Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(52)

When Alec stepped too close to her, I almost lost it. Gamble had to grab my arm because he must've known I was about to go ape-shit.

"Don't," he warned in my ear. "This is their fight, man. They obviously have issues to work out. If you get involved and break your parole, you'll land right back in jail."

Yeah, but if Eva was in trouble, parole was the last thing I'd be worried about.

I watched her face closely. She wasn't putting out any anxious or frightened vibes. She seemed to be used to arguing with him this way. But I hated how he grabbed her and moved in close. If Gamble hadn't yanked me back again, I would've intervened.

Why the hell hadn't I just intervened?





Chapter 12


EVA


I was going to see him again! Any minute now.

I'd been a flurry of anxiety all day. Ever since Reese told me Mason had invited Pick over to look at her new car, I hadn't been able to calm myself down. It was pathetic really. I should've been deciding what I was going to do with my life after Skylar was born, or looking for places to live, or researching parenting tips, or finding a job. Anything. Instead, my mind kept lobbing back to his tattooed arms, the one on his neck, and oh, I'd noticed one on his chest when all those horny women had ripped off his shirt in the bar.

God bless horny women.

Pick Ryan possessed one fine naked chest. Definitely a Jake Gyllenhaal lookalike, with a freaking nipple ring. His muscles had been packed into a set of wide shoulders and a tapered frame that led down to the slimmest waist ever. It had been impossible to contain the drool when he'd playfully scolded the women for undressing him during the auction. His smile, added to those pecs and his Mohawk plus the tattoos, had been too much to take. I'd melted into his arms the moment he'd forced that dance on me.

And his singing voice. Oh, my. The guy could actually carry a tune.

Humming "Baby Love" under my breath, I opened the door to Reese and Mason's garage. Since they lived in a split-level duplex, there were quite a few steps to climb down to reach the cement floor. I'd come out here in the guise of looking for a bag of frozen peas in the chest freezer that was kept in the garage, claiming peas sounded good to make with the meal I was cooking for supper. But in truth, I was watching for him.

He could be here any minute now.

Typical male Mason hadn't set any specific timetable with him. Being guys, they'd only said Saturday night. Well, there was a lot of time to cover during a single Saturday night. I needed to know exactly when he'd make it. I was going crazy without a precise countdown to wait by.

I don't know why I was craving him so much. It wasn't like getting a man was anywhere on my to-do list, plus he was the last kind of person I should choose—if I were on the market. And let's not forget he was married, which I seemed to keep forgetting, damn it. Besides, I had no idea what I'd say to him when he arrived, or . . . damn it, why was he taking so long?

"My baby love. I need you, oh, how I need you," I sang the words under my breath as I pulled up the freezer door. There wasn't much piled inside, so it wasn't hard to spot the peas. But it was impossible to reach them with my baby bump in the way. I tried turning so I could bend down sideways but didn't have any success with that either.

Not ready to give up, I tried the other side and was able to reach in a little farther until the tips of my fingers barely grazed the cold bag. Frozen air wafted up and coated my bare skin. The baby doll top I'd put on had thick straps but no sleeves, so the skin on my arms prickled instantly with goose bumps, which made my breasts bead from the chill.

I'd dressed for Pick. It was stupid, I know. I was seven and half months pregnant, not exactly the most glamorous time of my life. He was married—why I had to keep reminding myself of that was just plain scary. And we came from completely different worlds. My father would've stroked out if he'd ever seen me with a tatted-up, metal-faced guy like Pick.

Okay, so that would've been a plus—anything to kill off the old bastard—but even I hadn't been able to go that far. That type had always intimidated me, as if they were tough enough to chew me up and spit me out without a second glance, as if they saw me as nothing but a spoiled rich bitch.

But Pick had completely smothered my fears and reservation in that regard. He'd never intimidated me. And he'd never treated me as a spoiled, rich anything. He looked right past types, stigmas, and prejudices and made it easy for me to do the same.

He was still forbidden though. Having Reese paint my toenails for me earlier this evening because I could no longer reach them, just to impress him, was wrong.

Leaning into the freezer a little more this time, I pressed my belly against the opening of the lid, making Skylar jump at the pressure.

"Sorry, kiddo." I patted my belly, hoping I hadn't hurt her. Time to call on Reese for help with pea-from-freezer extraction.

"Holy shit, you got fat."

At the familiar voice, I whirled around and gasped. A chaotic buzzing filled my head as I stared at the sight before me. It didn't seem possible that my ex from Florida, nine hundred miles away, was standing in Mason and Reese's garage. But there he was, gaping in horror at my stomach.

I blinked twice. Then shook my head to deny it. "Oh my God," I finally found the air to gasp. "Alec? What're you doing here?" I looked behind him to make sure my parents or anyone else from home hadn't come with him, but he was alone, thank God. The last words we'd ever shouted at each other had been pretty final. I couldn't think up one more thing he'd need to say to me for closure. "How did you even find me?"