One month earlier…

The San Francisco sky is dark, cloudy, and foreboding. The gloom of the weather fits my current mood. I sit in my truck, drumming restless fingers along the steering wheel. The clock on my dash reads five fifty-five. She should be arriving any time.

I just need a glimpse.

Somehow, I feel if I can see it with my own eyes, the truth of the situation will make itself known. I just need to see her.

A blue Honda pulls up and parks along the curb across the street. Her blond hair pops against the navy jacket she’s wearing. She runs her hand through her hair and enters the building.

What seems like eternity drags on in the minutes I wait for her to exit. When she does, I watch closely, taking in every feature, from her blond curls to her blue eyes. Even at this distance she’s beautiful. Yet a sense of uncertainty slips across my heart.

If she were meant to be mine, wouldn’t I feel it? Know it deep down from within the very depths of my soul?

Perhaps not. I felt that way once before, and it didn’t last. Crashed and burned more like it.

Maybe the thing people talk about—unconditional insta-love—only happens when you’ve known the person from the very beginning? The thought saddens me as I watch her settle into her car, pull into traffic, and leave.

The end result is that I need to be sure. Just because she’s told me it’s fact doesn’t mean it is. I’ve been taken advantage of in the past in business, not to mention the gold-digging whores who think they can sink their filthy claws into me by opening their legs and showing me a good time. Those women I scrape off like gum on the bottom of my shoe. Unwanted and annoying.

There’s only one woman who’s ever had her claws in me, and she’s the only woman I wish had never taken them out.

Still, I need concrete evidence, or I’ll never believe what she’s saying.

Decision made, I put my truck in gear and head across town to the shady bar I formerly had no plans to ever enter again.

When I arrive, the parking lot is mostly empty except for a handful of wayward Harleys and off-brand motorcycles. It’s only six thirty. Not exactly party time, and this is not the type of establishment that promotes happy hour or half-off drinks for the regular after-work office crew.

The building itself is off the beaten path and made up of all wooden planks. It’s shocking the damn thing hasn’t been bulldozed for being a hazard. Structurally, I’d swear a strong wind off the bay could flatten it, but there it stands, as it has for over twenty years.

I park my truck and head to the entrance. The Honda isn’t here yet. I didn’t expect her to arrive that quickly. She told me she starts work at seven most days, so here I am, ready to confront her about her confession last month.

If I were being honest with myself, I should have already touched base with her. She could fuck up my life royally if she can prove what she claims to be true. I, honest to God, have not been able to give credence to her claims. Not even for a moment. It’s beyond comprehension and preposterous. Definitely not something I ever thought could happen to me. I’ve always, always been careful.

Since that night three weeks ago, I’ve been hiding out. Only Chase knows I’m seeing someone new, although labeling it as seeing her is a tad far-fetched. I couldn’t very well tell him the truth. Not yet anyway. Not until I’m one hundred percent clear she’s not pulling a fast one on me.

Misty Duncan.

I didn’t even know her name when I fucked her over two years ago. All I knew was that she was blond, beautiful, and available during my drunken haze of need. And now it’s all coming back to bite me in the ass. Hard.

The bartender approaches warily. He’s probably not used to seeing clean-cut guys in this establishment. I’ve just come from a business meeting downtown, and my suit and tie make me stick out like a sore thumb.

“What’s your poison?”

“Beer. Cold. Whatever you’ve got on tap is fine.”

He scratches his long scraggly beard and nods.

I scan the room, making sure I can see the front door from my seat. There’s a couple of rough-looking guys playing pool, each with a two-bit floozy dangling on their arms between shots. One of the guys slides a hand along his girl’s thigh, brazenly copping a feel before putting his entire paw all the way up her leather skirt until she tips her head back and moans in delight.

Ugh. Why does Misty work here anyway? She seems like a nice girl. Pretty, great body. The girl could work anywhere. So why here?

The bartender sets the beer on the counter and foam overflows down the side of the glass. I don’t complain or say a word. This is not the type of place to lodge complaints.

I spy a stack of napkins in the corner and reach over and grab a few, sopping up the worst of the mess, when the door opens. The woman of the hour enters in a flourish.

I check her out while she tosses her purse behind the bar, grabs an apron, and ties it around her small waist. Staring, I try to find reasons to be attracted to her, but sober, I just can’t. She may have blond hair and brown eyes, but she is not Kathleen. There’s no subtle grace in her walk, no twinkle in her eye, no dimple in her cheek, and she’s small. Pint-sized, even. She pales in comparison to my girl. No, my Sweetcheeks is long and lean with a stunning body. Misty has short legs, big hips, and far bigger breasts. Cosmetically enhanced breasts.

What the hell was I thinking banging her that night?

Not knowing what else to do, I suck back my beer in a few swallows and give a chin lift to the bartender. He grabs my glass and pours me another.

