“Agreed,” he said, reaching out for her and pulling her tightly to him. “Only difference is, that last name is going to be Hunter.”
Shocked nearly speechless, it took Cass a moment to recover before she blurted, “Excuse me?”
“Welcome home, Mrs. Hunter.”
Eight
Jake’s belly clenched as soon as he said the words.
Hell, who could blame him? The last time he’d asked a woman to marry him, it had turned into a major disaster. Jake had vowed to never repeat that mistake. To keep to himself. To never risk letting someone get too close again.
Yet what choice did he have? His son was sleeping in the other room. He’d made a child and now it was time to do the right thing. Marry that child’s mother.
Even as he considered the situation, he reassured himself that this proposal wasn’t about love. He still wouldn’t be letting Cassie get under his skin. On his skin was something else. And that consideration eased the skittering panic in his brain. Sex with Cassie was amazing. Hadn’t he been missing it for nearly a year and a half? Marrying her would ensure that he could have her all the damn time and that was a huge plus.
Not to mention his son would be here on the ranch, where he belonged. Through the confused thoughts came one image, that of his little boy, racing across the ranch yard, with Boston at his heels. Damned if that didn’t bring a smile to his face. Until Cassie started talking again.
“Are you crazy?”
Not the reaction most men got with a proposal.
“No.”
“That’s it? Just ‘no’?”
She stared at him for a long minute or two, neither of them speaking as shadows crept from the corners of the room like thieves, stealing the last of the light.
Jake studied her in the dimness and felt more than his belly clench. His groin was hard and aching and everything in him yearned to hold her tighter, closer. Yeah, he wanted her. In spite of the anger over her keeping his son from him. In spite of everything, he wanted her. Would always want her. But damned if he’d admit that to her.
When she pulled free of his grasp, he let her go. Only so far, though.
“I’m not going to marry you, Jake.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and planted his feet wide apart in a “ready for a fight” stance. “Don’t see a way around it.”
“None of that cowboy-speak, either. Use full sentences.”
“Fine,” he said, moving in on her. “You want lots of words? Here are a few for you. You kept my son from me. You kept his existence a secret. You think I’m just going to say thanks for dropping by so I could get a look at him? Not a chance. That boy’s a Hunter and he stays here. Where he belongs.”
She blinked and shook her head. “He belongs with me.”
“There you go.” He waved one hand. “That’s why the marriage. He’s going to have a mother and a father.”
“I told you I didn’t want Luke to be the burden of honor that you picked up because it was the right thing to do,” she countered, moving in on him now, poking him dead center of the chest with the tip of her index finger to emphasize each word. “Well, I won’t be your duty, either. I know you don’t want a family and I’m not going to sign on to be your wife out of obligation. No thanks.”
Anger erupted. Not surprising since it had been there, deep inside him, bubbling, churning, demanding release, since she’d first walked into his house carrying that baby. Emotions he’d thought long buried were swimming to the surface, but he didn’t want to look at them now. There were too many of them and he was in no position to try to sort through every feeling that was knocking around his heart demanding to be recognized.
He couldn’t let the anger or the emotions guide him right now. Instead, he grabbed for a single, slender thread of logic and clung to it.
His gaze fixed on hers, and he willed her to hear. To understand. “You say ‘duty’ like it’s a dirty word. It’s not. Duty means you accept responsibility for what you’ve done. It’s making a personal vow to do what’s right. What’s necessary. It’s an obligation to face what others can’t or won’t. Duty means something to me, Cassie, and I can’t change that. Even for you.”
“I don’t expect you to change,” she argued, looking up at him, her emotions churning in the fog of her eyes. “I’m not asking you to. Just as I’m not going to marry a man who thinks of me as an obligation.”