Watching January work behind the bar for the last two hours was like foreplay. He was so keyed up that he could barely utter a complete sentence as he drove the short distance to her apartment. It’d been only a week since the last time he had been there, but so much had changed. He felt so much older and more cynical than the man he’d been then. Who would have thought that was possible?

The ride up the elevator, like the drive to her apartment, was quiet. She stood an arm’s length away from him, her body language stiff and closed off. He didn’t know who she thought she was fooling. He could see it in her heavy-lidded eyes, the flush in her face, and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. She wanted him as bad as he wanted her. He’d bet if he slid his hand down the front of her tight jeans, he would find her panties soaked from the sexual tension burning between them.

She let them into the apartment and tossed her purse on the counter.

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked, opening the fridge. “We have wine, beer, or Diet Coke.”

“No, thanks.”

She shrugged and popped the cap on the soda in her hands. “Suit yourself.”

She was playing tough. Acting. Well, she was tough, just not when it came to him. He was her kryptonite the same way she was his. And that was his strategy.

“Sit, please.” He motioned to the couch. “I just want a chance to talk. If you don’t want to see me after that, then I’ll leave.”

The couch settled under her weight. She sat stiffly, facing forward with her soda in hand.

Brushing her knee with his fingertips, he inched just a little closer to her. Her head jerked around to see the spot where his hand rested, but she didn’t move away as she dragged her eyes up his body until they met his.

So much lust burned there that he couldn’t stop himself from closing the distance between them. He moved before she registered his intention, which may have not been the best plan considering she was holding a nearly full can of Diet Coke. The cold liquid spilled down the front of his pants, and he had little choice but to stand and assess the damage.

She looked from his pants to her wet blouse, and when he was sure she was going to stand and hurry to get a towel or scold him for making her spill her drink, she laughed. It started small and then built. In seconds, she was laughing so hard no noise was coming out. He laughed with her, but as it started to trickle away, he glanced at her shirt and honed in on her clearly defined nipples poking through the wet material. Her eyes followed his gaze. He made no attempt to hide his desire for her. He was painfully hard in a fraction of a second.

It wasn’t clear which one of them moved next, but they collided in the middle, stripping wet clothes off each other and falling back onto the couch a tangle of limbs.

She giggled through their kisses, and every part of it just felt right. He pushed all the shit that happened as far from his thoughts as he could and focused on January. Not a difficult task with her tits pressed up against him.

He leaned down and bit the ruby around her neck. It filled him with hope that she was still wearing it. Holding the gem in his mouth, he kissed her. The jewel clanked against their teeth until he released it so he could sweep his tongue against hers.

She tasted of Diet Coke, which was suddenly his all-time favorite drink, and he wanted to drown himself in it. In her.

Her moves were frantic and bold, and she took him completely by surprise when she fell to her knees beside the couch, taking him in her mouth. Her dark hair fell around her face, and he pulled it back, holding it so he could watch as her pink lips glided up and down his length. She made little noises as she licked and sucked, moans of pleasure, as if sucking his dick brought her as much pleasure as it brought him.

Nothing had ever felt this good, he was certain of that with every fiber of his being. Her perfect fucking mouth. If he died this instant, he’d go out on the highest note of his life. It was a moment so perfectly frozen in time that he was afraid to stop it, but if he didn’t, the night was going to end a hell of a lot sooner than he’d planned.

Grasping her head on either side, he pulled her up gently and urged to straddle his hips. She wrapped her long legs around his waist, and he took advantage of the position, plunging her down on top of him and filling her until he couldn’t go any deeper.

She placed her hands around his neck and looked at him through a mess of brown hair.

“I love you.”

Three little words. She loved him. That was all it took to bring reality slamming back into this perfect little fantasy.

There he was, doing the same goddamn thing he had done. Choosing love. After everything he’d done to make himself the better man, he was falling into the same rabbit hole.

No more.

He would not become that man. Responsibility over love, he reminded himself.

The next seconds had him gripping her hips and sliding her off him. Breathless, he stood and threw his clothes on as quickly as he could, ignoring the wet, sticky mess and the heady scent filling the room.

“What are you doing?” Her voice wavered slightly, hinting at the insecurity he’d caused.

“I’m sorry.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t do this.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, covering her breasts. “I don’t understand.”

“I have a baby coming. I can’t just shuck my responsibilities to get laid.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. It’d always been about more than getting laid with her, if he was only ever honest about one thing for the rest of his life that would be it. Still, by the way she recoiled at his statement, he knew he’d said the worst possible thing. And he’d probably screwed it all up beyond repair, which was most likely for the best. If he was choosing to do the responsible thing, it would be easier if January hated him. He let himself embrace the lie he just told himself, and steeled himself against whatever she would say.

“Get out.” Her voice was calm and quiet, but it hurt more than if she’d been in hysterics. He’d hurt her beyond repair.

With a final glance, he walked out the door, knowing leaving would be the biggest regret of his life.

