Wicked Ever After Page 9

  After a quick trip to the toilet, she washed up, put on her coat to protect her from the sudden November chill, and tried not to think about Pierce.

  What danger had he been talking about?

  She turned off the lights and let herself out of the shop, securing the door behind her. Huddling into her coat, she bustled down the sidewalk, not surprised to see a few folks running from some shop along Napoleon Avenue to their cars, giving her a speculative side-eye.

  Brea put her head down and pretended not to notice.

  The wind caught her coat as she stepped into the Sundowner. The place was nothing to write home about. It was dark and dim, decorated with dartboards, beer signs, and a lot of men still carrying the sweat from their day’s work.

  Rayleigh waved at her from a table in a quiet corner. Brea headed her way.

  They weren’t exactly friends. The salon owner wasn’t old enough to be her mother…but it was close.

  Her boss had grown up in Sunset, but moved away when she’d quit college to say I do. Three years later, she’d decided that she didn’t after all since her husband spent more time with his “work wife” than his legal one. So she’d moved back home and taken over the salon when her mother retired.

  After slipping out of her coat, Brea eased into the chair. A glass of white wine sat waiting in front of her. “What’s this for?”

  “Besides a friend, you looked like you could use a drink, too.”

  “Thanks, but I’m okay.”

  “You’re not, honey. A nip or two after the day you’ve had will make everything a little easier to bear.”

  She shook her head. “I-it’s very sweet of you, but I have to drive to Lafayette.”

  “So we’ll stay here for a bit. One glass won’t hurt.”

  Brea searched for another excuse to decline the drink. “Well, I…um, have this headache—”

  “No, you don’t.” Rayleigh slanted her a shrewd glance. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  Brea froze, panic biting at her. “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, you’ve been sick more than usual. I chalked it up to stress since you’ve been through a lot with your daddy the last few months. Your sudden engagement surprised me because I didn’t think you were in love with Cutter, but I was willing to give you the benefit of the doubt and believe y’all were just private about your feelings. But I get it now; he’s giving you his name. That man who demanded to see you today is your baby’s father.” The woman patted her hand. “It’s okay. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “Rayleigh…” How could she possibly refute her boss when she was right?

  “I know we’ve never been close, and you’ve clearly gone to great lengths to keep this secret. Your deer-in-the-headlights expression tells me you didn’t expect me to figure it out. But I know one thing. Whoever that tall, dark, dangerous hunk of man is, you love him.”

  Brea closed her eyes. If Rayleigh had seen that, who else had? “It’s complicated.”

  “It shouldn’t be that complicated. He loves you, too.”

  “I thought so, but…”

  “Listen, I’ve spent twenty years fixing hair, and I’m damn good at it. But there’s one thing I’m better at, and that’s reading people.” She leaned closer. “You don’t look pregnant now, but you will at some point. Even if you start wearing Cutter’s ring, that man is going to know he’s the one who got you pregnant, isn’t he?”

  She paled. Eventually, there would be no hiding it from anyone…especially Pierce.

  “And once he figures that out, do you really think he’s just going to give up? Walk away?”

  Brea hadn’t thought he’d care if she was pregnant—until today. “He said he wanted to take a step back. I thought it was over. I hadn’t seen him in a while. But…”

  “I’m guessing he made it clear pretty darn clear today that it’s not over.”

  And then some.

  She was so confused.

  “Until he showed up, I never imagined he’d even want to see me again. I thought Cutter and I would announce the baby shortly after we got married and…” Pierce would be long gone.

  “You’d planned to let the town gossip that you and Cutter had been fooling around and decided to get married once you were expecting?”

  “Yes.”

  Rayleigh shook her head. “I have a feeling you’re going to need another plan. When Mr. Studly realizes that’s his baby you’re having, he’s not gonna go away quietly, honey.”

  On the one hand, she didn’t see a single scenario in which the Pierce who had stormed into her salon today wasn’t as possessive about his child as he was about her. But he was also the same stranger who’d seemingly walked out and confessed to killing his own father.