“No tabs here, suit. Just cold hard cash,” he says, placing the glass down with a little less bravado than before.

I pull out my wallet and set down two twenties. “Got it.”

He nods, approval in his gaze.

“Hey, Carson? What are you doing here?” Misty smiles and walks over to the opposite side of the bar where I’m sitting.

“Figured it was time we talked.”

She licks her lips and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, okay.” She glances around, noticing there are really no patrons needing assistance. “Do you, uh…want to do it here? Right now?”

“No time like the present,” I answer dryly.

“Okay. So, you’ve had some time to think about what I told you.” Her voice turns into a whisper, even though no one’s paying attention to us. There are fewer than ten people in the place, including us.

I nod. “I have.”

“And?” She’s nervously biting her lip.

“I want a paternity test,” I declare flatly and with no room for argument.

Her eyes widen. “That’s fine. I, uh, don’t have medical coverage or anything…”

“No worries. I’ve got a friend who owns LabCorp Genetics. He’s agreed to come over this week and fast-track the results.”

Misty swallows and cants her head to the side. “You don’t believe me, do you?” She shakes her head so hard her hair sways back and forth with her movements. “Of course, you don’t.” Her lip trembles and her voice cracks.

I set my hand on her shoulder. “Honey, it’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s just a really big fucking surprise. Three weeks ago, I came in here because I needed a beer after a shitty day. I never thought in a million years I’d be walking into a dive bar I visited over two years ago and come face-to-face with a one-night stand.”

She winces.

“I mean, uh, how do I say this without sounding like an asshole?” I run my hand through my hair.

Misty tightens her lips and blinks a few times.

“Look, there’s no reason to sugarcoat this. We hooked up. For a night. I come back in here over two years later and am hit with a story, told by a woman I don’t even recognize, that I could be someone’s daddy.”

“But you are…” she says desperately.

I hold up my hand. “If that’s the case, it won’t be a problem to get a test done. Right?” I soften the last word, attempting to make sure she doesn’t crumble into a ball of tears right here on the spot. As it is, it could still happen.

She puts her hands on her hips and straightens her spine into a rigid line. “But I’m not lying. I wouldn’t do that!” Her eyes water, as if she’s on the verge of tears. “Do you think this is easy for me? I was just as surprised as you are when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know your full name or anything about you. There was no way I could ever contact you. This entire time I’ve been raising our child alone, and it hasn’t been easy, Carson. Not even a little bit. And I’m doing it all on a waitress’s salary? I’ve had to get my neighbors to babysit just so I could work…and…” Her voice is getting louder and louder as fear and anxiety become prevalent in her posture.

I set my hands on both her shoulders and dip my head down to be level with hers. “Hey, hey. I’m not saying you’re lying, and I don’t even pretend to know or understand what you’ve been through all this time without assistance. But right now, I need to protect myself as much as my potential child by proving paternity. Can you understand that?”

She sniffs and looks down at her shoes. Her shoulders are down and curving in as her entire being seems broken and small. Instead of responding, she nods.

“My friend will be in touch with you this week. We’ll work out a time for both of you to get tested as well as me. Results will be fast-tracked and then we’ll know.”

“And then what?” Hope fills her tone with a sincerity I can’t return. Not until I know.

“Then we’ll deal with the outcome.”

“Meaning what?” She sighs and twists her fingers together in front of her.

“Well, if this child is mine, I’m going to be a father. A real one. Not this Disneyland-dad bullshit. I’ll want regular access.”

Misty inhales and the tears finally fall. “You’re going to take my daughter away from me.” Her hand comes up to her chest as if her heart physically hurts.

Now this I can’t handle. I do not do well with women crying. The poor thing is positively shaking in heels too high for the job she has. I stand up and pull her into my arms in what I hope is a comforting hug.

“God, no. Misty, relax, honey. I’d never do that to you or to anyone, but that also doesn’t mean I won’t want to be in my child’s life. Shared visitation. That kind of thing.”

Misty curls her fingers into my dress shirt. “But she’s only a baby. She can’t be away from her mother. I’m all she’s ever known.”

Fuck. I knew this would be bad, but Jesus Christ, I had no idea my heart and mind would take such a beating.

I run my hands up and down her back until her body stops trembling.

“No one’s taking anyone away from anyone. We’ll work it out. I promise you this. You’re not going to lose your child. If she is mine, we’ll work together to do what’s best for her. Sound like a plan?”

Misty sniffles and pulls back away from my chest. She huffs out a tortured breath and wipes at her eyes with both hands.

“It’s going to be okay. I swear it.” I make the promise, not sure how or if I can even keep it.

---

“Why are you being so secretive about this woman of yours?” Chase leans against the arm of his white leather couch in his high-rise office overlooking the Pacific.

I sigh. “Brother, I’m not. It’s complicated.”

