Ready or not…they’re a family now!

Dusty Carson knows he isn’t exactly father material. But his friendship with single mom Teressa Wilder has recently become a lot more intimate. Now he has less than nine months to prove that he can be the man she needs. And the first step is moving her and her kids in with him.

Except living with kids turns out to be more complicated than he’d thought. Between temper tantrums and toilet training, when is a guy supposed to get a minute to himself—never mind a chance to woo Teressa? This isn’t what Dusty thought he was getting into, but he’ll do whatever it takes to win her over. Even be a parent.

“We’re good together, Teressa.

We could work with that.”

She leaned into him, her body warm and pliant. “It’s not that simple—”

Dusty brought his mouth down on hers again before she could say anything else. What did he have to lose? Maybe he could even convince her they deserved a chance.

He stiffened at the thought. What was he doing? She’d just given him a legitimate out, but he’d been so…consumed with kissing her, he hadn’t been paying attention.

He dropped his arms, noticing with satisfaction her lips were red and swollen. “You’re a great kisser,” she said.

He wiggled his eyebrows, pleased by her compliment. “I have other hidden talents.”

She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “There are children in the house.”

“Right. Kids.” And she was the mother of his child, not one of his here-today-gone-tomorrow dates. She deserved respect and consideration. She deserved someone a lot better than him.

Dear Reader,

To Be a Dad is Teressa and Dusty’s story. They first appeared as secondary characters in When Adam Came to Town (Mills & Boon Superromance, September 2013), and readers have often asked if I would write their story.

I love both these characters. Teressa is so brave and feisty, and Dusty has the biggest heart in the world, and as I wrote (and rewrote) the story I realized they were much more complex than I’d initially realized. Which, of course, made them more interesting.

It was a pleasure spending time with Teressa and Dusty, as well as revisiting the fishing village of Collina. And before you ask, because readers have commented how they’d love to visit Collina, it’s a fictitious village. The Bay of Fundy is real, though, and it’s possible to find villages similar to Collina by the bay.

I hope you enjoy reading To Be a Dad. I love to hear from my readers. You can contact me through my website, www.katekelly.ca, or email kate@katekelly.ca.

Kate Kelly

To Be a Dad

Kate Kelly

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kate Kelly has had a love affair with books her entire life. Writing came in fits and starts, and she didn’t take it seriously until her forties. Now she can’t get along without it. She finaled in the RWA Golden Heart contest and won the RWA Daphne du Maurier contest. She has the good fortune to live on the east coast of Canada with her husband (the children have flown away). She writes, grows herbs and perennials, and sails when the wind blows her way.

To my amazing daughters-in-law, Josie and Naomi

To Martina, the best mother-in-law ever

To my sister-in-law, Tina, and my niece, Jennifer

And, as always, to my guys, Adrian, Reed and Rei

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

EXTRACT

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

TERESSA WILDER DEPOSITED her armload of groceries on the kitchen counter and listened to the cadence of her mother’s voice as she read Sarah and Brendon a bedtime story. As a single mom, she didn’t know what she would have done the past six years without her parents’ support. Unfortunately, her mother never let her forget the sacrifices she’d made to help her.

Two children from two different fathers, and now...

She grabbed the small white bag from the pharmacy, slipped down the hall into the bathroom and tucked the bag under a stack of towels. No sense in dropping the P bomb until she knew for sure. Her legs gave out, and she dropped down onto the toilet and covered her face with her hands. Who was she trying to kid? She was a baby-making machine. Hence her six-year-old daughter, Sarah, and three-year-old Brendon. She was probably the only almost-virgin with two kids. She could kiss goodbye her lifelong dream of escaping her hometown and becoming a chef in Paris.

“Teressa?” Her mother tapped on the door. “The children are asleep. Are you all right?”

No, but she would be. She was an expert at sucking it up. “Of course. Be right out.” She flushed the toilet and splashed cold water on her face before returning to the kitchen.

She stopped in the doorway to watch her mother put the groceries away. “Don’t bother with the groceries, Mom. You’ve helped enough for one day. Thanks for looking after Sarah and Brendon.”

She tried to be as independent as possible, paying rent to her parents for the tiny carriage house that hid behind her parents’ big, old family home, and she worked full-time as a cook at the local café. Her café. She may only own a third of it, but having worked there for five years she knew the business better than her other two partners, Sylvie Carson and Adam Hunter.

“You can’t leave chicken at room temperature too long.”

Teressa bit back the retort on the tip of her tongue as her mother stashed the chicken breasts in the refrigerator. Her mother meant well, it was just... She was tired and needed to be alone. And she knew more about chicken than her mother, Sylvie, Adam and the whole damned town.

“Dad’s probably wondering where you are. I’ll put the rest away.”

Her mother, whom she’d for some reason started to think of by her name, Linda, made one of her sounds of disapproval that she so excelled at. “Dad’s asleep in front of the TV by now. That man.” Her mouth twisted into a bitter shape.

“Maybe he should have a checkup. How long has it been since he’s seen a doctor?” Her mother was convinced Teressa’s father was the laziest person in their village, but Teressa worried he was the unhappiest. She hadn’t a clue how to help him, because he’d disappeared behind a wall of silence years ago.

“You know your father and doctors. He’d have to be half-dead before he went to see one. There’s nothing wrong with him that a real job wouldn’t fix.” Linda sniffed her indignation. “Well, if you’re sure you don’t need any more help, I’ll be off.”

Teressa scooted over to the door and held it open. “Thanks again.”

Linda zipped up her fleece. “They’re my grandchildren. Of course I’m going to help. Good night, dear. And don’t stay up too late. You look a little peaked.”

“Good night, Mother.” Teressa let the door swing shut as she went back to the groceries. Did people still use terms like peaked? How about devastated? Bummed out, desperate? Stupid? Yeah, definitely stupid.

What had she been thinking, having wild, totally out-of-control sex with Dusty Carson? God, he was so hot, there were days she could barely stand to be in the same room with him. Unfortunately, he was also irresponsible and immature. As friends they got along great. And as lovers, too. If their one time together was any indication, there were certainly no problems there. But as partners? Okay, maybe once or twice she’d imagined them together, but her daydreams never lasted because she was talking about Dusty. Mr. Party Boy. His head was as far from marriage and responsibility as it could get. She frowned. Strange that she’d never wondered why he avoided serious relationships.

She banged the cupboard door shut at the same time the phone rang. Checking the display to make sure it wasn’t doofus-man, she scooped up the phone. It was Anita Carson, doofus-man’s sister-in-law. Teressa didn’t make friends easily, but Anita, Cal Carson’s wife, was the kind of person who slipped under Teressa’s defenses without her noticing. They were slowly becoming good friends, although they were polar opposites. Anita was cool, always unfailingly polite and had a husband who would walk over coals to get to her. Teressa blurted out what was on her mind more often than not and was certain there wasn’t a man on earth who would care enough to take on her and her tribe of children.

“Hey,” she croaked into the phone.

“Teressa? Anita here.” Teressa heard the hesitation in Anita’s voice. “Did you pick up the test while you were in town?”

Teressa tucked the phone under her ear and maneuvered a carton of milk into the refrigerator. “Yup.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I just got home. I haven’t had time to take the test.” In the tiny village of Collina, New Brunswick, it was next to impossible to keep a secret, and telling Anita she might be pregnant was the same as telling the entire Carson clan. But a part of her had instinctively known she needed help this time, and it wasn’t likely to come from her mother, so she turned to her new friend for help.

“Would you like me to come over?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and massaged her right temple. “I guess not. If I’m pregnant, I’m going to be a mess, and if I’m not I’m going to be a mess, only a happy mess.”

Anita was silent for a minute. “I think I should come over. See you in a few minutes.”

Resigned, Teressa finished putting the groceries away and slipped into the kids’ bedroom to check on them. As usual, the sight of them asleep softened her knot of anxiety. They may have started out as “mistakes,” but they were the best mistakes she’d ever made. She picked up Sarah’s rag doll from the floor and tucked it into bed beside her tiny daughter.

Sarah had inherited Teressa’s red hair, but instead of being heavy and straight like hers, it corkscrewed out of her head in zany curls. Teressa had talked her into growing it long, hoping the weight would help straighten it, but that idea wasn’t working out so well. It wouldn’t be long before the insults started coming Sarah’s way on the playground. At least she could teach her daughter how to stand up for herself. As a child, it hadn’t taken Teressa long to realize that following her mother’s advice—to ignore what the other kids said and take the high road—wasn’t going to cut it. She’d gotten as good at handing out the insults as receiving them. She kissed her daughter’s forehead and moved across the room to Brendon’s bed.