  “I don’t know what he’ll do.”

  “Oh, I do. You’re kidding yourself if you think you’ve seen the last of him. Why don’t you tell him you’re pregnant, honey?”

  “I was going to the day he seemingly broke up with me.”

  “What about now?”

  She and Cutter had made all these plans and announced their engagement. What would the town think?

  Did any of that matter if she and Pierce could manage to work things out and he wanted a future with her? If she had to make a choice between appearances or happiness, she’d pick being ecstatic with Pierce every time.

  But to get to that place, there were so many ifs in their way… If he truly loved her and believed in the same kind of abiding devotion she did. If he wanted to be a father to their baby. If she could explain everything to Daddy without triggering his delicate heart. If Pierce would be willing to ask him for her hand.

  “I don’t know.” But she needed to tell Pierce about the baby. She owed him that much.

  “Well, I’m around if you need anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it, honey. Just be happy. I married the man I thought was ‘safe’ when I was young, and it turned into a disaster. The one who got away left for good…and I’m alone. I’m doing all right, but I look back and think about what might have been. And I wish I could do that summer over.” She sighed. “Don’t make my mistake.”

  Rayleigh made a good point. Hiding behind Cutter wasn’t fair to either of them, especially since he was in love with his starlet. He didn’t think it would work out, but for his sake, Brea prayed it would. He deserved to be happy. And weren’t they both entitled to a chance at a future with the person who held their heart?

  Yes.

  “Thanks. I’m going to do some thinking.” Brea needed a plan, and she’d rather not be scheming at home. After his date, her father would want to talk about town gossip, and she didn’t want anyone influencing her decisions. She needed to decide her next step alone.

  “Got someplace to go?”

  “I should.” She didn’t think Cutter would mind if she spent a night or two at his place, and the silence would do her good.

  “If it falls through or you need anything else, you have my number, honey.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Get a good night’s sleep.” Rayleigh clasped her hand across the table. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  One-Mile left Sunset in a really shitty mood. Brea wasn’t marrying Bryant, and he needed to figure out how to convince her to his way of thinking fast. That meant using his brain and asking the right questions.

  Mentally, he sifted through his options. They all sucked. As usual, he was on the outside. Yeah, his sparkling personality was probably to blame. He didn’t go out of his way to make friends, never had. SEALs like Hunter and Logan formed bonds as deep as brothers with their teammates. One-Mile had always worked alone and that hadn’t bothered him.

  Until now.

  As Led Zeppelin ground out “Kashmir” over his Jeep’s speakers, his phone rang. He hoped Brea wanted to talk…but he was half expecting Cutter, itching to cuss him out. Instead, he saw Zy’s name on his screen.

  “What’s up?
” The hesitation on the other end started to worry him. “Zy?”

  “Oh, fuck it. You free tonight?”

  “What do you need?”

  “I want to talk.” He sighed. “About Trees.”

  Yeah, Zy probably wasn’t happy that he’d accused his BFF of being a backstabber. “What’s there to say?”

  “I want to go over the evidence.”

  “All right. When and where?”

  Zy rattled off the name of a sports bar downtown. “Can you meet me about nine?”

  Not exactly the way One-Mile wanted to spend a Friday night, but… “I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks.”

  Then the line went dead. One-Mile looked at the clock. He had two hours to kill. After grabbing a crusty sandwich at the deli near his house, he headed for his destination. The bosses had known about Cutter and Brea’s engagement before he had. It stood to reason they knew more than they were letting on. But Joaquin had never spoken much to him. And currently, Hunter wasn’t speaking to him at all. That left Logan, who wasn’t thrilled with him…but was least likely to slam the door in his face.

  When he rang the bell, he heard a commotion inside. A kid was crying. A woman’s high-pitched exasperation cut through it. A man mumbled something as footsteps stomped toward the door.

