“Good families do exist, right?” I posed the question to the universe. The universe didn’t answer, but it did make me nauseous. Maybe it was a sign.

“I’m sure they do,” Nate said. “Somewhere.”

“It’s just not fair. I barely survived my mother’s endless judgment during my childhood. Now I have to be voluntarily humiliated as an adult?”

“Can’t pick your family.” Nate leaned over his bar and passed me a basket of French fries fresh from the fryer. “But you can run far, far away from them.”

“If only.”

“Lindsey can’t chase you wearing heels.”

I snorted. “Yeah, except I’m the one breaking them in for her.”

“Tell me you aren’t serious.”

“I’ll show you the blisters.”

I dipped my French fry in the ranch dressing. Nate passed me a beer. I wished. I asked for water instead. He poured it into a frosted glass, and I dove into my fries.

Nate had a bad reputation. He was a womanizer, a commitment-phobic, a man who’d chase me to the ends of the earth just to steal my panties—but he whipped up the best ranch dressing I’d ever tasted.

I didn’t know how he did it, but my stomach soothed around him. I’d blame the pregnancy hormones. Just sitting with the father of my secret baby was relaxing enough that I could eat more than a single saltine and half a tangerine.

But the one person who made me feel halfway normal was the one person I couldn’t have feelings for.

Except Nate had whisked me away from home, delivered me to his bar, and served me a plate of salty and crispy French fries the instant I sat down.

For someone who claimed to screw ‘em and leave ‘em, Nate knew how to please a lady—besides the obvious oral sex, passionate fucking, and complete fulfillment of their physical needs.

I bit my lip. Not the thought I should have had in a crowded bar.

Arrogance attracted a lot of people. Nate knew half of the patrons by name, and the rest were casuals or newcomers who seemed to enjoy his brews and the classy atmosphere. Three men greeted him with handshakes and grins.

A couple of blondes tried to swoop in.

Nate stared only at me and stole a fry. I shouldn’t have smiled.

He sipped his drink and gestured to the multitude of beers on tap. “Sure I can’t get you anything? You need something stronger.”

I deflected like a pro. “I just had to get out of the house. The wedding turned into a zoo overnight, and I’m not allowed to tranq the bride.”

“Would make for a more entertaining reception.”

“More entertaining than what? The choreographed dancing? The ten ton cake? The musicians I’m supposed to audition next week?”

“Maybe?”

“We have a DJ and a string quartet, a five course dinner and dancing, two hundred and fifty people in attendance.” I nibbled my fry. “And let’s not forget the best part. Sandra and Conrad Prescott entertaining the guests by performing their latest hit act—Marital Grievances of the Past Thirty Years.”

Nate laughed. The deep rumble warmed me despite my best efforts to wallow in misery.

“I hate being caught in the middle,” I said. “The bull’s eye on my forehead won’t match my bridesmaid’s dress.”

“So shrug it off.”

“I can’t. This is too important. My family is falling apart. I’m trying to do anything I can to stop it.”

He frowned. “Sometimes there’s nothing you can do.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t want to give up.”

“But it isn’t your responsibility to mediate. That’s a horrible position to be in.”

My eyes prickled with tears. I’d much rather lose my lunch than my cool.

Crying wouldn’t solve anything, but the damn hormones made me seem even crazier than I was before. Nothing I did or said would ease the fear creeping around my heart.

“My parents were married for thirty years,” I said. “Thirty. They lived together. They raised a family. Mom stood by Dad while he built his advertising business. And now look at them.”

Nate nodded. “They are pretty damn explosive.”

“Today was just a firing range. You missed the nuke last week.”

“What happened then?”

“Dad stopped by to give Lindsey a check for her bouquet. He asked for a drink. I got him some water, and the glass’s condensation dripped on the table.”

Nate shrugged. I sighed. Maybe the trickle of water on my great-grandma’s antique end table meant more to Mom than normal people.

My family’s fights lacked foxholes, but that didn’t mean we weren’t digging shrapnel out of our butts every time Dad napalmed what good memories we had left with a careless water ring.

“I’ve never heard them fight like that before. I was in the room for the bombshell about every sexual incompatibility they ever had.” I pushed the fries away. Not even they could help block out that particular memory. “I know every repressed fantasy, Dad’s treatment for low testosterone, and one very bad experience with some sort of warming lubricant that, frankly, might turn me celibate.”

Nate smirked. “Don’t say that.”

“The PTSD is real.”

“Well, we absolutely can’t let celibacy happen. Tell you what…I’ll help you out. We’ll experiment with all the warming lube you want, baby. We’ll get through this together.”

“My hero.”