As usual he’d kicked off all his blankets. He had his father’s blond curls, and her brown eyes. She put her hand on her stomach. Would this baby have Dusty’s coloring? Dusty had blond hair and blue eyes so beautiful she could spend hours looking at him. He wasn’t movie-star gorgeous; he was a fisherman, after all, and his face was lined from years spent on his boat, and from laughing. Dusty laughed a lot. Often just thinking about him made her smile, but not tonight.

Being a Carson meant something in the small fishing village of Collina. Not that the Carsons were rich. But Pops Carson was as close as they got to a mayor around here, and everyone respected the family. Growing up, she and Dusty hadn’t run with the same crowd, because he was four years older than she was. But once they hit their twenties, age didn’t matter as much anymore. She and Dusty had flirted with each other off and on, but once she had Sarah, Dusty switched to big-brother mode, which was his way of telling her they could be friends, but that was it. For all his crazy and wild ways, he’d become her sounding board and good friend. For the past three years she’d buried the physical attraction she had for him, until a few months ago when they’d both started spending time with the new guy in town, Adam Hunter. Unfortunately, Teressa had confused her friendship with Dusty as something more than physical attraction, and now there was a good chance their relationship was going to be put to the test because chances were she was pregnant.

When she heard a knock at the door, she pulled the blankets over her three-year-old son and dropped a kiss on his forehead. She should have told Anita not to come when she’d called earlier to ask if she could drop by. Anita was so reserved Teressa hoped some of her restraint would help keep her own emotions under control. But Anita would insist Teressa take the pregnancy test tonight, and she wasn’t sure she was ready. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready for a third child.

“What’s that?” Teressa asked as she entered the kitchen.

“A bottle of nonalcoholic bubbly.” Anita stashed the bottle in the refrigerator between the milk and the orange juice. Anita was tall and willowy, her long blond hair falling in a perfect curtain across her back. She used to have the perfect figure but had lost too much weight last summer, unlike Teressa, who had noticed lately that bits and pieces were starting to sag and shift, like those half-deflated balloons people tied to their mailboxes.

Two years ago, Cal and Anita had eloped before anyone from the family or the village had met Anita, and Cal, in his usual impervious way, presented his bride to everyone, expecting them to love her as much as he did. It had taken a while for folks to warm up to Anita because she was so different from the rest of them. But in the past few months, Teressa had been enjoying getting to know her better.

“I’m going to need something stronger than fake champagne to lift my spirits, girl,” she admonished Anita.

Anita crossed her arms and tried to look stern, an almost impossible accomplishment for someone with Bambi eyes. “Have you done it yet?”

“No.”

“Where’s the kit?”

“Bathroom.”

“What are you waiting for?”

Teressa’s shoulders slumped. “I just... It’s not that easy.”

Anita’s voice softened. “Whatever you decide, I’m behind you one hundred percent.”

Teressa wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s not that I don’t want the baby.” That wasn’t the complete truth. She did, and she didn’t. Already having two children, she understood what an incredible gift it was to have a child, and she knew in her mother’s heart terminating a pregnancy was not an option for her. But bringing up three children by herself? She wanted to cry every time she thought about the work and the responsibility.

“You’re a wonderful mother, Teressa. Anyone can see that. If you’re pregnant, and you want the baby, we’ll all help in any way we can. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think Dusty is going to be a great dad.”

“I just bet he’s jumping up and down with joy right now.”

“I imagine he’s scared. Almost as scared as you.”

“Scared he’ll get stuck with me and my brood.”

“Maybe.” Anita shook her head. “But he cares about you, Teressa.”

“If this were a few years ago, and it was just about Dusty and me, maybe we’d have a chance. But I’m twenty-eight years old, too old to get stars in my eyes. And I travel with a posse these days, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“You’re arguing to avoid the inevitable. Go.” Anita pointed toward the bathroom.

* * *

ANITA TRIED TO ignore the sadness that tugged at her heart as she watched Teressa disappear into the washroom. Sadness for her friend because her life had always been so hard, and sadness for herself because more than anything, she wanted to have Cal’s baby. But Cal, afraid of history repeating itself, refused to start a family, and the miscarriage she’d had a few months ago had only confirmed his fears.

Once Teressa was out of sight, Anita sank onto a kitchen chair. She’d insisted on coming over tonight against Cal’s wishes. Teressa deserved to have someone to hold her hand for this. Anita just wished there was someone stronger than her. She sighed and leaned back.

Everything was a test these days. Was she strong enough to stand by her friend without breaking down and tell her of course she was lucky to have a third child while Anita longed to have just one of her own? Could she fit into a community that was as alien to her as her father’s world of rules and rituals would be to almost everyone living in Collina? Could she become a strong woman like Teressa and her sister-in-law, Sylvie? She wanted so much, but mostly she wanted a family of her own, and she was going to do whatever was necessary to make that happen.

She straightened when she heard a truck pull into the driveway. She’d found the courage to leave her old life and follow Cal to Collina, and she’d find the courage to prove to her husband she was emotionally and physically ready to have a child.

* * *

THE HALLWAY FELT miles long as Teressa trudged toward her future. The past few weeks, she’d been playing a mental game, trying to trick herself into believing she wasn’t pregnant when she knew she damn well was. Of course she was! She’d never caught a break.

Her life had derailed almost before it had started. When she’d become pregnant with Sarah, she’d had to forego the opportunity to attend the chef school she’d been accepted into and had gone to work as a sous chef in the local café she now owned in order to support herself and her new baby. She’d been there ever since, and yes, Dusty and Sylvie’s father, Pops, who had owned the café for years, had been more than good to her. But no matter how kind and generous he’d been, Collina was still a small fishing village on the edge of the Bay of Fundy, and Paris was a million miles away.

She stopped and peeked into the kids’ bedroom again. Angels, both of them. She could do this. There was room in her life for a third child. But that was all. Forget a husband or boyfriend. Romance? A serious career? Who had the time or energy?

She closed the bathroom door and pulled the pregnancy test out from under the towels. The moment of truth had arrived.

* * *

“WHEN DID YOU turn into such a slob?”

Good question. Dusty stuck his hands in his back pockets and rolled back on his heels. “Been a little preoccupied lately.”

“Is that what you call it.” His older brother, Cal, shoved two empty cases of beer out of the way with the toe of his boot. “How can you live like this?”

“I didn’t ask you up here for advice on housecleaning.”

Cal studied his face. God only knew what he saw. Pure terror? “Has she taken the test yet?”

“I don’t think so. Anita just went over there. She’ll call when they know. So.” He looked around his cluttered house. As usual, Cal was right. He was a pig. “Where do we begin?”

“We?”

“Come on. I need help. We all know that Teressa’s going to have to move out of the carriage house. It’s already too small for the three of them. I have to at least offer her a place to stay, I guess. It’s time I started fixing up the house, anyway. I’m getting tired of living like I’m at my hunting camp.”

“Okay, let’s start here.” Cal dug his jackknife out of his pocket and sunk the blade into the wood trim around the large living room window.

“Hey! That’s not helping,” he protested. He’d thought he’d got a great deal when he’d bought the house a few months ago, but he had a feeling he was about to find out exactly why the bungalow had sold for such a low price. Cal had tried to warn him to have the house assessed, but Dusty’s knee-jerk reaction of telling his older brother to mind his own business had kicked in and the house had been an impulse buy all the way.

His ever-efficient brother pulled a notebook out of his jacket pocket and started writing. “The wood’s full of rot. It’s gotta go. And those carpets are gross. Some of that new click flooring would clean this room up, and it’s not expensive.” He stopped writing and smirked at his brother. “Best of all, you can install it yourself.”

Great. How was he supposed to fit in reno work during lobster-fishing season? He was on his boat twelve hours a day because of the high tides. Collina got close to fifty-foot tides locally, five times higher than the rest of the Atlantic coast. Most ports along the bay drained out with the tide and filled up when the water rolled back in. Once he went out on the rising tide, he couldn’t return until the tide rose again. It wasn’t easy fishing on the Bay of Fundy, but it was one of the richest fishing grounds on the east coast of Canada. Plus, he’d grown up working on the bay and knew its moods and the riches beneath its surface.

Cal gave Dusty’s shoulder a brotherly punch. “I’ll help when and where I can. So will Pops. Matter of fact, we’ll have to watch how much he does. The doc says he still has to be careful. Heart attacks at his age are no picnic. I imagine Adam will lend a hand, too.”

Cal continued talking as he wandered into the kitchen. “This is where you’re going to need my expertise. Plywood cupboards went out with the sixties.”

“Right.” A ball of iron settled in Dusty’s stomach as he eyed the rust stains in the old white enamel sink. “Where the hell do I start?”