  A smile crept across One-Mile’s face. Sometimes, he had trouble reconciling that fierce, brash Logan was a devoted husband to his high-school sweetheart and father of twin girls. His house must be loud and chaotic and nonstop responsibility.

  But it wasn’t Logan who yanked the door open. Instead, Caleb greeted him, one of his granddaughters cradled in a beefy arm.

  “Sir. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Hi, Walker. You’re actually coming at a good time. Here.” He thrust the child into his arms. “See if you can get Macy in her high chair. I’ve got to round up Mandy.”

  Before he could object, the colonel turned away to chase another little one shrieking across the living room.

  One-Mile peered down at the cherubic face of the girl in his arms. Her wide blue eyes, just like her father’s, looked as startled as he felt. The swish of dark curls, her tiny button nose, and baby-powder scent made her seem so innocent. But the pout on her little mouth said trouble was brewing.

  Sure enough, she belted out an ear-splitting wail and tried to lurch out of his arms.

  He held her firmly and raced her to the kitchen. “Look, cutie, we’re stuck with each other for a few minutes. Why don’t you sit down and chill?”

  But when he tried to maneuver her into her high chair, the little hellion bowed her back, kicked her legs, and howled like she was on fire.

  One-Mile shook his head. “I see you have your daddy’s temper.”

  Caleb entered with a laugh, holding another screaming bundle. “You have no idea. And she’s the easy one. Mandy here is the real troublemaker. Aren’t you, baby girl?”

  She paused to grin at her grandfather and flash a pair of dimples, as if she liked the idea of being a rabble-rouser from hell. Macy watched. And when Caleb cooed at her, she mimicked her sister’s angelic expression. Well, if he didn’t count her crazy eyes.

  Logan was going to hate his life in about fifteen years. One-Mile almost felt sorry for the bastard.

  The colonel took advantage of that moment to put Mandy in her high chair and shove a cracker in her hand. One-Mile managed to do the same with Macy as the other man slammed a sippy cup full of water on each tray.

  Finally, other than the sounds of babies munching and slurping, silence reigned.

  Caleb sagged against the nearby kitchen counter. “Tonight reminds me why having babies is a young man’s game.”

  One-Mile couldn’t hold in a laugh. “You a little ragged, Grandpa?”

  The colonel leveled him a quelling glare. “Well, this old man has two words for you. They start with an F and a you.”

  That only made him laugh harder. “You babysitting tonight so Logan and Tara could go out?”

  That would suck…but that’s the way his luck was running these days.

  “No. If I’d willingly signed up for that insanity, I would have come prepared. This was a last-minute emergency.” Caleb grabbed a couple of jars of baby food from the cabinet and a pair of tiny spoons from a drawer before swiping two bibs off the counter. “Logan thought it would be a great idea to test out the Razor scooter he bought—strictly for Tyler Murphy’s boys, of course.” His accompanying eye roll called bullshit on Logan’s claim. “Did I mention there are three of them, all under the age of five?”

  That made One-Mile grin. “So you’re saying they didn’t need one, and Logan took it out for a spin himself?”

  “Yep.” Caleb opened a jar of sweet potatoes and shoved it in his hand, along with a little spoon. “So about ten minutes later, Tara had to take him to the ER. He’s got a broken finger, a sprained knee, and he’s waiting for stitches.” The older man bent to Mandy. “Sometimes I wonder about your daddy, princess. I think war scrambled his brains.”

  The little girl giggled and shrieked in happiness, flashing her dimples again. Her twin’s expression was identical.

  “Did Carlotta come with you?”

  He nodded. “She’s in the girls’ room, trying to clean up the Chernobyl-like disaster of toys they made in three minutes flat. When my kids were young, I wasn’t home a lot, so I missed most of this day-to-day craziness. When I was around, I’d take the boys outside with a ball and chase them to exhaustion. Kimber…” He shook his head. “She always wanted to have fashion shows and paint my nails—at least until the boys teased the girliness out of her. But I never knew how to entertain her, so I can only imagine these two are going to keep Logan on his toes for a couple of decades. Isn’t that right, princesses?” he asked them with a big smile.

