Almost Just Friends (Wildstone #4)(44)

She set her head on his shoulder and pressed her hands to her belly. She was three and a half months along, and even with her hands holding her shirt tight to her, there was only a very slight curve to her stomach.

“I haven’t told Piper yet,” she said.

“Gee, I hadn’t noticed.”

“Cam wants me to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And Emmitt wants me to.”

He looked at her.

“And you want me to,” she said.

“Yes. I do.”

“No one’s ratted me out.”

“It’s your secret to tell, Win.”

“I know. I’m working my way up to it.”

The irony didn’t escape him. He was working his way up to certain things as well. “Sooner than later,” he said, eyeing her belly. “Or you won’t be telling. The Bean will announce her own arrival.”

Winnie rubbed her stomach. “You think it’s a girl? The doc said it’s hard to tell before twenty weeks.”

“I don’t care what it is as long as you and it stay healthy,” he said. “But yeah, I figure it’s a girl. Karma for your teenage years,” he teased.

She finally smiled, and he felt his own smile curve his mouth.

“We’re going to be okay, Win. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. But what about Piper?” She jerked her chin toward the window, and when he looked out, he saw Piper had set up lights and was painting the outside of the last cabin.

“You don’t think she’s okay?” he asked.

“Uh, hello, it’s midnight and she’s out there painting the cottages.”

Good point.

“I think we drove her insane, Gav. Actually, I think we still do. She needs someone in her life.”

They watched Piper paint. She dipped her roller into the pan and lifted it high to reach the eaves. A few drops must have hit her because she swiped her arm over her face, which only smeared the paint.

“We should fix her up with someone,” Winnie said. “As a bonus, it’d distract her from us.”

“Think so?” Gavin asked doubtfully, eyeing Piper’s crazy hair, the paint-streaked face, her ancient, holey jeans, and the too big, long-sleeved T-shirt that read SORRY NOT SORRY across the front.

A shadow crossed the yard and Gavin rose before realizing who it was.

Cam. He said something to Piper, who tipped her head back and laughed.

Laughed.

His hard-ass sister rarely did that anymore.

“Huh,” Winnie said. “Maybe he can’t see too well.”

Cam ran a finger over Piper’s paint-covered jaw and said something else. Piper didn’t laugh this time. She bit her lower lip and stared at Cam’s mouth. And then . . .

“Shit.” Gavin shut his eyes. “They’re going to make out.”

“No, it’s even better.”

Gavin opened his eyes. Cam had taken his hands off Piper—thankfully—and now the man had the roller and was painting in long, smooth strokes. Piper had picked up a paintbrush and was working on the windowsill.

Winnie boggled. “Oh my God, do you think she somehow managed to find a guy all by herself?”

“They grow up so fast,” Gavin said, which made Winnie laugh.

“You do realize she’ll mess this up, which is why we have to help.”

“No. You’re not going to interfere.”

“But—”

“She’s okay,” Gavin said firmly.

Winnie didn’t look convinced. “She’s gonna need help.”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean she’ll thank you for it. You stay out of it.”

“Gavin.”

“Yeah?”

She looked worried again, but tossed him her keys. “Be careful?”

“Always.”

He headed into town, driving aimlessly for a while. He avoided the Whiskey River Bar and Grill. He was getting his life together, so why tempt fate?

It was one in the morning when he found himself in front of CJ’s house. Yes, he’d stalked his ex, figuring out which house was his thanks to a combination of Instagram and Gavin’s knowledge of every square inch of the county.

He wasn’t sure why he’d come here. Or why he got out of the car and stood on the front porch. It was stupid. It was beyond stupid really, especially when he heard footsteps come up behind him. He whipped around and froze.

CJ stood there, gun out. “Good way to get yourself killed.”

Just looking at the first and only love of his life was a gut punch. And a heart punch. And a soul punch . . .

God, he’d been so stupid. And wasted so much time. “Getting killed isn’t the plan,” he said mildly, even with his heart in his throat. “At least not tonight.”

CJ just shook his head as he shoved his gun into the waistband of his jeans, at the small of his back. The jeans were the only thing he wore, and the difference between the too-skinny eighteen-year-old CJ and the now ripped twenty-eight-year-old CJ was . . . eye-opening.

“So what was your plan?” his past asked, still looking pissed off.

Plan? Gavin had no idea. So he went with his first instinct. He yanked CJ close and kissed him, the man’s erotic growl of surprise spearing heat through Gavin’s entire body. His hands came up to slide into CJ’s hair, against his scalp, tugging him closer still, the kiss a haunting, almost forgotten combo of promise and connection.