“I’ll go through the house and make a list of what needs to be done right away. If you want to get any renos done, you’re going to have to make room in here. I suggest you start carting everything out,” Cal said.

Dusty looked around, bewildered. “Everything? I just moved in.”

Cal took his elbow and pointed him toward the mountain of empties sitting by his kitchen door. “You moved in months ago. You’ve got to clean this crap out of here. Come on, I’ll give you a hand.”

Dusty welcomed the straightforward work of hauling what was basically trash out of his house. Maybe he had let things get a little out of control around the house. The work prevented him from thinking about his real problem. Teressa. In one way or another, Teressa had been a problem forever.

He was crazy about her, and he couldn’t stand her. That was maybe putting things too strongly. But she came with so many problems attached, she scared him. First, the kids, and—okay, he liked kids well enough. But man, kids that didn’t go home at the end of the day? He worked hard, and when he got home he liked to kick back, drink a few brewskies and watch a game if it was hockey season or hang out with his pals. If Teressa lived with him—and face it, she had to move somewhere because where she was now wasn’t big enough even without the baby, and if there was a baby—she wouldn’t tolerate a bunch of guys hanging around.

He stashed an armload of empties in the back of his truck, pulled out his cell phone and checked that it was turned on. If he and Teressa had a kid he wanted to take care of it. His mom had died when he was young, but Pops had been a great dad. Still was. Not wanting to worry him, Dusty hadn’t told his father about the baby yet.

If there was a baby.

On top of the kids—and don’t get him started on the other fathers—there was Teressa. He sat on the tailgate of his truck and stared off into space. She was crazy sexy. If they had all these kids and babies and things, they’d never have time for sex again. That just plain sucked.

As for getting married and building a life together? Loveless marriages worked sometimes, didn’t they? His own parents’ marriage may well have been a marriage without love. His mother had died in a car accident while running away with her lover when he was thirteen years old. It had hurt like hell knowing his mom didn’t love him enough to stay, but now, looking at the tragedy, he realized Pops must have suffered the most of all.

If he married Teressa, and she screwed around on him because she didn’t love him, he didn’t think he could handle it. He’d always assumed he’d get married someday, preferably to a sweet woman who was crazy about him and liked having a fisherman for a husband. Teressa didn’t think much of his job or of him, or Collina as far as that went. She’d never stopped dreaming of moving away. He couldn’t imagine living anywhere but Collina and working on the water.

The only thing they had going for them was their friendship. Teressa was a good enough friend that she didn’t mind telling him off when he needed it. Like when Pops had his heart attack and Dusty had unraveled. Teressa pointed out that it wasn’t about him and told him to grow up and think about Pops. Her little speech had been exactly what he’d needed to ground him. She almost always gave him what he seemed to need, whether it was a slap up the side of the head, or a good laugh, or the ear of a good friend.

“Hey, bonehead. This is your mess, not mine. Get the lead out,” Cal called from the doorway of the house as he ambled toward Dusty.

Dusty pushed away from the tailgate. “How do you suppose people have sex if there are all these kids around?”

Cal grinned. “They don’t. Ever again.” He pounded Dusty on the back. “That’s good, considering how easily Teressa gets pregnant. I can see it now, you two and twenty kids.”

“Not funny.”

“Sorry. Tell you what. If you and Teressa do hook up, Anita and I will take your kids for a night here and there.”

His kids. Jesus.

“You okay? You look like you’re going to hurl.”

No, he wasn’t okay. He may never be okay again. What did he think he was doing? There were days when Teressa acted like she didn’t even like him. And there were days when she pissed him off royally.

He’d been waiting half his life to make love to her, and when the opportunity suddenly presented itself a few weeks ago the last thing on his mind had been birth control. If she was pregnant, what did that mean? Would he be expected to marry her and inherit an entire family? Did he even want a family right now? He was so mixed up, he felt as if his head was going to explode.

“You need to talk, Dusty?” Cal looked concerned.

Dusty shook his head. “I can’t think straight. I like Teressa, but she drives me nuts. I even like kids, and her kids are great, but that doesn’t mean I want an instant family.”

Cal frowned. “You’re not going to want to hear this, but I’ve gotta tell you, bro, like is not going to be enough to get you through the rough times. I love Anita, I’d die for her, and still sometimes I can’t breathe and have to get out of the house and away from her. I know this is a lot to take in, and you have my full sympathy, but you and Teressa have to sit down and talk. I think you, not Anita, should be over there holding her hand right now. I tried telling Anita that, but she’s got ideas of her own these days. Why don’t you go?”

“Right now?” What if Teressa wouldn’t let him in the house?

“Tell Anita I could use her help here.”

“You’re probably right. I should be with Teressa.” He remained glued to the spot.

“About time. Good luck, bro. Call later if you need to talk.”

“Yeah. Thanks, Cal.” Dusty climbed into his truck and started the engine and backed out of his yard. He concentrated on the road in front of him, feeling as if he was one step removed from everything around him. No more avoiding the truth. The hour of doom had arrived. Time to pay the piper. Man, he wasn’t going to hurl, was he? For damned sure he made himself sick.

Think of Teressa. Think of what she’s going through. He swallowed the acid in his throat, rolled down the window and sucked in a lungful of cold November air. This was Teressa. They’d known each other forever, and they’d work things out. Everything was going to be all right.

Maybe.

CHAPTER TWO

TEN MINUTES LATER, Dusty stood outside Teressa’s door and watched his breath plume in the frosty air. It was only a week into November and already it felt like winter. The temperature on the water, as always, was at least ten degrees colder than on land. He’d have to dig out his long johns, that is, if he could find anything after his brother finished ripping his house apart.

He was stalling. Hard to pretend otherwise. Although he had mixed feelings about going through that door, no way was he going to leave Teressa to face another pregnancy on her own. Aside from everything else, she was his friend, and she’d had a hard life up ’til now. It wasn’t in him to turn his back on a friend in need. Plus, her getting pregnant was as much his fault as hers. Teressa loved children, and he suspected she’d never consider terminating the pregnancy. Truth be told, the thought of doing such a thing made him feel queasy, but it wasn’t his decision to make.

When he shoved the door open, Anita pivoted around, frowning at the intruder. That was pretty much how he felt, like an intruder.

“Hey.” He stayed by the door, figuring Teressa would fly into the room and kick him out any second.

“You came!” Anita made it sound as if he’d shown up at some kind of social function.

“I thought I should be here.” It came out as one word: IthoughtIshouldbehere.

His sister-in-law studied his face. “I think Teressa will be relieved to see you.”

“You think? Cal says to tell you he’s at my house, and he needs your help.”

His big brother, the tough guy no one could get close to, had fallen head over heels in love with Anita. How had Cal done that? How had he let down his barriers and exposed himself? Anita seemed like a nice person. Dusty was almost certain she loved his brother, but Cal and Anita had had problems lately, and neither one had confided in anyone what those problems were. Which proved, just because you loved someone and got married, there were no guarantees that everything was going to work out.

He trusted Pops and, he supposed, Cal and Sylvie. But Teressa’s moods were too mercurial to make it easy to trust her. Nine times out of ten she came out swinging. The one thing he did trust about Teressa was that she always tried to be fair. Or almost always, at least.

Anita grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged into it. “She’s pretty high-strung tonight.”

“I figured.”

Anita tilted her head. “If you don’t mind my asking, are you going to ask her to marry you?”

“I don’t even know if she’s pregnant yet.”

“You realize that she’d probably say no.” She stood with her hand on the door knob.

“I figured.” Had he? Really?

“Maybe you better—”

“Anita? Go, okay? I’ll take it from here.”

Anita came back into the room and surprised him when she rose on tiptoe and kissed his jaw. His unshaven jaw. Christ, he couldn’t even get that right. “You’re a good man, Dusty Carson,” she said.

He swallowed hard. “Thanks.”

“Call Cal later if you need someone to talk to,” she added on her way out the door. She stuck her head back in. “Take your boots off,” she hissed. “You don’t want to upset her.”

Dusty breathed more easily when he heard Anita pull out of the driveway.

Teressa had probably heard the vehicles coming and going, too, so he might as well go and find her. He pulled off his boots and left his jacket on a hook by the door.

Her bedroom was empty, and he kept on going, but hesitated at the kids’ room. Should he check on them? Would he wake them if he opened the door? After a second of listening and hearing nothing, he continued on. So, she was in either the bathroom or her closet of a living room. The bathroom door was closed. He considered knocking, but went with his gut. If he knocked, she could tell him to get lost before he had a chance to talk to her.

When he opened the bathroom door, Teressa was sitting on the toilet, staring at her hands in her lap. A flat plastic stick sat on the edge of the sink. She looked so scared it reminded him of the Halloween when she was twelve, and he and a bunch of guys had hidden in a hedge and jumped out at her. She’d peed her pants right there on the sidewalk in front of everyone. She hadn’t talked to him for a year after that. Hell, no wonder she didn’t trust him. At sixteen, he should have known better.

