The Great Escape (Wynette, Texas #7)(125)

The front door opened, and there she was. His stomach jumped to his throat. Everything that had been murky to him was now crystal clear, but obviously not to her … Instead of inviting him in, she came outside, a black windbreaker tossed on over bright red pajamas printed with green bullfrogs.

The last people he wanted to face right now were her parents, so having this showdown outside was an unexpected gift. She’d shoved her bare feet into a pair of sneakers, and her hair was a beautiful, shiny light-brown rumpus. She wore no makeup, and a sleep-crease marked her cheek. She looked pretty, ordinary. Extraordinary.

She stopped between a pair of pillars at the top of three wide steps. He walked toward her along the brick sidewalk. “Who died?” she said, taking in his suit.

She had to know he wouldn’t show up at the home of the president of the United States in jeans and a T-shirt. “No time to change.”

She came down off the steps and into the crimson and yellow leaves scattered along the walk. Despite her small features and the frog pajamas, she didn’t look anything like a teenager. She was a fully grown woman—alluring, complicated, and angry, all of which scared the hell out of him.

She jutted her jaw at him as belligerently as a prizefighter. “There’s a big difference between having a vasectomy and planning to have a vasectomy.”

“What do you mean? I never said I’d already had one.”

She blew that off. “I’m not arguing with you about it.” She tromped onto the damp, leaf-covered grass, moving in the direction of a tree that looked like it could have sheltered Thomas Jefferson while he proofread the Declaration of Independence. “The fact is,” she said, “somewhere along the line one of your little buggers hit a home run, and now you’re going to be a father. What do you think about that?”

“I-I haven’t had time to think.”

“Well, I have, and I’ll tell you what’s not going to happen. I’m not pretending I went to a sperm bank, and I’m not getting rid of this baby.”

He was horrified. “You sure as hell aren’t.”

She went on, still highly pissed. “So what are you going to do about it? Crack up again?”

The way she belittled his past mental problems, as if they weren’t all that important, made him love her even more, if such a thing were possible.

“Well?” She tapped her foot in the wet grass, just as if she were his third-grade teacher. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

He swallowed. “Good job?”

He expected her to take a swing at him for that. Instead, she pursed her lips. “My parents are not going to be happy.”

Surely an understatement. He spoke carefully, fully aware that he was treading on dangerous territory. “What do you want me to do about this?”

She went supersonic. “That’s it! I’m done with you!”

She stomped back toward the house, and since he couldn’t manhandle a pregnant woman like he’d manhandle an unpregnant one, he cut around her. “I love you.”

The brat stopped in her tracks and sneered at him. “You care about me. Big difference.”

“That, too. But most of all, I love you.” His throat grew tight. “I’ve loved you from the moment I found you in that Texas alley.”

Those green-flecked eyes flew wide open. “That’s a lie.”

“It isn’t. I’m not saying I knew I loved you, but I felt something important right from the beginning.” He wanted to touch her—God, did he ever want to touch her—but he was afraid that would only make things worse. “Every moment we’ve been together, I fought to do the right thing. I can’t tell you how tired I am of that. And I think you love me, too. Am I wrong?”

This was the question that haunted him. What if he was wrong? What if she’d meant it when she’d said he’d only been a fling? His instincts told him otherwise, but he was all too aware of the power of self-delusion. He braced himself.

“So what?” Lucy had elevated sneering to an art form. “I thought I loved Ted Beaudine, and look how that turned out.”

He got so light-headed he could barely respond. “Yeah, but he was way too good for you. I’m not.”

“Okay, that’s true.”

He wanted to pick her up, dump her in his car, and drive off, but he doubted either she or her mother’s Secret Service detail would go for that. He dragged in some air and made himself say what he needed to. “Kristi found a counselor for me who’s a veteran. He’s seen combat. We hit it off right away. I won’t say everything’s perfect, but I will say he’s convinced me I’m saner than I thought.”

“He’s wrong,” Madam Sensitive declared. Still, he thought he detected a softening in those big brown eyes, although that might be wishful thinking.

“Tell me how you want to handle this mess,” he said, stopping just short of pleading. “You know I’ll marry you if that’s what you want. I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what you want.”

Any tenderness he’d imagined vanished, replaced by an icy hauteur. “You’re hopeless.” She stomped through the leaves and up the steps toward the front door. She didn’t slam it in his face, so he deduced he was supposed to follow her inside for more ass kicking.