* * *

An hour later, Brecken found himself knocking on a door and trying to shield himself from the slanting rain. It was late, and he shouldn’t be there, but his car had driven as if it were on autopilot. He hadn’t even been conscious of his decision to confront her until he pulled down the long drive, a small, yellow house sitting up ahead at the corner.

Louisa opened the door, pulled her robe tight around her, and squinted as if the porch light hurt her eyes. Shit. He hadn’t even looked at the time.

“Brecken. What are you doing here?” she asked before scanning his wet clothes. “Come in, come in.”

He hesitated, suddenly completely unsure what it was he hoped to gain from being there, but Louisa was the only one left that could give him the answers he wanted.

“I’m sorry to barge in so late. I would have called, but I didn’t even know I was coming until I passed the old vacant gas station.”

Louisa turned a light on in the kitchen and started the coffee pot. “It’s okay. I thought you might show up, but I hadn’t planned on it being at two thirty in the morning.” She smiled and motioned for him to sit.

He pulled the wooden chair out from the oval-shaped table in the middle of the kitchen, looking around the small room. It was mostly the same as he remembered. The same rose wallpaper and rooster figurines decorated the walls and shelves and the counters were lined with cookbooks and containers filled with spices. The kitchen had always been a place that felt welcoming and inviting, and even at two thirty in the morning, wet and angrier than he could remember ever being, he felt an odd sense of peace.

Louisa sat across from him with two cups of fresh coffee. The strong smell as the steam rose to meet his face was enough to rouse his foggy brain.

“Thanks,” he mumbled his appreciation as he wrapped a hand around the warm mug.

“Henry told me about your assistant. I’m sorry. You must be quite torn on what to do. I wish your mother were here, she was always far better at giving advice when it was needed than I’ve ever been.”

“I don’t need to know what to do. I’ve already made my decision. I won’t do what you and my father did.” He looked up, expecting her to be staring back with a disapproving scowl, but instead, she looked completely unfazed. “I won’t be like him,” he said quietly but with the same resolute tone.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Why are you banging on my front door in the middle of the night then?”

“I want to understand why? Why did you let him get away with it? You let him get off with completely chucking his responsibility. He had another son!”

“Oh, honey. Is that what you think? That he got some girl pregnant and left her and her unborn child to fend for themselves?”

“Isn’t that exactly what he did?”

“Your father always did right by me.” Louisa chuckled softly. “Hate our decision to keep it from you and Henry if you want, but don’t hate your father for something he didn’t do.”

“But he married my mom while you were pregnant!”

“Mm-hmm. And I was there that day. It was a beautiful wedding, and I was happy for them even when I had no idea what I was going to do with my life.”

“Why? I mean didn’t you want him to be there for you and his child?” He pictured what it would be like telling Nadia that he was going to marry January. A chill of dread ran up his spine at the wrath that would incur. How was it possible that Louisa didn’t feel that anger for his father?

“It was my choice to leave. You’ll have to blame me for that. I didn’t want to marry someone I didn’t love, and I certainly didn’t want to stop your father from marrying someone he loved. We both agreed it was best that way. He didn’t come by that decision lightly. I’m fairly certain it haunted him every day of his life.”

“I don’t get it. How could he have a child and want no part of his life? And living down the road and working at the ranch doesn’t count. He should have done more than watched his son grow up from a distance.”

“Let me show you something.” Louisa stood and walked to a small desk just outside of the kitchen, pulling open a drawer with a creak of the old wood.

Returning to the table, she dropped a stack of envelopes in front of him. He lifted the top envelope up and flipped through the others, stopping when he got to the last one.

“What are these?”

“Letters. After my parents were less than thrilled that their eighteen-year-old daughter was pregnant and unwed, I left Colorado and moved to New Mexico. I got a job at a bed and breakfast cooking and cleaning, which was where I met Stephen. Anyway, your father wrote me every week, begging me to return.”

“And this one?” He turned up the letter with his mother’s beautiful penmanship and ran his finger across her neat lettering.

“That’s the letter that finally convinced me. Even after I realized it wasn’t fair to your father or Henry to keep them apart, I worried about what it was going to be like for her knowing her husband had a child with someone else. Of course, she knew from the start, but it’s one thing to know and another thing completely to have to face that child every day.”

“So she asked you to come back?”

Louisa nodded. “She wrote to me when she found out she was pregnant with you. Said she wanted you and Henry to be a part of each other’s lives.” Louisa placed a hand on top of his. “Take them and read them yourself if you want. Maybe they’ll help you see that, although we may have screwed up by keeping it a secret, there weren’t any ill feelings between your parents and me. I loved them very much. And your father may not have been a father to Henry like he was to you, but he made sure he was taken care of. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have done for Henry and me.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

Louisa stood and placed her mug in the sink. “It isn’t necessary. It’s a lot, I know.”

She opened a closet between the living and dining room and pulled out a quilt. “It’s late. You can stay on the couch and we can talk more in the morning if you feel up to it.”

Brecken stood. “Oh no, that’s okay. I don’t want to impose any more than I have.”

“Bah!” Louisa shoved the quilt into his hands. “If you’re aiming to be less like your father, then you can start with not being so stubborn.”