Dusty squatted down in front of her. “Are you okay?”

“Couldn’t wait for the bad news, huh?”

“So, are you...?” The words stuck in his throat.

“I don’t know. I can’t look.”

Dusty picked up the plastic stick. “This it?”

“Yup.”

“What am I looking for?”

“Two lines.”

“Two lines means you’re pregnant?” His hand shook.

She continued staring at her hands. “That’s the way it works.”

“You’re pregnant.”

Teressa groaned and listed to one side.

Dusty squatted down on his haunches again and slid his hands along her thighs. “It won’t be so bad. We’ll do this together.”

Her head snapped up. “Really? You want to be pregnant for the first trimester or the last?”

Usually, right about now, he made some smart-ass comment and they got into it. He took a breath, counted to ten. “I want to be with you during the whole thing.” He swallowed his panic. “All of it. The pregnancy, the birth and all the years to follow.”

She pushed his hands away and stood in front of the sink. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Be nice to me. It makes everything so much harder.”

He stood and looked over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m trying to make things better.”

“I don’t deserve better.”

“What are you talking about? You think you got pregnant by yourself? We’re in this together, whether you like it or not.” He rested his hands on her hips and pulled her back into him. “Far as I’m concerned, you deserve the best.”

He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her sweet scent, found her earlobe and nipped it. He could seriously get used to this if they were married.

She stiffened. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop.”

Not exactly the reaction he was looking for. “Why? You can’t get pregnant again. We might as well take advantage of the good parts.”

“So, you’re in this for the sex?” she hissed.

He raised his hands as if she’d pointed a gun at him. “No. You’re...you’re twisting it around.” Right, and that lump in the front of his jeans was just a stick. Log. Whatever. “All I’m saying is...” Shut up, man. “I think you’re a really attractive woman, and no matter what happens in the next year, I’ll still find you attractive.”

She flicked her long red hair over her shoulder, and he watched it sway across her back, remembering how it felt against his chest their one mad night together. He chanced a glimpse in the mirror and caught the shadow of sadness in her eyes. Okay, maybe he was going about this the wrong way. As usual.

He put his hands on her shoulders and gently turned her until she stood in the circle of his arms. “Give me a chance, Teressa. I won’t let you down.”

She closed her eyes and sunk into his embrace. He was always startled by how fragile she felt in his arms. Not that he got to hold her often, but, yeah, in his mind she resembled an amazon warrior. In reality she was a slender woman with too heavy a burden to carry.

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and pulled away. “Thanks. I needed a hug.”

“Always glad to be of service.” He watched Teressa’s open expression shut down at his flip answer. Would he ever learn to think before he opened his mouth? He cupped her face before she could move away. “I’m serious. I want to be a part of your life.” Now was probably a good time to mention marriage, but he wasn’t ready to go there yet. Wasn’t sure he ever would be.

“Come on.” He tugged on her hand.

She snatched her hand back. “I’m not going to bed with you, Dusty Carson.”

Great start to a...whatever the word was for what they had. He should give up while he was ahead. Determined to push forward, he took her hand again. “I want to talk to you about...things. Let’s go into the living room.”

“What’s wrong with the bathroom? You got something to say to me, this is as good a place as any.”

“You’re just being contrary.” He slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Come on, Tee. We’ll be more comfortable on the couch.”

She shrugged him off, her lip curling in disdain. “Is this your sad attempt at seducing me? ’Cause in case you haven’t noticed, it’s not working.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you.”

“You yell like that, you’re going to wake the kids up.”

Dusty scrubbed his hands over his face. He should get the hell out while the getting was good. But no way would he leave Teressa to face having another child by herself. He’d do the right thing if it killed him. “Okay. You want to do this here, we’ll do it here. Sit.” He pointed at the toilet.

“What is your problem?” Teressa sat, for the first time looking a little curious.

“Mommy?” A small, worried voice sounded through the door.

Teressa started laughing. “You’re going to want to let Brendon in before he gets hysterical.”

It was a sign. He and Teressa weren’t supposed to take their relationship a step further. If they were, everything would have gone smoothly. Hell, who was he kidding? Nothing had ever gone smoothly between them.

He yanked open the door and glared down at the tiny boy hopping from one foot to the other. “Dusty!” Brendon blinked like he was going to cry. “I gotta pee.”

“Okay.” He stepped into the hallway, but his heart thumped over when he glanced back at Teressa. Her laughter had morphed into tears as she scooped up the pregnancy stick and tossed it into the trash.

“Mommy, are you sad again?” Brendon hugged her leg.

“No, baby. I’m just tired. Good on you for getting up to go to the bathroom.” She sidled past her son. “Dusty will help you, okay? I have to take care of...something.”

Again, Brendon had said. Are you sad again? He knew Teressa struggled with her life as a single mom, but he had no idea how much.

Tears pooled in Brendon’s eyes.

“What’s your problem?” Dusty barked.

“I can’t reach.”

Squatting down, Dusty mentally kicked himself as the kid started crying in earnest. “What do you need, Brendon?” Other than a kind, caring adult.

Brendon gulped back tears. “My potty.”

Potty. Right. He opened the only closet door and grabbed the white plastic potty. “You don’t pee standing up yet?” There was so much he didn’t know about kids. He placed the potty in front of Brendon and backed off to give him some privacy. Nothing turned the tap off faster than another guy watching you take a leak. When he glimpsed back to make sure Brendon was okay, the kid was sitting on his potty, staring up at him.

“Will you teach me to pee standing up at the toilet?”

Dusty folded his arms over his chest. “Now?”

Brendon shook his head from side to side. “Tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Dusty fidgeted as he waited for Brendon to do his thing. Where had Teressa gone? They hadn’t even had a chance to talk about the baby. Oh, my God. His lungs collapsed, and he gulped for air. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or shriek with horror. In a few months, he was going to be a dad.

“You done yet?”

“Guess so.” Brendon pulled up his bulky pajama bottoms. The kid was wearing diapers. Why wear diapers if you didn’t need to?

“Okay, see you, bud.”

Brendon’s bottom lip trembled. “Mommy always tucks me in.”

“I knew that. But we’ve got to be quiet, because we don’t want to wake up your sister.”

When he scooped the little boy into his arms, Brendon held himself stiff as a board. He smelled good, though, like little kid and sleep. He laid Brendon in his bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

“Dusty?” he whispered with his eyes closed, his body still stiff.

“What?”

“Promise.”

“Promise what?”

“You’ll teach me how to pee standing up.”

“If you’re still awake when I get back from fishing.”

He watched Brendon as his face softened into instant sleep. Kids. They were amazing. He didn’t know the first thing about them, though. How did you know if you were being a good dad or not? There had to be some kind of manual on how to bring up a kid. He needed to start reading up on the subject, but the idea that he was actually going to be a dad felt so unreal, as though someone was playing a really bad practical joke on him. He wished he could go to sleep and wake up to find he was still a free man.

But that wasn’t going to happen. He was officially going to have a child of his own. Well, Teressa was going to have it, and the child would be theirs, not just his. He tiptoed out of the bedroom and went in search of the lady in question. He found her in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher. She didn’t look at him when he walked into the room.

He grabbed Teressa, pulled her into his arms and, before she could say a thing, he kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. She tasted so sweet and sexy at the same time. He loved how soft her mouth felt, how good she tasted.

And he liked how she clung to him, as if she needed help to stand up when he finally lifted his mouth from hers.

“No.” Her voice sounded husky, the same way brandy felt as it slipped over his tongue. No to him? To them? To sleeping together?

He kissed her again, brought his hips hard up against her, so she could feel what she did to him. She trembled in his arms. He liked that, too.

“We’re good together, Teressa. We could work with that.”

She leaned into him, her body warm and pliant. “It’s not that simple—”

He brought his mouth down on hers again before she could say anything else. What did he have to lose? He loved kissing her. Couldn’t get enough. Maybe he’d even get lucky and convince her they deserved a chance.

He stiffened at the thought. What was he doing? She’d just given him a legitimate out, but he’d been so...consumed with kissing her, he hadn’t been paying attention. Time to cool things down.

He dropped his arms and stepped back, noticing with satisfaction that her lips were red and swollen. “You’re a great kisser,” she said as she wiped the back of her hand against her mouth.

He wiggled his eyebrows, feeling inordinately pleased by her compliment. “I have other hidden talents.”

She snorted. “I’m well acquainted with your talents.”

“I wouldn’t say you were well acquainted.” A corner of his mouth hitched up. “I’m thinking we could use a little refresher course.”