  Clearly, the colonel loved his granddaughters.

  “Hey, see if you can get Macy to eat, would you?” The older man shoved a jar of food in his hands.

  One-Mile froze. “Sir, I don’t… I’ve never fed a—”

  “Baby? It’s not rocket science. Put food on half the spoon and see if she’ll eat it. Be prepared to wipe her mouth. Dodge if she starts spitting.”

  Those instructions weren’t exactly comforting. He stared between the baby and the pureed sweet potatoes in his grip. Oh, fuck. He was going to suck at this.

  But surprisingly, he didn’t. Most of the jar, ten minutes, and a messy face later, Macy started to fuss when he tried to feed her another bite.

  “She’s done,” Caleb said. “I think they both are. Thanks for the hand.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  The colonel wiped off their sweet little faces and set them free to roam the house again, then turned to him. “I’m guessing you didn’t come here for a crash course in parenting.”

  His mouth twitched. “No, sir.”

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  As much as One-Mile liked the colonel and respected his opinion, it was doubtful he knew anything about Cutter and Brea’s engagement. “Not unless you can explain a woman.”

  “No. God, I hope you weren’t coming to Logan for advice.”

  “Information.”

  “Ah, well, I can’t give you that, but it took me thirty years and two wives to learn the only skill that’s saved my ass: listening. It sucks, but it’s effective.”

  One-Mile sighed. “Yeah, I’d listen if she’d talk to me.”

  “Even in her silence, she’s telling you something. You’ve just got to stop talking long enough to hear it.”

  With that bit of advice pinging through his brain, he shook the colonel’s hand and headed to the sports bar Zy had suggested. Since he’d arrived a few minutes early, he grabbed a brew and waited.

  The place was dark and narrow and decorated with tacky light fixtures emblazoned with beer brands’ logos. A neon sign led patrons to the bathrooms with a bright yellow 2 pee. The place was filled with hipsters of all ages, but way more men than wo
men. TVs lined every wall, playing all kinds of programs—everything from high school football games to tabloid entertainment shows.

  One-Mile tuned them all out and ordered a Stella. When the bartender slid it across the scarred countertop, he paid, then took a long pull and started thinking.

  Why would Brea suddenly decide to marry a man she claimed to love but wasn’t hot for? And why would she choose the safe option when he was standing right in front of her? Yeah, he wasn’t perfect. And if he had a do-over, he wouldn’t charge into the salon like a fidiot and make the even stupider mistake of letting her crawl under his skin so much that he forgot to ask the most important question about her engagement.

  Why?

  So what had she said in her silence? She’d admitted she’d been hurt when he’d walked out that awful fucking morning he’d returned from St. Louis, but she hadn’t said yes to Cutter then. Which meant she hadn’t agreed to become the Boy Scout’s fiancée simply out of spite. And One-Mile figured she hadn’t done it merely to make him jealous…though he was. He knew it couldn’t be for the sex. The two of them hadn’t been having it a few weeks back. With Bryant out of town, they couldn’t be having it now, despite the fact they were engaged. Even though she said she loved Cutter—which chapped his ass—he wasn’t convinced she was in love with the guy. If she was, wouldn’t she have agreed to marry the asshole long ago? Yeah, and she would never have fallen into his own bed once, much less again and again.

  So Brea had a reason for this sudden engagement he just wasn’t seeing.

  Cage had mentioned his brother mopping up the “mess” he had supposedly made. The big cop hadn’t been talking about her reputation, since he’d apparently just ruined that today. So what the hell had Cage meant?

  One-Mile turned the question over in his brain for a few minutes while absently staring at the overhead TV. But he could only think of one.

  Brea was pregnant.

  “Hey, man.”

  A slap on the back had him spinning around to find Zy sliding onto the stool beside him and motioning the bartender for a brew.

  One-Mile felt too frozen to nod back.

  Had he actually fucking knocked Brea up?