“Gotta help a damsel in distress. Closing those legs? That’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.”

I was pretty sure opening them was the biggest mistake I’d made to date.

I don’t know what was worse—getting pregnant…or staring into the beautiful green eyes of the father-to-be that had no idea how much his life was going to change.

I never expected Nate Kensington to actually give a damn about anyone but himself, but he served me food and listened while I blabbered about how I was feeling. I always felt confident and sexy after flirting with him. Suddenly, I was…comforted after just talking with him.

His smile made me feel like the most beautiful woman in his bar. And when he touched me? It was like no one in the world could tear us apart.

But it wasn’t enough, not now that I had the baby to protect.

“It sounds like an afternoon made-for-TV movie, but…” He leaned closer, brushing my hand as he stole another French fry. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“I wish it was.”

“Why?”

“Then it would make sense.”

I pushed the basket towards him. Grease didn’t sit well with uncertainty.

“How does a couple give each other thirty years of their life…and then walk away from it all?” I asked. “How do they burn everything good that came from their marriage and expect the rest of us to accept that it’s over?”

Nate raised his eyebrows. “Takes courage.”

“Courage?”

“Your parents were unhappy together. They split, even after thirty years of stability. They gave up their home and security to find something or someone who would make them happy.” He shook his head. “Christ, I wish my mom would do that.”

“But your parents are great,” I said. “They seem perfect together.”

His voice darkened. “Yeah. And my dad will do anything to keep it that way. Believe me. It’s not healthy to stay in a toxic relationship for any reason.”

I leaned against the bar. It might have been better to hide under it. At least it’d protect me if the world kept tumbling down.

“God, it’s so bleak,” I said. “How can any love actually last? Marriages get broken, people drift apart, and even the most stable and loving of relationships can just—poof! Be over. There’s nothing keeping people together.”

Nothing.

Not vows. Not love.

Not even children.

The fairy tales got it wrong. Snow White probably left the prince for someone less Grumpy and Sleepy. I bet Ariel discovered an entirely different sexual orientation when she looked closer at those new legs in a mirror. And Cinderella? When her kingdom didn’t implement labor laws for minimum wage workers, I doubted she just walked away in those glass slippers. Her happily-ever-after included a social and industrial revolution. Then she probably died surrounded by rats as a princeless oligarchy descended into anarchy.

It wasn’t a story I’d read to my baby.

What hope did anyone have if the stories only showed the puppy-dog eyes and first kisses? No one talked about mortgages and sickness and jobs and…accidental babies.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” Nate sipped his beer. “Or am I supposed to guess?”

“Please don’t try to guess.”

“Then tell me.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” I didn’t understand. “I want that romance. I’ve always imagined passion and excitement and sharing the world with someone. I wanted commitment and love.”

“So find it.”

“With who?”

I didn’t mean to say that. I averted my eyes before humiliating myself any more than a single, unwed mother with a crush on her baby-daddy could.

“Is there even such a thing as love?” I asked.

“Christ. Come with me.”

Nate grabbed my arm. I stumbled as he led me to his office. The door slammed behind him, and he pointed to his desk. “Sit down. Stop being so fucking crazy.”

That did not help the hormones. Rage-sniffles were neither endearing nor intimidating.

“That’s what you’re going to say to me?” I crossed my arms. “Stop acting crazy?”

“I’m not Rick. You want to discuss the depth of human emotions, talk with the man who has dissected the most hearts.”

“He’s a cardiologist, not a—”

“You want my honest opinion? You know what you really need?”

This would be good. “What?”

“To get fucked.”

Exactly what I expected.

“Is that your solution to everything?” I slapped his hand away. “If I sprain an ankle, are you going to rub your dick on it?”

“If it helped!”

“Getting fucked isn’t going to help me.”

His eyes hardened, completely serious, completely invasive. He saw through my freak-out and hit the core of everything that frightened me.

“Stop worrying about other people. Stop judging their happiness based on what you think is a perfect world. It doesn’t exist.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I lived through it. My parents put appearances before reality every damn time. My mom never spoke out of turn to my father. And when I was a kid, neither did I. My dad was a very spare the rod kinda guy, if you get me.” Nate frowned. “I couldn’t play football with Bryce or Rick because we had practices when I was supposed to be at youth group. Mom wasn’t allowed to work because a woman’s role was in the household. Dad insisted we looked Christian, said the right things, acted the correct way, and never, ever disobeyed him.”

“I didn’t know.”

“No one does. They see perfection. But you know what that life is?” He bumped my chin up to meet his stare. “Boring. Filled with unhappiness. Lacking the only thing that matters in life.”

“Family?”

“Pleasure.”