She put her hand on his chest and pushed him back. “There are children in the house.”

“Right. Kids.” And she was the mother of his child, not one of his here-today-gone-tomorrow dates. Somehow that changed everything. She deserved respect and consideration. She deserved someone a lot better than him.

* * *

TERESSA LEANED AGAINST the counter for support and rubbed her arms, feeling cold and yes, lonely, damn it. There was no doubt she and Dusty were physically compatible. But she’d known that already. She had the opposite problem, actually. It was difficult being around him and not jumping into those heavily muscled arms of his. Dusty had earned his muscles from honest work, just as he’d earned those sexy crinkles at the corners of his eyes from squinting into the sun. Heaving heavy lobster traps was man’s work. She knew because she’d tried working on one of the local boats one summer. She did the job, but that was all she’d done that summer. Work and sleep. She had immense respect for fishermen.

She eased farther away from him, not that there was much room in her tiny kitchen. Tiny kitchen, tiny house and in her parents’ backyard. Her parents meant well, but she was too old for them to be monitoring her every move. Her mother was likely wondering right this minute what Dusty was doing there so late in the evening. Teressa closed her eyes. Wait until she found out. There was a scene she refused to think about until absolutely necessary.

But she had bigger problems to deal with at the moment. First, she had to keep enough distance between her and Dusty so at the very least, she couldn’t smell his scent of clean soap and ocean and wind. She could become addicted to that smell if she let herself.

And second, she needed to save him from his good intentions. Dusty had an active imagination and left to himself, he’d...heaven knows, decide marriage was the answer to their problems? She needed to hang on to the small bit of independence she still had, because she refused to become that poor woman Dusty Carson saved.

She smiled across the kitchen at him. “We’re friends, Dusty. Good friends. Let’s leave it at that.”

The stress lines that bracketed his mouth softened. “I would if I thought that would be okay, but living here isn’t going to work, and you know it. Your mother is going to have a fit when she hears you’re pregnant again,” he said before she could brush off his concern. “And the house is too small. You’re going to have to move somewhere, and I’ve got a house big enough for all of us. It just needs some work. Which I’m doing,” he added in a louder voice when she opened her mouth. “And where else is there to move to in this village? If you and the kids move in with me, everyone’s happy.”

“Everyone? Really?” What about them as a couple? “This isn’t one of your larks, Dusty. If I ever decide to live with someone, it’s going to be because I can’t live without them. For now I’m fine right where I am. I appreciate that you want to ‘fix’ things, but living together will only make matters worse.”

“You mean I’ll make things worse.”

“It’s not easy living with children, because they have to come first. Always. It’s not like you didn’t have a life before this. Have you given any thought to what you’d be giving up by taking us in?”

He looked at the floor. “Sort of. Not really.” He sighed. “Maybe you’re right. But what about you? What do you want to happen?”

She studied the handsome man standing in her kitchen. She’d forgotten that he’d always been the peacekeeper in his family. But now he was considerate, as well. When had that happened?

She sighed. What did she want? How long had it been since someone asked her that question? And Dusty was right. She had to be practical; her family needed somewhere to live.

She still wasn’t certain Dusty was the answer to her problems. As a matter of fact, if she was certain about anything, it was that moving in with him would cause more problems than it would solve. But she should at least show him the courtesy of considering his offer. It couldn’t have been easy for him to come here tonight.

She sat at the table and motioned for him to do the same. “This is just a wish list, okay? I don’t expect anything.”

He nodded.

“I want a house big enough for my kids and me. But if I ever decided to move in with you, yours needs to be fixed up. I’m not being mean,” she rushed to explain, afraid she’d insulted him. “It’s just, your house is kind of...it needs help.”

“Yeah, I got that. And I’m already working on it. But I’m going to need your help. You have to tell me what to do. What colors you want the walls, that kind of thing.”

Unexpectedly, her nerve endings tingled with excitement. She’d lived in her parents’ house before moving a few feet away into their carriage house. She’d never had a place, not even an apartment, to call her own. Not that Dusty’s house would be hers. But she’d have some say in how to decorate her living space for the first time. That could be fun.

For heaven’s sake, talk about grasping at straws.

“Is that okay with you?” he asked, frowning.

“Yes.” Realizing he was doing all the giving here, she smiled for his benefit. “I’ve never had the chance to decorate before.”

He blazed a returning smile that turned her insides into mush. She blinked and looked away. She shouldn’t have smiled at him.

“I’ll be honest, Teressa. I don’t have tons of money, so the house won’t be as fancy as Cal and Anita’s. But I’ve got some. Like if you want to buy a new stove and stuff. We could do that.”

Oh, hell. He was going to do his nice-guy act, the one that made her temporarily forget how irresponsible he was. Like the time he’d promised to help her paint the table and chairs in the café, then blew her off when an old girlfriend showed up. She and Dusty had been having one of their good days, teasing each other and laughing a lot while painting the chairs outside in the sunlight when a petite, perfectly put-together blonde chased Dusty down at the café. The blonde had fluttered her fake eyelashes once at him, and he was gone. He hadn’t even apologized for leaving her with a half-finished job.

She needed time to think things over. It was too much of a gamble to trust her heart—or those of her children—to him, and she knew better than to depend on anyone too much. Hadn’t she learned over and over again that way led to heartbreak?

She hadn’t been in love with either Sarah or Brendon’s fathers, but she’d been willing to try with Corey, Sarah’s dad. Until she realized Corey had no intention of giving up the parties and settling down. At twenty-two there was nothing more boring than watching people get drunk while you remain stone-cold sober. Was that going to be a problem with Dusty, too? Everyone knew how much he loved to party. Why did she have to fall for the good-time guys? Why couldn’t she have dated an accountant?

“Let’s put the housing issue on hold for now. Like I said, we’re fine here at the moment. We need to talk about our relationship.” She darted a look at his face as it hardened.

He leaned back and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Okay.”

“Can we...can we take it slow for a while. See how things go?”

“You mean no sex.”

She nodded. Was that what she meant? She wasn’t sure.

“Do I get a say in this?”

She scratched at a nonexistent spot on the kitchen table. “Not really.”

“You’re not attracted to me?”

She couldn’t hold back her smile. Life would be easier if she could lie to him and say she wasn’t. “That’s not the problem. It’s just...sex complicates things, and with the children involved, I think we should take everything slowly.”

“So that means we could possibly have sex in the future.”

“Something like that.”

“Okay.”

She sat up straighter. That had been an easier win than she’d expected. “Who have you been having sex with?” It hadn’t occurred to her that Dusty might have a girlfriend stashed away in the city, but it made perfect sense. He was a good-looking guy and fun to be with most of the time.

“There’s no one else.”

Right now. The words stood between them.

She watched him carefully for a telltale sign that he was lying, but he continued looking at her with a straight expression on his face. Right now was a start, she supposed.

“I’ve got a request,” he said.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“We have a date once a week.”

“A date?”

“Yeah. Once a week, you and me spend time together alone. Like go out to dinner. Or rent a movie and stay home and watch it together. Alone.”

“What about the kids?”

“We’ll find a babysitter.”

She searched for the problem or hidden agenda and came up empty. “Okay.”

“And you gotta wear sexy underwear every day.”

She half rose out of her chair. “What?”

Dusty grinned. “I don’t have to see it if you don’t want. But I like imagining you wearing lacy things under your clothes.” He glanced at her from under his lashes. “I always have.”

Heat spiked through her as she held on to her chair with both hands. How was she supposed to respond to a request like that?

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “I don’t have any sexy underwear. I’ll be wearing a nursing bra in a few months, for Pete’s sake.”

Dusty made a low humming sound as his gaze flicked over her breasts. A blush burned a path right up into her hairline.

“Forget it. All of it. Go home. Now.” She pointed a shaky finger at the door.

He caught her finger, kissed the tip and laughed. “Come on, you’re tougher than that. What else is on your wish list?”

If only he knew how vulnerable she was when it came to him. She didn’t feel nearly as tough as she needed to be. “My wish list.” She massaged her temple. “I’d love to have a few minutes every day to myself.”

“Like when you come home from work?”

“Exactly. I’d love to be able to sit down and do nothing for say, fifteen minutes. Just...sit.” She leaned forward. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.” He looked down at the table. “I know this probably sounds corny, but I guess I want you to be happy. I know our situation isn’t ideal, but I assume from the way you’re talking you want to keep the baby. Who knows? Maybe we’ll surprise each other.”

He sounded so sad. Not at all like the Dusty she knew. She looked away and stuffed her knuckles in her mouth, the urge to cry overwhelming. She was all messed up in her head and her heart, but she’d never intended to hurt Dusty.

