitched up, and she nodded to the chair across from her desk. “Then let’s talk business.”

  He made a point of closing the door before he took a seat. Keep calm, play it cool, don’t let her ruffle him. That was all he had to remember. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of a mutual associate, and haven’t been able to reach him. I’m hoping you can help me.”

  She muttered something that sounded like, “Of course you can’t.” Out loud, she said “Bless your heart. Give me their name, and I’ll see what I can do.”

  Time to tip his hand. “I need to get a message to Bryce Thompson.”

  Her eye twitched, and her mask slid back into place. “I’m sorry. I was under the impression this was a business meeting. I made room in my work schedule for this.”

  “It is business, Ms. Foster.” He leaned back in his chair, posture casual. “He’s impacted a critical Skriddie Bust Media project. One that’s estimated to increase our quarterly revenue by at least five percent, and that’s guaranteed to challenge our strongest competitors and give us a new foothold in the market. I’d like to speak with Mr. Thompson, and see what kind of an agreement we can reach. I think his taking the time to sit down with me would be in his best interests.”

  “Not yours?” Her lilting accent was gone, replaced with a hard edge.

  “This isn’t about me, it’s about the company, and Skriddie comes out on top either way. This is just a professional courtesy.”

  Her jaw clenched, and she leaned in. “It’s a clever game, Tate. And I’m not sure what you’re doing, but disguising your little friend’s problems as business isn’t going to cut it.”

  He stood. “I see. Then you won’t help me get a hold of Mr. Thompson.”

  “Why don’t you reach out to him yourself?”

  “I tried. I haven’t been able to connect with him.” The conversation was going almost exactly the way Tate had expected. Disappointment welled inside. It was naive of him to think she’d cooperate, but he’d still hoped. “I’d thought maybe if you were seeing him soon. Tonight, for dinner maybe, you could drop my name.”

  Her upper lip pulled into a sneer. “I will, as a matter of fact. I’ll pass your concerns to him, along with the opinion that my son is chasing a dream and living in a fantasy world.”

  The insult sliced under Tate’s skin, and he forced himself to ignore it. “I appreciate it. Thank you for your time.”

  He started to rise, and then paused, as if he’d remembered something. “One more thing. We’ve discovered Skriddie is in breach of contract for the hardware they rented to the new venture.”

  Her brows rose and her self-satisfaction vanished. “I doubt that.”

  “I did at first, too.” He slid her a folder. The paperwork inside was from Mikki—evidence that Marge had been responsible for throttling the crowdfunding sites’ bandwidth and server space, he assumed to make a point about…something? He knew other companies used negotiation tactics like that, but he hadn’t expected it from his own.

  “If there’s an issue, I’m sure we’ll resolve it.” Her snideness was gone, as was her pleasant tone. A mask had slid in, flat and expressionless.

  “That won’t be necessary. The contract has been vi
olated, and is being terminated. Notarized documents will arrive this afternoon.”

  She gave him a wicked smile, eyes narrowed. “You can’t bring this to life on your own. If you burn this bridge, your venture will fail.”

  He shrugged, not feeling nearly as casual as he was trying to look, and stood. “I’m not worried about it.”

  His hands shook as he strode from the office, irritation and satisfaction warring for control of his thoughts. It was true, she’d never stopped condescending while he was in there, but he hadn’t flinched, or sunk to the same level.

  Besides, he had a lunch date with a wonderful woman. The adrenaline racing through him ebbed as he headed toward his car. He’d be a little early, but he needed the drive and the fresh air to clear his head.

  When Lys pulled into the parking lot of the diner, almost an hour later, he’d replayed the conversation in his head to the point of exhaustion. He couldn’t think of a way to have handled that situation better, all things considered. But seeing Lys walking toward him, hair pulled into a loose bun, sway to her hips, erased the rambling thoughts. He met her halfway, pulled her close, and kissed her hard. She let out a tiny whimper, and leaned into him. God, he loved everything about kissing her. He intertwined his fingers with hers, and they headed toward the restaurant.

  “How’d it go?” she asked.

  “About like I expected.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Nah.” He’d had enough time to make his peace with it. “We knew it probably wasn’t going to happen. If Thompson is going to be an asshole about this, he can deal with the fallout. He never even considered you.”

  “I know. But…” She shook her head. “You’re right. His choice.”

  The hostess led them to a table outside, and he took the seat across from Lys. “It’s done and over. Did you get up to anything interesting this morning?”

  She flipped the menu open and gave it her full attention. “Not really. Boring house stuff.”

  Doubt brushed his senses. She was just hungry. Not lying to him. “Like what?”

  “Hmm?” She glanced up, but never met his gaze. Whatever she was studying seemed to have stolen her interest. “Cleaning. Laundry.”

  He knew he wasn’t reading her wrong this time. She was keeping something from him. But what? Fuck. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She finally looked him in the eye, corners of her mouth turned down. “I’m just.” She pushed her menu aside. “I feel like this whole thing is going too well. There were so many road bumps to get to this point. And now it’s just smooth sailing? I guess I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  That was something he understood. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Maybe it will, maybe it won’t. We’ll make arrangements for the stuff we can predict, and deal with the rest of it if it happens.”

  “I guess.”

  “Lys.” He tugged her thumb. “We’ll make it work. That’s what we do, right?”

  “Of course.” Her expression relaxed. “You’re right. We’ll be fine. Are you coming over tonight?”

  Tate still felt like he was missing something, but she said it was just stress, and after his morning, he might be overreacting. “Of course. I'll be there after work.”

  ****

  “Lys.” Tate's voice drifted from the kitchen. “Are you sure you’re all right?