“We are so wrong for each other.”

Oh sweet baby Jesus, I said that out loud.

I covered my face. This was mortifying. That comment stripped away the remnants of my dignity, the remaining bits not bookmarked between the pages of What To Expect When You’re Expecting.

My voice weakened. “I didn’t mean…I’m not saying we’re…we have different philosophies.”

Nate smirked. “We have one thing in common.”

“What’s that?”

“We both want you to be happy.”

I stilled as his words melted like chocolate. The warmth pulsed over me, coating me in a sticky, sweet, and scary moment of surrender.

“So let me make you happy now,” he whispered. “Let me take some of the stress away.”

“It won’t solve everything.”

“It won’t solve anything. It’s not selfish to want a little pleasure, baby.”

“Where would it lead?”

“Where do you want it to lead?” He eyed the desk. “It’s not a bed, but it’ll do.”

Not. What. I. Meant.

But he had no idea what I was afraid of. This wouldn’t be another mistake in his arms. I had to tell him about the baby before we moved too fast.

“Nate, I’m—”

His lips brushed mine, stealing my words, my breath, and my mind. His kiss nibbled quick and fierce. Just the touch of him against me shattered my thoughts. The uncertainty and confusion that volleyed for space in my tummy next to the baby suddenly vanished.

All that remained was the kiss.

I hadn’t kissed anyone since that night with Nate.

I never wanted to kiss anyone else again.

His lips trailed over my neck. I accidentally exposed that delicious hollow of my throat. I never thought a touch could feel as amazing as being filled by him. Every press of his mouth kneaded shivers through my body.

I mewed.

He liked that.

“What do you think?” His hands settled at my waist.

What a day to wear a skirt. It was either foresight or wishful thinking. His fingers tickled over my thigh. I bit my lip.

“Let me take your mind off everything,” he whispered.

I didn’t trust what I’d think about without the wedding and my family to distract me.

Probably how nice it felt to be touched. How my breathing trembled with every trace of his lips against my skin. That everything inside me wound into a bigger knot than the last crisis he’d untangled with a touch, taste, and night of sweet regret.

“This is a bad idea,” I murmured.

His eyes darkened. “This is the best idea we’ve had in a month.”

“You kept count?”

“Five weeks, three days since I was with you.” He palmed my thigh. The warmth spread right to my core. “You don’t remember?”

Oh, I counted the days, but for a much different reason. “You really want me?”

“What do you think?”

His hand tangled in my hair, and his kiss pressed me into the desk without a single protest. Nate grunted at the nest of receipts and papers crowding around me. He whipped the paperwork away with a swipe of his arm.

My fingers tangled with his—dark and light, soft and rough. I folded my hand in his as his breath tickled over my legs. I hadn’t opened them yet. I had no idea what would happen when I did.

Nate waited patiently at the edge of the desk, staring at me for a permission that would ruin everything.

Or would it?

A baby came with its own set of natural consequences, and what we had couldn’t get any more complicated. Was it really bad if his words, stare, and touch dizzied me in such a perfect way?

Nate was patient. He teased my legs, drawing circles up my calves and tickling behind my knee.

“I don’t know if I can do this…” I whispered.

“Do what?” He chuckled, and my legs fell open. Did I really wear the white panties with the polka-dot hearts? “Tell you what, baby. This is a freebie.”

“A freebie?”

“No strings. No expectations. Let me help you out…and I won’t expect anything else.”

“You…don’t want to have sex?”

“Of course I want to have sex. But this service is its own reward.” He arched an eyebrow. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Is it?”

“Well, no,” he laughed. “You ask, and I’ll eat you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“Oh.”

His voice roughened as he stared at my panties. “But I promise. If you want this just for you, tonight? I won’t talk about it once we’re done.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because after I take you, you won’t hesitate ever again. I know what you need, and you’re gonna crave everything I can give.”

His lips pressed kisses along my thighs, and he knelt at the end of the desk with a smile.

Now or never.

And I wanted it now.

He stroked the outside of my panties with a knowing flick. I flinched, and he grinned. How was it possible my body already rocketed itself beyond reason and modesty? My panties were wet. Shamefully, revealingly wet.

And it didn’t matter.

Nate didn’t bother ripping them off. He gripped the material and pulled it aside, exposing my slickness for his inspection. He didn’t seem surprised. He knew I wanted him.

“Beautiful…”

His honest smile shocked me. I stared at the vibrant green of his eyes, the pale blonde of his hair, the hard angles of his brow, jaw, and chin. He was the beautiful one, but he admired me like I was something to be worshiped.

His tongue swiped against me, sinfully pink against the darkness of my petals.