“I want you to know I’m very fond of you, Dusty.”

He patted her hand and took it into his. “I care about you, too. We’re going to be all right, Teressa.”

She blinked back tears. “I hope so.” She leaned across the table and kissed him. If she wasn’t careful, she’d end up as just another in the long line of broken hearts Dusty had left behind him.

CHAPTER THREE

DUSTY SCRUBBED AWAY the residue of a hard day’s work. It was an unseasonably warm day for November, and he’d overdressed, anticipating a biting north wind. Instead, he’d spent the day sweating and stripping away one layer of clothing after another. Not much he could do about his underwear, though. His deck hands, Josh and Andy, had teased him about his red long johns.

He and Teressa had managed to keep the news about her pregnancy a semisecret for two days now. Semi because his family knew about it, but Teressa had begged for a few more days before she broke the news to her mother.

Mrs. Wilder was a gnarly person to handle. He didn’t know exactly what her problem was, other than she looked as if she had a broom handle stuck up her... Hell, he had to stop thinking like an adolescent, especially about the grandmother of his child. But there was no denying she was a bitter woman. He didn’t remember her being uptight when he was a kid, but kids saw the world differently than adults.

For the past two nights he’d worked hard emptying his house of anything that absolutely didn’t need to be there. It looked empty and rough at the moment, but slap down some new flooring and a fresh coat of paint on the walls and things would start to come together. That’s what he kept telling himself. Where he’d find the time to accomplish all that, he had no idea. Because regardless of what Teressa said about how she was fine where she was, eventually she was going to need a bigger place, and houses didn’t come up for sale all that often in Collina. Plus now that he’d started working on his house, he was getting into the renovations in a big way.

As soon as he ate, he planned to head over to Teressa’s to nail down a time that they could go to Lancaster together to buy some paint. His bank account already had a huge dent in it, because Cal had purchased a bunch of building and plumbing supplies. Good thing Dusty had a solid line of credit, and that it was one of the better fishing seasons. If he was careful, he might almost pull this off. Although Teressa had been pretty clear on not moving in with him, the fact was her place would be too small once the baby came, and he thought he should at least offer her the option of moving in with him. He gulped for air. It was the right thing to do. No matter how many times he repeated that thought to himself, it didn’t get any easier to swallow.

Dusty heard a knock on the door as he stepped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stuck his head out into the hallway that led to the kitchen. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“No hurry, son. You’ve done a lot of work the past few days.”

His father, Pops. The man he most admired in the whole world. Cal had given Pops the lowdown, and Dusty had talked to him briefly on the phone, but he hadn’t heard from his father since. He grabbed a fresh pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pulled them on and ran a hand through his wet hair as he hurried down the hallway.

“There you are.” Pops eyed him. “Good day on the water?”

“Great. You should come out with me before the weather changes.” His father had fished for years before he sold Dusty the boat and his quota for lobster. More and more these days, quotas were going to outsiders and not always by choice. Dusty considered himself lucky to be able to buy his father’s business, when not so many years ago, it had been a given that a son, not a stranger, would take over the business.

Pops smiled. “Can’t say I haven’t thought of going.”

Pops took his time studying the carnage he and Adam and Cal had wrought the past two nights. The floors were stripped down to the subfloor and the icky wallpaper in the living room—did people really choose to have roses on their walls?—had been pulled off in strips. His house was an open-concept with the kitchen and dining room one big room and the living room opening off both. The three bedrooms and the bathroom were clustered at the other end of the house. They hadn’t touched those yet.

“You’ve got a lot of work in front of you.”

“Yeah.” He sank onto an arm of his black leather couch, the sum of what he hoped to accomplish weighing down on him.

Pops came over and put his hand on Dusty’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Dusty. I know neither you nor Teressa are ready to live together yet, but I think it was important to let her know she can move here if she wants to. It would be a big adjustment for you, and it couldn’t have been easy to offer her your home.”

They both knew that was the understatement of the year. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad.”

Pops’s face lit up. “Can’t say I’m disappointed. I’ve been waiting on a grandchild for a long time now. I never thought you’d be the first, though.”

Dusty laughed. “Me, neither.”

“Having a child, that’s nothing short of a miracle. You’ll see.”

“And having three kids?” Might as well get that elephant off his chest.

“I brought up three kids single-handedly, and even if I do say it myself, I think I did a damned fine job. You’ll do fine, too. The thing about having kids? You only get to live the experience a day at a time. When you’re feeling overwhelmed, remember that. All you have to do is get through the day.”

“And then you get to do it all over again the next day.” Pops’s advice wasn’t helping.

“See? There you go, getting ahead of yourself. Just concentrate on today.”

Pops wandered around the living room and looked out the window. “Cal says he’s busy with the Tolster job. He can only help you part-time.”

“I can’t let him do all that work for free, and I can only afford him part-time. Adam’s been a big help so far, and I plan to work evenings.”

“Your mate, Josh, he’s handy with a hammer. He built his own house.”

“He did a good job, too. But I’m working on a budget, Pops. I guess I could remortgage the house once I get a few more things done, but I was hoping to keep the building expenses under control.” He looked at his hands, a tight knot in his chest. “I’m going to have a child to support.” The knot twisted into a sharp pain. He couldn’t breathe.

“That’s what I came by to talk to you about.” Pops pulled the ottoman in front of Dusty and sat. “I’ve got more money than I need after selling the café to Teressa and Sylvie and Adam.”

Dusty reared back. “No way. That’s your money. You need it.”

“Not all of it. I planned to put aside a healthy sum for each of you to inherit. I gave the family home to Sylvie, so why can’t I give you money? You need it. I don’t. I always said better to give with a warm hand than a cold heart. This way I get to enjoy watching you spend it.”

“I don’t know, Pops. I just... I never figured...” Goddamn it, he was not going to start blubbering in front of his father.

“I know you didn’t. That’s what makes giving you money all the more enjoyable. I talked to Muriel at the bank. She’s going to transfer fifty thousand into your account tomorrow. Maybe you can hire one or two carpenters to work during the day while you’re fishing. Buy a few appliances. Whatever. It’s yours to do with as you see fit.”

They both stood, and Dusty felt his father’s strong arms around him. A father’s hug—his father’s hugs were a wonderful thing. Would he be as good of a father as his own dad was? He had a lot to learn and a long way to go, but at least his family had his back. Could be, things wouldn’t be so bad.

* * *

TERESSA HELD HER arm protectively over her stomach as her mother’s words drilled into her.

“Can you not keep your legs closed to anyone? What are you, the village whore?” Her mother’s face flared fiery red, and she screeched loud enough that Teressa worried the children would hear, and if they could, would they understand the foul words that were coming out of their grandmother’s mouth? She’d known breaking the news to her mother was going to be bad, but she hadn’t anticipated the depth of Linda’s bitter disappointment.

“That’s uncalled for,” Teressa responded.

“Is it? What’s uncalled for is having a slut for a daughter.”

Teressa flinched, but refused to let her tears take over. Had she really thought something good might come out of her pregnancy? That for once in her life, she’d be happy? Or if not happy, content? Dusty had almost made her believe it was within her reach. But then she’d known Dusty had a glib tongue. What she’d do to feel his arms around her right now. She’d considered asking him to come over and support her while she told her mother about the pregnancy, but at the last moment decided against involving him. It had been a good call.

“Where do you think you’re going to live? You can’t stay here. It’s too small. The money I could have made renting this place out.”

“That’s not fair. I pay rent.”

Her mother snorted. “A portion of what it’s worth. You’ll have to move in with us. It’s the only solution.”

And eat crow for the rest of her life?

“We’re moving in with Dusty.” Oh, God, where had that come from? Now that she’d told her mother, she couldn’t take it back. Dusty had looked so relieved when she’d turned down his offer to move into his house.

“You can’t think a decent man like Dusty is going to put up with you for long. He’s not stupid, Teressa. No man wants used goods, and someone else’s children to boot.”

Teressa sagged. Hadn’t the very same thought plagued her continuously? What happened when Dusty woke up to the fact that this wasn’t one of his wild romps? That she and her children weren’t going to disappear? But she’d be damned if she’d admit her fears to her mother. The woman would feast on them like a starving vulture.

“I guess that’s something Dusty and I will have to discuss.”

Her mother’s voice peaked into an even sharper screech. “I won’t have my child and grandchildren treated like charity cases. It’s bad enough everyone knows you’re a slut. You’ll move in with us. That’s the end of it.”

“I’d rather live in a shelter than live with you.”

Linda’s hand connected with Teressa’s face at the same time the outside door opened. Tears that Teressa had held in check spilled over when she saw the horror stamped on Dusty’s face as he stood in the doorway. She hadn’t wanted him to bear witness to any of the ugliness her mother directed at her. The woman had just straight-out called her own daughter a slut. Which was totally unfair.