  The question filled her with an uneasiness she didn’t expect. She set her glass of ice water on the table, and looked in his direction. “Not unless you know something I don’t.”

  He wandered back into the living room, and held up an empty box. It was from her pregnancy test. Her gut sank. Why hadn’t she hidden that better instead of just leaving it on top of the trash? Or maybe she should have just owned up to it right away instead of trying to hide it.

  “So this was negative?” he asked.

  That wasn’t the way she wanted him to lead. “Would negative be better?” Not that she had planned for him finding out this way, but in a perfect, everything is going smoothly now world, he wouldn’t be wearing a scowl, and he’d have asked if it was positive.

  His mouth twisted in irritation. “Negative would justify the 'no there's nothing to tell you' response. I’m pretty sure positive is the kind of something you don’t just dismiss.”

  “So what would you prefer the result was?” Alyssia knew this was childish. Coming clean was her best option, but concern twisted her from the inside out. They hadn’t been together long enough for her to lose Tate.

  Wait. Lose him? The phrase gnawed at her. Why would she think that? It was true, they’d had some bumps, and they hadn’t officially been together for long, but even before they were a couple, he’d always been there. Since she was young, he looked out for her. And what he told Jared resonated so deeply with her. It wasn’t that she always called Tate first because he was the crush she never got over. She didn’t think his name first when the news was good or bad or even just mediocre because he was her brother’s buddy.

  He really was her best friend, and even though she’d only known about the baby for a few hours, if it had been any other news at all, she would have dialed him before anyone else, just to shout with joy and share.

  The words stuck in her throat, and she forced them out. “I do have something to tell you. My birth control failed. I’m pregnant.” It terrified her to say it out loud, but at the same time, it was comforting to have it off her chest. “I’m sorry.”

  The irritation vanished from. His face, replaced with a blank mask of nothing. “Sorry for… keeping this from me? For not trusting me with this information? For thinking… I don’t know. What were you thinking, Lys?”

  “I was scared. I think that’s fair. This isn’t something we planned for. We’re still new as us. I figured the 'do you want kids' conversation was at least a few months off.”

  “So was the plan to keep it to yourself until you thought we were in a good place for that talk?” His mask slipped, and hurt flitted across his features.

  “I haven’t even known for twelve hours. I’m still adjusting to the news, and you’ve always made it clear a family wasn’t in your future. I assumed that included kids.”

  “My views on my future have changed. Or did you think I was making up all everything I said about wanting you by my side? I’ve listened to and heard you, Lys. I know what you want out of life.”

  “But what do you want?” The question knocked a fear loose that she hadn’t been able to name before now. Tate spent so much time worrying about her. It was sweet, but it wasn’t a foundation for long term if he put his own needs aside.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Honestly, I haven’t thought about it. The one thing I do want is what you said before. To do this together, whatever this entails. I know Jared doesn’t believe me when I say that, and I’m sure he’s not the only one. You and I have a spotty history. But you’re the one who said we were doing this with each other; I thought you meant it.”

  Alyssia frowned. He was right. But even considering all that, “I’m still scared, Tate. And I’m still processing.”

  He drew his mouth into a thin line and leaned against the wall. “I get that. But…” He crossed the room, took her hand in his, and looked her in the eye. The test was positive, really?”

  She nodded.

  A smile cracked onto his face, and he squeezed her hand. “That’s amazing.”

  A huge cloud she hadn’t realized was haunting her lifted, and relief flooded her. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. This was going to be okay after all. She never should have doubted.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alyssia powered down her work computer, and gathered her purse. Going home before the sun set, instead of as it rose, she liked that. Besides, Tate was picking her up, and she liked that even more. He was already waiting in the lobby, chatting with Sara.

  The moment Alyssia stepped into the main room, his attention was on
her. Her cheeks flushed at the smile that spread across his face.

  “Don’t keep her up too late.” Sara warned. “She’s got an important eight a.m.”

  “I’ll do what I can. No promises.” Tate stepped closer, wrapped an arm around Alyssia’s waist and kissed her.

  She moaned against his mouth. Such an amazing feeling.

  Sara sighed. “So perfect,” she said. Alyssia looked up just in time to see Sara snap a picture with her phone.

  Alyssia held up a hand. “Delete that.”

  “Nope. Cutest couple of the year.”

  The front door slammed open, smashing into the far wall, the noise reverberating through the room. Alyssia spun, heart hammering at the abrupt interruption.

  Bryce Thompson Jr. stood in the front lobby, face contorted. His cheeks were red. His mouth was twisted in a sneer. “Give me back my fucking dog.”

  Tate stepped in his path, fists clenched, and advanced forward. “You need to leave.”

  Alyssia was aware of Sara grabbing the phone, and dialing. But most of her attention was on the scene in front of her. Her stomach flipped in on itself, adrenaline spiking.

  “Not until I have my dog.” Bryce stepped forward and Tate met him.

  Tate grabbed his arm, and pushed back. Bryce wrenched free, and let a fist fly, clipping Tate in the jaw.

  “Stop.” Alyssia looked for an opening. Something she could do to step in.

  “Yes, we have an intruder,” Sara told the person on the other end of the line. Alyssia assumed 911. “Violent. Assaulting a customer.”

  Tate growled, and dove his shoulder into Bryce’s chest. The teenager returned the favor with a direct punch to Tate’s gut. Tate grunted and doubled over.

  Alyssia looked around the room for something, anything she could use to stop this. Bryce advanced on her. “Give me back my fucking dog.”

  She retreated as he advanced. Her pulse hammered in her ears, drowning out the background noise.