“Relax, Mandy. I remember what you like…”

His mouth closed over my slit.

I was lost.

Nothing had ever felt so good. Nothing ever would again. His lips circled my clit and practically pulsed. A nibble trembled me like an earthquake, and I nearly leapt off the desk as his tongue darted inside me.

When did I get this sensitive?

And how was I supposed to get on with my life, go to work, and manage the wedding when all I wanted was to feel Nate’s tongue circling over my swollen clit?

This was a bad idea. It had started as a bad idea, and it would end as something worse than a mistake. Every bounce of my hips aided Nate in delivering me to the most needed and necessary pleasure of my life. If Nate promised to keep licking me, I’d never get off the desk.

He growled over my whimpers. I squirmed, but Nate knew how to keep me still. He licked his finger and pressed against my entrance, shushing me as he pushed inside. I groaned, but his profanity bit harder. I clenched over his finger. He stared at me in awe.

“Fuck, Mandy.” It wasn’t polite to talk with his mouth full. “You weren’t this hot before. How badly do you want me?”

“Bad.”

“How much do you want to come?”

“Too much.”

“You can. Anytime you want.” His tongue flicked harder against my clit. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you again.”

Dangerous conversation, but I could do nothing to shift it, not while he lapped at me and buried his finger deep in my pussy.

“Tell me you’ve wanted me.” His order was hard to ignore as he curled his finger against that perfect spot inside me. “Don’t deny it, Mandy. Tell me I’m the best pleasure you’ve ever gotten.”

Technically he was. I wouldn’t argue with it. I nodded.

“Better than your other boyfriends?”

Again, I couldn’t lie. “Yes.”

Nate sensed me tense. It was the wrong time for that pleasure, but I couldn’t stop it. I gasped and writhed and bucked against his finger as he drew long and teasing strokes. He grinned as the trembling overtook me. My core superheated, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

The orgasm stole my rationality, common sense, and ability to lie. I clenched and exploded as his mouth suckled at my clit.

“Tell me I’m the best fuck you’ve ever had.”

I couldn’t stop the truth or my honesty. They blended into one, and I cried out.

“You were the only one I ever had.”

The orgasm stole my vision, hearing, and every other part of me that might have been embarrassed to reveal the truth. Why didn’t it stop my heart? Was it too much to ask for momentary muteness? Amnesia? Insanity?

What the hell did I just say?

I crashed hard, and my pleasure wasn’t there to catch me. My breath drew harsh and ragged over the desperate heat in my core. I wanted more. So much more.

But first I had to do damage control.

Nate pulled away as I shamefully quivered against the desk.

Did I leave a wet spot? Oh dear God.

His eyes widened. “That night…were…were you a virgin?”

There wasn’t a classy way to confirm or deny that. I looked down.

“Holy shit,” he said. “I didn’t know. I just thought you were…uptight. In more ways than the obvious.”

Awkward. The word he wanted was awkward.

My fingers didn’t respond quick enough to untuck the panties bound against a very sensitive place. I swept my skirt over my legs instead and forced myself upright.

“Mandy…” Nate ran a hand through his hair, tangling it in the blonde. “Why… didn’t you say anything. You didn’t even act like…”

“It’s fine.” I swallowed. “You said we wouldn’t talk about it.”

“No, I said we wouldn’t talk about what happened today. This was sex a month ago. You didn’t tell me you were a virgin.”

Hadn’t told him I was pregnant yet either. I was 0-2.

“It wasn’t important,” I said.

“Like hell. If I knew, I would have…”

I smirked. “What? Gone slower? Been more tender?”

Nate leapt to his feet. “I probably wouldn’t have chased you.”

“Don’t kid yourself.”

“I would have made it better.”

“You couldn’t have made it any better than it was.” I crossed my legs and twisted my fingers in the skirt. Honesty was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to relieve me. “That night was special to me. And it was amazing. And it was fun.”

Nate set his jaw. “But?”

“That’s all this is. All you want.”

“What’s wrong with that?” He pointed to the desk. “Lay down. I’ll prove how much fun I can be.”

“I need more than fun.”

“Why?” Nate held me before I tumbled onto my wobbly, satisfied legs. “Fun is what you need. You’re wound tight, and you’re upset. Let me show you that there’s another side to life—one that doesn’t require love, marriage, and fairy tales.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to see what he could offer. But all the fun and games and messing around in the world wouldn’t make my life any easier.

“I have to believe in fairy tales now,” I said.

It was hard to say, hard to feel, hard to admit, especially as Nate stared so intently at me, wanting more than just my excuses. My voice weakened.

Why did it hurt so much to say?

“And I’m afraid you aren’t the right prince.”