Everyone froze. Linda looked horror-struck at being caught in a violent act. Teressa could hear Dusty’s heavy breathing. He sounded like a bull about to charge.

“What the hell is this?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Linda thinks the children and I should move in with her and Dad.”

He narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare at her mother. “Not going to happen. She’s moving in with me.”

“Why would you want someone like her to live with you?” A sly look crossed Linda’s face. “Oh, of course. Because everyone knows my daughter puts out.”

“Mother! Stop.” She was going to die from embarrassment on the spot. Her own mother talking about her like that. Did Dusty think the same thing? What if Linda was right? What if she had no worth? Maybe she should admit defeat now rather than wait for the inevitable crash to happen. That Dusty would someday think the same thing was devastating.

A vein pulsed in Dusty’s jaw. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as if he didn’t trust what would come out. Finally he swallowed and tried again. “Your daughter is ten times the woman you are.” He opened the door. “We’re finished here.”

Teressa choked back her tears. No one had ever defended her before, not even her own father.

“You can’t kick me out of my own place,” Linda protested.

“If Teressa’s paying rent, I can.”

A look of triumph stretched the skin tight on Linda’s face. “There’s no formal rental agreement. She has no rights.”

“It’s okay, Dusty.” She tugged on his arm. “I’ll handle this.”

He finally looked her full in the face, and his anger blasted over her. “It’s not okay. Go pack whatever you and the kids need for a couple of days. You’re moving to my place tonight.”

He turned to Linda. “We’ll be back tomorrow to get everything else.

“Come on, Teressa.” He took her by the arm and led her down the hallway. “Let me help.”

Teressa’s heart broke, and broke again when they stumbled into the children’s room to find Sarah hugging her baby brother. Tears rolled down Sarah’s cheeks and Brendon watched her with round, frightened eyes. She felt Dusty hesitate before he continued onto the bed where both children cuddled. If she had been in his shoes, she honestly couldn’t say that she wouldn’t have turned and run out the door.

She sat and gathered her babies into her arms, rocking them back and forth. She knew they both needed a minute to overcome the rush of relief they probably felt at seeing that she was okay. This was not the first time she and her mother had come to blows.

She felt broken inside. If she moved too fast or breathed too hard, she’d shatter. Not only because her mother hated her, but also because Dusty had witnessed Linda’s disdain for her. What if he thought the same thing, that she didn’t deserve respect? “Mama, are you hurt?” Brendon patted her cheek where her mother had hit her. She should have gone to the washroom first to check if Linda had left any marks.

She hugged her son closer. “I’m okay, baby. Your grandmother was upset. She didn’t mean anything.”

“If you point me in the direction of your suitcases, I’ll start packing things,” Dusty said in a low voice, as if afraid to upset the delicate balance in the room.

She blushed, amazed she could find something else to be embarrassed about. “We don’t have any. There’s a couple of cloth bags in the hall closet, and there are garbage bags.” She smiled wanly. “We never go anywhere.”

She could tell by the way the vein in his jaw jumped that he was clenching his teeth again. “Garbage bags it is.”

“Are we really moving to Dusty’s house?” The fear on Sarah’s face was replaced by curiosity. Brendon crawled up on her lap, his thumb in his mouth.

“Yes.” As if a window had opened, her spirits lightened a bit.

“What’s it like there?”

A mess. She sighed and ran her hand through her son’s sleep-mussed hair. “It’s bigger than this place. I’m not sure, but you may each get your own bedroom. Maybe not right away, because the house needs to be fixed.”

Sarah stood up on the bed. “I can help him fix it. I got my hammer and saw.”

“Perfect. Okay, we have to figure out what you need for tonight and tomorrow, and then we’ll go to Dusty’s.”

“I hope I like it there.” Sarah climbed down off the bed and headed for the shelves that held her toys.

“Me, too.” Brendon drooled, a beatific smile lighting up his face.

Teressa held her baby to her chest and kissed the top of his head. “Me, too,” she whispered.

An hour later, her hands shaking on the steering wheel of her old minivan, Teressa and the children followed Dusty’s truck. She was leaving home. Really leaving. She wasn’t sure what she felt. Excited? Maybe. Definitely scared. What if Dusty decided he didn’t really want them? Nice went only so far, and then there was reality. He had to be as scared as she was right now.

There had always been a push and pull between her and Linda, and yes, from now on she was Linda, not Mother. Linda was headstrong, wanted things done her way, and she... Dear God, was she really like her mother?

She’d complained nonstop the whole time Sylvie had been remodeling the café a few months ago, not that it had made any difference. At least she’d been big enough to admit to Sylvie that she’d been wrong, something Linda would never do. People loved coming to the café now. They’d liked it before, but now they loved it, because Sylvie had painted the constantly changing wall mural on the back wall that chronicled their lives, and installed Wi-Fi and comfy chairs surrounded by stacks of books and newspapers. Sylvie nourished their minds and Teressa nourished their bodies with good food. So maybe there was still a chance that she hadn’t grown as rigid in her opinions as her mother.

She’d had to toughen up quickly when she’d gotten pregnant with Sarah. Lots of women had children by the time they were twenty-two, but she hadn’t been prepared for suddenly being cut out of the small social scene in the village. Although having Sarah had helped compensate for almost everything she’d lost.

She glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed Brendon’s eyes were closed. Please let him stay asleep. Sarah looked wide-awake, her gaze glued to Teressa’s reflection in the mirror, as if afraid that if she took her eyes off her mother she might disappear.

“Hey, honey bun. Are you okay?”

“Grammy hit you,” she whispered, her eyes round with disbelief.

How to put a positive spin on that? She’d hoped Sarah and Brendon had somehow missed that bit. “Sometimes when people are angry they say or do things they don’t mean.”

“Why are we going to Dusty’s house?”

Great question. Her daughter was nothing short of brilliant. “Because Dusty’s a good friend, and he wants us to live with him for a while.” All true. She’d wanted to delay the news of having another baby sister or brother until her first trimester was over.

“Is he going to be our daddy now?”

Teressa groaned. How did life get so complicated? “Corey’s your father, Sarah.”

Sarah pushed against the back of the seat in front of her. “I like Dusty better.”

So did Teressa. She hadn’t heard from Corey for two years since he’d gone out west to work. His parents were dead, and he only had one brother, who moved around a lot, as well. She had no idea how to locate either one. Corey wasn’t a bad person, but neither had he been interested in being a dad. A few months after Sarah was born, he left and had come back only a couple of times to say hello. As for any financial support, it was hard to tap someone’s pocketbook when you didn’t know where to find them. Corey had been a fun guy, and he loved the good times and the parties.

Much like Dusty.

She blinked back tears. She was setting herself up for another fall, wasn’t she? Only this time she had two—make that three—kids to drag down with her. She should turn the car around and go...anywhere but Dusty’s. She clicked on the turn signal and pulled into his driveway. Maybe tomorrow she’d find somewhere else to live. Except she knew as well as Dusty that the only homes available to rent were drafty summer houses that were impossible to heat. She was backed into a corner with no way out. God, she hated her life.

* * *

DUSTY CLIMBED OUT of his truck and welcomed the cold as he waited for Teressa. He’d never in his life wanted to hit a woman before, but he was ashamed to admit he’d come close tonight. What kind of mother talked to her daughter that way? It burned a hole in his gut wondering how long Teressa had been putting up with that crap.

Collina was a small village, and if Teressa had ever been promiscuous, he’d never heard about it. And he’d always paid attention when the gossip involved her. He had no patience for the women-are-sluts, guys-are-studs bullshit. People were people, and normal people needed sex.

He leaned against the truck fender and crossed his ankles. Okay, so he hadn’t liked it when she went out with Corey, but he’d been dating... He frowned and tried to recall who he’d been dating at the time. Patricia? Sherry? Point was, he wasn’t a saint. But when she got pregnant... Yeah. Whole different ballgame. As far as he knew, Teressa had only had two boyfriends, and Stan, Brendon’s father, had been more a bad idea than a boyfriend.

The point was Mrs. Wilder had no business talking to her daughter that way. Teressa was a good mom and a good woman. Earlier tonight, when her mother had bad-mouthed her, Dusty had watched something die in Teressa’s eyes. She seemed to shrink right in front of him. That was so wrong. She worked hard to keep her little family together and to make a success of the café. He knew she’d always wanted to be a chef somewhere fancy, but he rarely heard her complain about being head cook at his family’s café.