He takes a sip of his scotch and swirls the liquid around, and the ice cubes clink against the glass, sounding overly loud in the wide open space.

I take a sip of my own drink, letting the liquid burn a trail of fire down my throat. I welcome the prickling heat. At least it’s better than the alternative, the endless reminders of what’s been running rampant through my mind the past week.

Chase taps his lip. “Women are always complicated. Now tell me why this woman has your balls in a vise.”

As much as I want to spill my guts all over his pristine couches, I hold back. I’m not ready to hear the chastisement in his tone when he finds out I may have gotten a woman pregnant, and worse, not have known it for over two years. Chase is the epitome of a family man, though people wouldn’t know it with the no-nonsense way he runs his empire. But when it comes to Mrs. Davis and their twins? He’s a whole different man. His wife and kids are his world, and Gillian’s pregnant again, which means the Papa Bear side in him is out in full force. When it comes right down to it, I’m not sure he’d understand the predicament I’m in right now.

The truth is, I don’t know how to tell my cousin about this. Until I know if the child is mine, I’m not opening Pandora’s box.

“Look, let’s just say I’m in deep.”

Chase’s eyebrows rise into his hairline. “Interesting. How so?”

I cringe. “Not that it’s any of your business, asswipe.”

He smirks while finishing off the last of his drink. “Another?”

I slam back the rest of mine. “Fuck yes.”

“The fact that you won’t discuss this woman does not give me the warm fuzzies.”

“Warm fuzzies? Who are you? Did Gillian rip off your balls and replace them with pink fuzzy dice again?”

Chase lets out a warm chuckle. “Too right. Shit, she’s already trying to do too much with this pregnancy. She’s driving me positively insane. The caveman in me wants to keep her locked up in our penthouse, barefoot, pregnant, and taking care of our twins. In the grand scheme of things, is that so wrong? Really?”

“Man, let her be. She knows her body.”

“I know it better,” he deadpans, not even a hint of humor in his tone.

I grin. “Touché.”

He lifts his full glass in a salute before refilling mine with another two fingers of Macallan 24.

“Seriously though, what’s her name?”

“Misty.”

“Sounds…uh, young.” His words are an accusation.

“Not too young.”

“Tell me about her.”

I groan. I knew coming here today was a bad idea, but I’d been blowing him off for three weeks. If I hadn’t hooked up with him he would’ve sent out a search party.

Chase comes around the couch and sits across from me. He pulls one ankle up to the opposite knee and stretches out his arm in an open-for-discussion gesture.

“Carson. You’ve never been so tight-lipped about a woman before. This is me. Your best friend, your blood. You know you can tell me anything. Hell, how many times have I confided in you?”

I smile. “Really? Because I don’t remember getting an invite to a spur-of-the-moment wedding in Ireland three years ago.”

“How long are you going to hold that over my head? It’s been years. Give it up.”

Chase’s blue eyes look like they could pierce through mine, like daggers of truth sticking me straight through the heart.

“Fine. Christ, I’m sorry. Okay, here’s the deal. She’s a woman I had a one-night stand with two years ago.”

Chase frowns. “Two years?”

I can almost see him doing the math in his head. “When you were trying to get Kathleen back?”

The second tumbler of whiskey goes down far easier than the first while I mull over his words. “Yeah, I met Misty immediately after the last time I tried for a Hail Mary.”

“You mean after I had to pick your drunk ass up at a random shithole motel?”

I nod. “That would be the night.”

“Fuck.”

“Exactly.”

“You never mentioned a woman.”

“I vaguely remembered her, man. Apparently, after I fought with Kat and she kicked me out the last time, I got shitfaced, took Misty to a nearby hotel, fucked her, and passed out.”

Chase shakes his head.

“Yeah. Not my best moment. Worst of it is, I didn’t even remember her name. She was gone before I woke up.”

“Well, I can only say we all have times in our lives we’re not proud of.”

I run my hand through my hair and pull at the roots, wishing I could be honest but knowing I’m not ready for the backlash. The sting of pain in my scalp brings me back to the present moment. “It’s just random that I’d catch back up with her.” What’s more ridiculous is that the one night of sin might turn into a lifetime of service, but I keep that tidbit to myself.

“So, there’s a spark?” he asks.

I want to say no, there’s no spark, not a single flicker of excitement when I think about her, because the only firecracker I’ve ever felt was a tall blonde with a chip on her shoulder who continues to deny us a happy ending.

“You could say that,” I lie.

Chase twitches his lips and squints. He knows I’m lying. Luckily, he doesn’t call me on it.

“I did say that. Does this mean you’re seeing her?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m seeing her.” For now, I want to add, but choose not to. If it turns out this woman is the mother of my child, I’m going to be seeing a lot more of her.

God, this is a clusterfuck of epic proportions.