Her smile grew. “Unexpected? I’m not sure that’s how I would have put it. But I guess you’re right.”
Maybe it was being alone with him or having had the time to adjust to his presence. Whatever it was, Renata seemed like her old self. The Renata he’d taken to bed. Best to shut that line of thinking down. “I’d say that describes—” He stumbled to a stop. What was he going to say? Them? Their time together? Her? She was definitely unexpected. In the best—and worst—possible way. “My time in Stonewall Crossing so far.”
Her smile faded and her eyebrows arched high. “You have no idea.”
He waited. “Meaning?”
“Well... I—You...” She cleared her throat, turning her attention back to the contents of the refrigerator. “Are you hungry? Clara makes an amazing chicken pot pie.” She pulled a foil-wrapped dish out and placed it on the counter, her movements awkward and jerky. Renewed tension rolled off her as she pulled two plates from the cabinet.
“Sounds good.”
“Right. Coffee?” she asked, scooping a piece of pot pie onto each plate. “Or sweet tea? Water? Anything?”
“Water’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “We okay to talk in here?”
“Talk? Now?” She slammed the microwave with a surprising amount of force. “If you insist.”
He chuckled again. What had he said to get her all fired up again? Still, now that he’d suggested it, he didn’t know where to start. So he dove right in. “I’m guessing you didn’t tell anyone about...us—that night.”
“I did. The whole family—over breakfast the next morning.” She shot him a look. “Of course not. It’s no one’s business. Besides, it was one night. We’re adults. We can do what we want, without explanation.” Her eyes locked with his. “And that night was something we both wanted.”
He nodded, his throat tightening.
“And now?” She pressed her eyes shut. “My brothers wouldn’t be happy if they knew. And, since you’re going to be working with them—living here—it’s probably best if they never know. Don’t you think?” The microwave started to beep, making her jump. Her laugh was nervous.
He nodded, watching her. Brittle. Upset. Like something was right under the surface, about to break through.
“The thing is...” She drew in a deep breath. “If it does, I mean... Possibly. Come up...” She opened the microwave, pulled the plate out and offered it to him. “You’ll deny it?” Was she asking him? Or herself? She turned away, putting her plate in the microwave and watching it warm.
Ash stared at her. “Is that what you want me to do?” His personal life was his own, but he could never live a bald-faced lie. Was that what she was asking him to do? The longer she stared at the microwave, the whiter her face grew. She was scared to death. “Is my being here going to cause a problem?”
“I don’t think so,” she murmured, glancing at him.
Not comforting. He waited, hoping she’d say more. But she didn’t. And the longer she stayed silent, the more curious he became. Fisher’s comment about secrets popped up. “Seems to me your brother is on the way to figuring it out.”
“Won’t be too hard, soon enough,” she muttered.
He set the plate on the counter. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to tell me something?” Apprehension chewed on his gut. “You don’t want to, I get that.” He understood. Did he relish the idea of dealing with Fisher’s anger and disapproval? Hell no. But he wasn’t going to come between Renata and her family. If the last two years had taught him one thing, it was the importance of the family unit. It should be protected, treasured and nurtured. Always.
The look on her face was assessing—as if she was mulling over a problem and she was unsure of the solution. “I... I guess I’m going to just say it, okay?” She set her plate on the counter next to his and crossed her arms around her waist. But she didn’t say anything. She stood there, eyes fixed on the floor, shaking.
Anticipation seeped in deep, cold and hard. Whatever she was about to say wasn’t good. He’d had enough bad news to last a lifetime.
“I’m pregnant,” her voice wavered, “And... I mean... Well, it’s yours.” She hugged herself. “If—if you were wondering?” She rushed on. “But I’m not asking for anything. I’ll figure this out.”
He didn’t hear a word of what she said next. Roaring filled his ears. Crushing, thick weight squeezed the air from his lungs and had him leaning, heavily, against the counter.
This was too much. A joke. Pregnant? No. He was just figuring out this father thing with Curtis. And now?
Renata was pregnant with his baby. His brain was processing but his body had gone cold. Until, slowly, the anxiety and tightness of her voice reached him. Her words eventually seeped in and sort of made sense. What was she saying?
“So, you know. And we’ll just go on.” She poked her chicken pot pie. “No one needs to know—”
What the hell? She wasn’t serious. This changed everything. Everything. “Everyone will know.” He stared at her stomach, imaging her round. With his baby. Breathing was impossible. “You won’t be able to hide it for long. Besides, you’re close with your family.”
“I will figure this out,” her voice wavered.
She’d said that before.