Leo’s cabin in the Smoky Mountains looks the same as it did the last time I was here. I struggle to remember how long it’s been. Four years? Five? It’s ridiculously the same as it has been for twenty plus years.

Last night, I didn’t really check it out since I was exhausted.

This morning, I appreciate the way it hasn’t changed. A wedding quilt adorns one wall in place of traditional art. A horrid oil painting of me and Leo as kids still sits on an easel in one corner. It petrified me as a teen that visitors like Dane would see us looking so dorky. What was wrong with me? Look how stinking cute we are holding hands with our little-skinned knees and missing front teeth.

Even though my parents had plenty of money to decorate a cabin, it’s really a bare bones kind of place. There’s electricity and water, but not much else in the way of modern niceties. No cable television or traffic noises. Nothing to distract you, which used to be maddening as hell to me when I was younger and my parents dragged the pair of us to the mountains for a month.

Now it’s as peaceful as sitting in an automatic carwash with nothing to do but watch soap bubbles trickle in blue waves down the windshield. No wonder Leo finds refuge in this place when he wants to cleanse his mental palette and think clearly, which is exactly the reason I’m here. Because if I need anything, it’s clarity.

A baby. I’m going to have a tiny human.

I’m not equipped for this. At least not mentally equipped. I can predict book sales, build the most tempting merchandise display or persuade a famous author to visit for a signing.

But I don’t know how to change a tire, much less a diaper.

A baby. A miniature who cries when he wants something.

I rub my hand over my flat belly as I linger in front of the potbellied wood stove and shiver. I should’ve checked the weather forecast before leaving Nashville. It was warm yesterday, but now it’s nippy after a cold front last night. I didn’t even bring a sweater.

And now I’m going to be expected to keep a baby alive. I can buy a manual or watch a YouTube video on all that changing and bathing and burping stuff, but what if I mess up? Jesus help me. What was I thinking by having sex at all.

This is the trade-off for good sex with Dane? Not hardly a fair exchange. One orgasm…okay, maybe three…does not equal eighteen years of childcare.

I check my cell phone, not surprised that I still have zero signal. Leo will kill me when he gets back from New York. Brother dearest can be a little chauvinistic sometimes. The only thing that will save me is the fact that I’m preggers.

Well, I may not know the first thing about babies, except I obviously know how to make them. But I’m well-versed on how to build a fire in the stove—enough to knock the chill from the air. Last night, I was too tired to do it. This morning, it’s just what I need to cheer me up.

I walk outside in my pajamas and slippers. Turning right, I grab a pair of gloves hanging from a hook on the inside of the porch railing. I shake them out first. It takes me a second to snug my hands into each glove and then I walk to the wood caddy on the side of the house. A bird flutters away when I approach the pile to grab two small sticks of wood. A manmade sound splits the natural silence of the woods. A car engine.

Pivoting on my heel, I pause on the way to the front.

I glance to the drive leading to the cabin. The cabin is off the beaten path and a person only ends up here by design, not accidentally. Either doesn’t bode well for me.

The last thing I want to do is interact with some stranger who figures out I’m here alone. I read a lot of crime thrillers. This is exactly the way someone ends up tied to a bed.

And not in a good way.

I imagine myself fighting some psycho for my life and the one inside me that I now have to think about. My heart slaps against my chest in a panic.

I race onto the porch and glance around for a weapon. The sticks of wood will have to do.

The black SUV pulls closer. Dane.

When he steps onto the pea gravel, my body tenses.

“What are you doing here?” I ask more harshly than I intend. Adrenaline pumps furiously through my body, and I suck in a breath.

“Hey Butterfly. Good morning to you, too.” He closes the car door and strides toward me. His dark eyes flash with amusement at my less than cordial welcome.

His cheerful greeting does nothing to settle my racing heart. If anything, this is way worse than the proverbial chainsaw killer who should be showing up to assault me while alone in a cabin in the woods.

A wave of my morning nausea threatens. Not now!

“How did you know I was here?” I freeze with my back pressed against the door and my gloved fingers tighten on the wood in my hands. Calm down. He’ll never leave if I hurl on him.

We stand looking at each other—his eyes move over my face and down to the wood I hold, then back to my face.

He flashes his trademark smile on me, the one that always makes me a little giddy. The one that makes that dimple pop into one cheek like some naughty boy. “You must be chilly. You going to ask me inside?”

