into implacable lines. “What did it say?”
“It said—” Lizzie winced at the hitch that caught in her throat, but pressed on anyway. “The note said, ‘I’ll be a great daddy. You’ll see.’”
Ethan gritted his teeth, his jaw so tight it was a wonder it didn’t lock.
I’ll be a great daddy.
Taunting notes from a cowardly bastard, determined to scare Lizzie. Or worse.
Although he’d avoided police work like the plague, growing up with five of his siblings in various branches of law enforcement had given him a better sense of the criminal mind than the average person. Add on his upbringing and he could practically teach a damn class on the criminal mind.
But it was the “You’ll see” signing off the note that had him the most concerned. Escalating behavior that by her own assessment had grown worse over the past few months. And taunting notes that now accompanied a B&E.
He maintained his hold on her arms, but moved them both to the couch. “Why don’t we start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”
“I need to get something out of the way first.”
Those large green eyes remained steady on his, her spine arrow straight. Despite the fatigue that had dogged him since heading out to the barn the night before, something he couldn’t quite hold back sparked deep inside.
Damn, but she was a looker. And just as forthright and honest as she’d been when she was ten.
He could still picture those days. The sanctioned foster visits from the home he had been placed in to his kid sister, Josie, and the time he’d spent with her and her best friend, Lizzie. Josie had made it a point to include the gangly, awkward girl, whispering to Ethan that Lizzie had no one and he needed to be nice.
Not that he’d have ever been anything else. His father might have set a poor example, but his mother had drilled into him and his siblings the proper way to behave. And how to treat others.
Shaking off the ancient thoughts, he focused again on Lizzie. The gangly preteen had given way to an incredibly beautiful woman. She was tall—he’d estimate five-nine to his six-two—and slim. Refined. The child who’d delighted in mud pies and tree climbing had given way to an elegant young woman with a sophisticated tumble of soft brown curls that framed her face, ambition flaring high and bright in her gaze.
“Okay. What is it?”
“I didn’t do this—” She stared down at her stomach. “I didn’t get pregnant on purpose.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it?”
“Are you telling me the truth?”
“Of course.”
“Then okay.”
Ethan wasn’t a man who smiled often, but her puzzled expression nearly had him laughing. “I’m a straight talker, Lizzie. You know that.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?”
“I didn’t expect such easy acceptance. Not about this.”
A small voice kept beating against his skull that bringing a child into the world was a bad idea, but it was increasingly outshouted by the image of a tiny infant, snuggled warm and safe in her arms. His child.
Their child.
The panic he’d have expected at the news swarmed through his bloodstream but never seemed to land anywhere. Never seemed to settle.
Ethan wanted to be angry—hell, he expected that reaction—but no matter how he turned the raw play of emotions threatening to swamp him, he couldn’t quite manage to hang on to a single one.
Except need.
A sort of bone-deep desperation that simply cut a man off at the knees.
A strange reality settled over them, charging the quiet air with sparks of electricity.
Chemistry.
They’d had it, even as children. His sister needn’t have bothered with her admonishments to be nice and friendly. He’d always had a soft spot for Lizzie Conner. And long after the visits to see Josie at her foster home had stopped, he’d had fond memories of the endless, carefree days they’d played hide-and-seek and tag and dodgeball.
He hadn’t had many carefree days in his life, and he cherished the memories.
“I’ll figure out the acceptance part later. Right now, let’s focus on what’s happening. You’re having a baby. My baby.”
The fierce possession that fired his blood was even more surprising than the visions of a tiny infant wrapped in her arms.
He was going to be a father.
And despite the piss-poor example he’d been given, he would do everything in his power to do right by his child.
Lizzie’s gaze lifted to meet his once more, and something he couldn’t quite define lit up those verdant green depths. It was too soft to be anger, yet too mild to be anything near acceptance. “This is my child, and there is nothing I won’t do to protect him. Or her.”
“Likewise.”
“Good.” She laid her hands over her belly, and he wondered if she even realized the gesture of protection for what it was. The tightness in his gut ever since he saw the bump beneath her sweatshirt loosened another few degrees, and he latched on to something a bit easier to handle.
“You really don’t know if it’s a boy or girl?”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“But you’ve decorated?”
“A few things. Just some of the basics, really. The rest will come.”
The hands that had cradled her stomach settled in her lap, twisting over each other. That small show of nerves released another layer of tension, and he had to admit it had taken real courage for her to come to him this morning.
“I don’t want to rehash old territory, but you made it clear to me you didn’t want children. What’s changed your mind?”
Reality.
That lone word screamed through his mind, but he remembered their conversation, too, that night at the rodeo. His harsh implacability, even when she’d dared to suggest he’d make a wonderful father.
“I—” She hesitated before pressing on. “I understand your reasons, Ethan.”
He’d made it a personal policy never to talk about his father. And then he’d run into Lizzie, both of them attending the rodeo on lone tickets. He’d gone on impulse, the desire to escape roiling emotions he had no interest in feeling pushing him toward an evening of mindless entertainment.
And then he’d found her, standing at will call picking up a ticket she’d arranged earlier that afternoon.
Polite conversation and a shared tub of popcorn had given way to an evening together. The local stock association had made a night of it, adding a lit tent for dancing after the rodeo out in the large field adjacent to the event center. They’d talked and danced, the conversation flowing as easy as the beer.
Something had changed that night. Matthew Colton’s sins had always suffocated him, the emotional equivalent of a wool blanket in July, but that night he’d let some of it go. They’d talked, their shared history giving way to a sense of intimacy he rarely allowed himself.
He had shared with her his attitude on marriage and fatherhood. While he wasn’t averse to marriage, he knew children would be a natural expectation