Legend (Arizona Vengeance #3)(5)

Because tonight while we sat in that emergency room, I actually got to talk to Legend in a normal, nonconfrontational way. His concerns weren’t about his continuing feud with me, but about that tiny baby that is probably now going to be his responsibility. I guess it brought things into perspective and tonight he treated me like a close friend.

I helped him work through a lot of “what-if’s” while we waited. He confided in me that he was terrified at the prospect of being a father and it wasn’t something he had figured he would be doing for quite some time to come. However, he also took the responsibility seriously and he wasn’t in the mind frame of doubting Lida’s note. In his mind, that baby was his and he started planning for when the confirmation would come.

I don’t have kids of my own but I have a large extended family with some nieces and nephews, and cousins with kids. I’m no stranger to bitty babies or angsty teenagers. So I gave him my practical knowledge of what he’d need in the way of supplies. I even offered to help him get set up, and he said that was kind of me considering he’d been such a dick to me.

I hate he’s been thrown such a curveball in life, but I’m also glad he sees me as more than just an annoyingly flamboyant artsy type that’s not quite normal enough to be in his circle of peeps.

    Slowing my car, I don’t bother with a blinker since no one is behind me and I glide into my driveway. I open the garage, inch my way inside just past all the empty boxes that had stored my Christmas decorations and turn the ignition off.

Legend sighs into the gloom. I turn to look at him and find him staring right back at me.

“Got any liquor?” he asks. “Because I could use a drink. I have some at my house, but that’s farther away than your house.”

I try to ignore the feeling of euphoria that he wants to continue to hang out for a bit. “Bourbon, tequila, and vodka. What’s your poison?”

“Wonder what all three taste like together?” he drawls, his voice sounding as tired as he looks.

“It tastes like vomit,” I assure him. “If you combine all three, it tastes just like vomit.”

“Then I’ll take bourbon,” he says and opens the passenger door.

I lead us through the garage, past the laundry room on the left and into my kitchen. Legend looks around with interest, but his expression is neutral as he takes in my bright blue cabinets, hand-painted tiles behind the stove in vivid reds, blues, and greens and mismatched stools I’d found at a garage sale and refinished myself. My kitchen leads into my living room, which is also decorated brightly in primary colors.

I bet his interior decor is done in browns and cream colors.

Even though I have a built-in bar, I don’t drink enough to stock it with glasses and such. Instead, I keep a fifth of bourbon, vodka, and tequila in a kitchen cabinet next to my coffee cups.

    With bourbon in hand, I grab two mugs and ask if he wants ice. He declines and I pour a hefty shot for him and a tiny shot for me.

I hand him his drink and suggest, “Let’s sit in the living room.”

Legend follows me in there, taking note of the Scrabble board on the coffee table. “Sorry I ruined your Scrabble party.”

My responding laugh is enough to make him smile back at me. “You didn’t ruin it. I have them often enough that this one won’t be missed.”

“Scrabble’s a good game,” he says as he sits down on my couch. It’s covered in a navy denim material that’s super soft to the touch and the cushions are deep and plush. He slouches down into it, propping an ankle up on the opposite knee.

Staring down into the liquor, he says, “What a night, huh?”

I sit at the opposite end of the couch, kick my sandals off and pull my feet up underneath me. I tug the edges of my cotton skirt down for modesty. When I look over at Legend, I find him watching me like a hawk and it causes my skin to flush.

He holds his mug up. “A toast. To you. For being there for me on what is probably the most momentous night of my life.”

I don’t reply for a moment, but slowly raise my own cup. “To you. For handling this with a hell of a lot of grace and strength. Most people would be falling apart by now.”

Legend snorts before putting the mug to his mouth, and by the way he tilts it back deeply and his throat works, I know he swallowed the entire amount. He hisses through his teeth and pushes up off the couch, heading into the kitchen.

I watch silently as he grabs the bottle and heads back my way. He doesn’t sit but rather pours himself another shot while standing on the opposite side of my coffee table. He places the bottle down and takes another deep drink.

    When he looks at me, his eyes are swimming with emotion. “I can’t be a dad. I’m not ready.”

I don’t know if it’s true or not, so I tell him what he needs to hear. “Yes, you can and you are ready because you very well may have to be.”

Legend shakes his head. “I travel 50 percent of my work year, sometimes I’ll be gone as much as seven days straight. How the hell can I care for a child?”

“You get a nanny,” I tell him simply. “You can afford the best child care with what you make.”

“Okay,” he says as he starts to pace. He points his mug at me. “I’ll give you that. But what type of parent am I, traveling away from my kid for days and days at a time?”