I block the door. If he comes inside, I’ll have to make up some reason why I’m here. I attempt to come up with a good explanation for escaping to the mountains midweek. My mind is a clean whiteboard. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“I am totally sensing that. Leo and Harper were worried about you.” His eyebrows hunker down in confusion. “Come on before you freeze.”

My brother. I could kick his ass. So much for sibling loyalty. Traitor.

Dane reaches around me, his hand brushing my waist before he twists the doorknob. “Give me the wood.”

Taking the two sticks from me as if I need his assistance, he chucks his chin in the direction of my open door. “After you.”

“I’m not helpless,” I grumble and walk inside.

“You wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” He closes the door and carries the sticks of wood to the stove.

“You surprised me. I was formulating my plan of attack if you’d been somebody with bad intentions.”

“You were planning to clock me with the stick of wood?”

“Yes,” I lie. “I’d hit you in the head with the wood, jump into your vehicle and take off.”

“Good girl.” He chuckles and hits his hands together, knocking off stray debris. “Is that what one of the heroines in your books did?”

“No. Came up with that one all by my little self. See, Leo had nothing to worry about. Totally capable of being here. I’m insulted that you guys were worried about me. What does a person have to do for some peace and quiet? Next time I’m hopping on a plane.”

Dane shrugs out of his jacket. He has these shoulders that draw the eye from one side to the other. Like a visitor at the Grand Canyon, I can’t help but marvel at the breadth. My gaze lingers longer than I’d like. What a genetic jackpot.

If I have a boy, I hope he inherits Dane’s great chest and arms and shoulders.

If a girl…sorry, hun.

“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah. Why?” I brush hair off my forehead. It’s surely a bird’s nest since I tossed and turned all night and didn’t brush it to grab the wood. My stomach gives an inconvenient squeeze. Please don’t let me get sick right now. I rub across my stomach.

He walks forward. “You zoned out for a second.”

“I…um…just a little early and I need something to drink.”

Taking three steps to close the distance, he tilts his head. “You’re flushed. You’re not getting sick, are you?”

I back up. “I told you. I need some caffeine and quiet. You were not invited,” I say rudely as bile inches up my gut. I command it to retreat.

He clucks his tongue and places the back of his hand on my forehead. “Crabby, crabby. That’s okay. I guess I scared you. Did you even bring protection?” he asks.

I resist leaning into the touch of his hand on my skin. I jerk away. “Protection?” I squeak.

He drops his hand. “Just in case…cause you never know.”

My eyebrows rise into my bangs. “Is your mind always on sex?”

His mouth quirks at the corner. “I meant another type of protection. Gun, mace, slingshot. You know, in case of bears.”

My face heats. “You’re the only hairy beast I’ve run into so far…and I’m not really afraid of you.”

Dane strolls to the kitchenette across the room. “Caffeine. Tea or coffee?” He opens one cabinet door after another until he locates the one with hot drink supplies.

“No making me a tea. You can see I’m fine and now it’s time for you to head back home. Tell Harper I said hi and I’m fine.”

He shrugs and grabs the box of tea bags. “I’m in no hurry. That’s one long drive.”

“Hello there. I appreciate the concern. Really. But—”

“No buts. I’m here and I don’t mind staying a while.”

Is the man deaf? One cup of tea and a few minutes of mindless chitchat and then I’m shoving him out the door. “I have stuff to do. So, we can have a drink and then I need to…” I search for a good lie, “…go into Pigeon Forge for a book convention.”

Smiling at my own ingenuity, I breathe in and feel somewhat less queasy. There. Now I’m here for a perfectly suitable reason.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were here for business.” He eyes me over his shoulder and grabs the teakettle. “Why didn’t you say so?”

I blow my crazy hair out of my eyes and put my hands on my hips. “No one asked. You rush to my rescue when there’s no reason. And you could’ve saved your time and called.”

“I did,” he answers and flips on the burner. A blue flame circles the bottom of the kettle. He turns and sits at the small kitchen table with a visible intention of staying a while. “No answer.”

I huff out a frustrated breath and reach for my phone that I’ve ignored for two days. Flipping it open, it’s clear that there are zero cell reception bars, a state I should remember from earlier trips. “No signal.”

A moment of nausea threatens and I glance at the bathroom. I really need to put something on my stomach. Yesterday Dr. Evans performed the blood test confirming pregnancy and said to eat whole grain crackers when I get up in the morning. Dane is getting in the way of my crackers.

“They don’t have more cell towers here by now?” he asks. “I bet that really irritates people.”

“Only some,” I mutter and walk to the stove. The sooner I drink some tea, the better. Crackers. I rummage at a snail’s speed through the bag of groceries I brought still sitting on the counter. I pull out the box of crackers and the recommended ginger tea.

I smell his cologne behind me, a mix of woods and musk and a scent I recently identified as patchouli. I guess I’ve had too much time on my hands if I made it my mission in life to figure out the smell that drives me wild. Now the scent roils around in my belly.

Oh the irony.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Really. You didn’t come up here spur of the moment for a conference.”

The kettle whistles and saves me from answering. I glance over my shoulder. “Are you hovering? You’re hovering.”

“I’m helping.” He pulls the kettle from the gas burner and places it on a metal trivet.

Ignoring him, I open my ginger tea package and grab the nearest mug. He steps away, and I pour boiling water over the bag.

I jump when Dane puts his hands on my shoulders. “You didn’t answer my question. I know you too well. You never close up shop and take off.”

I shrug him off and concentrate on the steeping amber liquid in my cup. “Life is short. Live in the moment and all that…” Taking a quick sip of the tea, I close my eyes. Tell him now or tell him later.

Tell him. I should tell him.

“Fuck,” he utters the oath with such venom, I nearly drop my cup.

“I just need to eat a cracker. Then we can talk.” A fresh wave of woozy undulates higher in my chest.

He inches closer and to my side so he can look into my face. “You don’t look happy to see me.”

“Crackers,” I say while pointing to the package. I grab the box and mug so I can put some breathing space between us. No puking on the baby daddy. In a few strides, I’m safely seated at the table.

I resist cramming a full cracker (or the entire package, to be honest) inside my mouth. Nibbling the corner, I imagine the baby cheering inside me. It’s about time.

The salt and earthy flavor gives me something to concentrate on besides Dane. It melts across my tongue.

“Butterfly?” His soft voice interrupts my enjoyment of the lifesaving cracker.

“Yeah?” I pop the second cracker into my mouth and fight back a cry over his use of the nickname.

“Are you up here because of me?”

My hand shakes while bringing the teacup to my lips, so I end up with both hands cradling it. “That’s feeling a little self-important, don’t you think?”

“I can’t turn back the clock and erase it. If I could, I would. Sleeping together was a huge mistake. Me saying we could have sex and be friends? Bigger mistake. Biggest mistake of my life.”

The nausea recedes and a real feeling of anger replaces it. “Gee. Are you sure? The biggest?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m feeling a little slow this morning. Bigger mistake than trading off that baseball card that ended up on eBay for twenty-thousand dollars?”

“Don’t make fun.”

“What about driving Jaycee’s new car into the pasture that night our freshman year of college and getting stuck?”

“Josie,” he warns.

“Or perhaps your greatest mistake is not marrying Phoebe when you told me you thought she was the one.”

“Stop right there.” He gets up and paces across the room to stand in front of the windows. “I know you have a right to be angry because it’s my fault. All my fault. But I want to go back to having you as my best friend. I need it. I need you. There’s something I need to say and you’ll understand why we can’t work.”

I swallow my snippety attitude. “Oh?” If he says he’s in love with someone else, I’m going to projectile vomit for sure.

“It’s not you or you and me together. It’s just me that’s the problem.”

“What are you talking about?”

His shoulders grow rigid, and he doesn’t turn around. “I don’t ever want to get married or have a family. Ever. And you deserve more than waiting around for me. I’ve never had a relationship that lasted more than a month. I know what you want out of life. A husband, kids, the whole nine yards. You get stuck with me, and it’s not going to happen.”

“You’re sure you won’t ever want anything more?”

“Not me. I’m one-hundred percent positive about this. I’m happy with the way things are and I don’t want the same things as you. I can’t care for any woman more than I care for you, but it’s not enough. You deserve more.”

I’m still staring at the back of his head when I fight back the tears. “Ok. Thanks for confiding in me.”

“So you understand?” Dane turns back to me and tucks both hands into his jeans. A wry corner of his mouth jacks up and his eyes plead with me. “We’re cool?”

“Dane.” I take one more sip of tea and breathe through my nostrils. “I’m pregnant.”