He’d been so proud of her a couple of months ago, about the same time their child had been conceived, when she’d managed to come up with the funds to buy a third share of the café. Adam had decided to buy in to the deal as the second partner, but then Sylvie realized she needed to hold on to a part of the café that had been originally bought for their mother, and became the silent third partner. Dusty smirked. Silent, as in not working there daily. She was pretty damned vocal about her vision for the future of the café.

He straightened away from the truck and pulled up a smile as Teressa drove into the yard. She was going to have a fit when she saw the shape his house was in. He should have gone inside and tried to straighten stuff up.

“Want me to get Brendon?” he asked when she got out of the car.

“Could you carry Sarah instead? It’s dark out here and she’s heavier.”

“Sorry. I’ll get an outside light hooked up tomorrow.” Right after he renovated the entire house.

He leaned down into the car. “Hey, Sarah. How about a piggyback to the house?”

She looked at him suspiciously. “What’s a piggyback?”

“I’ll show you. You get out of the car, and I get down like this. Now, you put your arms around my neck, and up we go.” He grabbed her legs and pulled them around his waist. Sarah squealed as he stood, and she grabbed a handful of his hair.

“Look at me, Mommy.”

Teressa pulled out of the backseat with a sleeping Brendon in her arms. She gave her daughter a weary smile. “You have to let go of Dusty’s hair, honey, but hold tight to his neck.”

Sarah released her death grip on his head to clamp a tiny hand right on his larynx. Dusty tried to breath, but his throat was blocked. He galloped to the house, anxious to get her off his back.

He put her down as soon as he reached the back stoop, took her hand and went inside, switching on the kitchen light. Teressa followed on his heels. They stood, silent, surveying the gutted house. The cold, gutted house. He’d been so excited that Pops had given him money to work with that he’d forgotten to start a fire before going to Teressa’s to tell her the good news.

“I know it’s a mess,” he began. Sarah let go of his hand and slipped behind her mother. Teressa looked everywhere but at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

“We’re going to fix it up,” he said in a loud voice. “I’ve hired Josh to work on the house instead of coming out on the boat with me. Cal said he’d help when he could, and Adam will, too. And me, of course. And you.” He sent a silent plea to Teressa. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Of course it is,” Teressa said in a too bright voice. “Where are the bedrooms? Sarah and Brendon need to be in bed.”

He cleared his throat, feeling like a total loser. “Um...the bedrooms are crammed full of stuff right now. But I’ve got a king-size bed, and there’s lots of room for you and the kids.”

Teressa’s mouth hung open. “I’ll sleep out here,” he said and waved vaguely around the living room. “Just let me change the sheets on my bed.” And pick up the dirty clothes he’d left on the floor after his shower. And, hell, that magazine Andy had given him as a joke for his birthday last month.

He left them standing in the middle of the living room, looking like shell-shocked refugees. What was he supposed to have done? He couldn’t leave them at Teressa’s mom’s, and the closest hotel open at this time of the year was sixty kilometers away.

You could have taken them home. Although his father had given the old family house to Sylvie, he still thought of the house as home. Sylvie was living with Adam in his tiny house next door to the family home, because they planned to start renovating the old house soon, if they hadn’t already.

The truth was he needed to take care of Teressa and the kids himself. Which was stupid and selfish and proved he hadn’t a clue what he was doing.

Sarah stood in the bedroom doorway, clutching her doll to her chest.

“Where’s your mother?”

“In the bathroom, crying.”

Hell. “Brendon?”

“He’s sleeping on the couch.” She stepped into the room. “You’re a bigger slob than Brendon.”

“I can change.” He tucked the edge of the bottom sheet under the mattress corner.

“How come Grammy hit Mommy?”

Because she was an evil witch. Dusty punched the pillow before he put it back on the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t know your grammy very well, but it’s wrong to hit people.”

“You hit that man at the bonfire.”

The annual bonfire, a couple months ago. He couldn’t remember if he’d hit the SOB who’d been sniffing around Teressa that night or not. He’d been so drunk he doubted he’d done any damage, and he’d been too embarrassed afterward to ask. He’d gotten the idea that he and Teressa were going to the bonfire together. Sort of like a couple. But she’d turned up with that tourist who’d been hanging around her, and when one of his buddies had passed Dusty the rum, he’d gotten a glow on.

No wonder Teressa wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of marrying him. At thirty-two, he still acted like a kid. He had to grow up fast.

“Are those your pajamas?” He threw the comforter over the clean bed.

“Yes.”

“Okay, climb in bed. I’ll get your brother.”

“What about Mommy?” she asked after crawling under the blankets. She looked so tiny in the middle of his bed.

“I’ll get her after you guys are settled.”

Two minutes later he carried Brendon to the bed and tucked the sleeping boy in beside his sister. “Is he supposed to go to the washroom or something?” The last thing he needed was kid pee on his expensive mattress.

“No, silly. He wears diapers at night.”

“Right. Okay. So, lights. Want them off or on?”

“Off, but leave the door open.”

He switched off the light and edged toward the door. “I’ll get your mom now.”

“Dusty?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re supposed to kiss us good-night.”

He felt a weird snick inside, almost as if something was clicking into place. He strode back to the bed, dropped a kiss on Sarah’s forehead, then leaned over her and kissed Brendon. “Good night, funny-face,” he said from the doorway.

Sarah giggled. “That’s not my name.”

Dusty smiled in the dark. “It is now.”

His smile slipped as he faced the closed bathroom door. He stared at it for a couple of minutes like the dumb idiot he was, then turned and walked back to the living room. Teressa had once told him she’d never caught a break in her life, and now here she was, stuck with him, a place she’d never wanted to be. He needed a beer.

He went to the kitchen, grabbed a beer and popped the lid. He didn’t know what to say to Teressa to make her feel better. Your mother’s a bitch, forget about her? Everything’s going to be okay? Was it? He and Teressa squabbled on a regular basis, and that was with not nearly as much at stake. He had feelings for her, but were they enough to sustain them through having a child together?

He took a swig of beer. And yeah, he resented that she had children with two other guys. She’d have been smarter if she’d hung out with him. Except he’d been busy with...Suzy? Julie? He was such a shit. How could he be mad at Teressa for doing exactly what he’d been doing at the time? He put his beer on the counter and called Sylvie to let her know what had happened and ask for a favor. When he hung up, he went back to the bathroom. He had to at least try to make Teressa feel better.

He knocked softly on the door. “You okay?”

“Um, yes, of course.” He heard her run the water in the sink.

“We need to talk, Teressa.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

He stared at the door, waiting for her to say something else. Something smart-ass, like she usually did. After a couple of minutes he went back to his beer in the kitchen. He was out of his depth, and he wished someone would give him a checklist. Crying woman locked in bathroom—break down door. Check. All that would do was wake up the kids.

He tensed when he heard the bathroom door open and close. It took a few minutes, but Teressa finally walked into the kitchen. Shuffled into the kitchen. Hell. He stuffed his hands in his pockets to stop from hauling her into his arms. Her eyes and nose were red from crying.

He and Teressa may have had their differences from time to time, but underneath all the stuff that went on between them, they were good friends. Teressa was a fighter, but her mother’s attack must have knocked her for sixty. And then, to come here to this mess.

“It’ll get better. I promise.”

She hugged herself. “Sure.”

“We’ll go to town tomorrow and pick up a few things. You have to start making a list of what we need. I mean, I know what building materials, but we’ll get a new stove and fridge, too. What else?”

She took a weary look around the kitchen. “What’s wrong with that stove? We don’t need to buy new. You can’t afford it, and neither can I.”

“The oven doesn’t work. What else do you need?”

She stuffed her hands into the sleeves of her faded pink dressing gown and hunched her shoulders. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to snap at her. He’d been meaning to get the oven fixed for months, but what did he need an oven for when he had a microwave?

“Hey.” He stepped into her space and waited until she looked at him. “It’s killing me, you acting like this. I need you to be fighting mad.”

“You hate when I argue with you.”

“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I like you just the way you are. Or the way you are most of the time. Spicy.” He raised his eyebrows up and down.

She glanced longingly at his beer. “Wish I could have one of those.”

He slapped a notepad and pen on the island in front of her. “Grocery list. We’ll pick up some food tomorrow, too. We’ll have to leave here by two.”

“I can’t. I’m working.”

“Adam said he’d cover for you, and Sylvie will babysit the kids. I need you to go to town with me, Teressa. There’s some business we need to take care of.”

“Like what?”

Oh, no. If he got into that, they’d be up all night arguing. Best to spring it on her at the last minute. “Stuff.” He finished his beer and put the empty on the counter. “If it’ll make it easier for you, I’ll quit drinking beer.”

A gleam sparked in her eyes. “You? Quit drinking? Now I’ve heard everything.”

“No biggie.”

She hooted with derision. Personally, he thought she was overreacting, but he let it go.

“Want to bet?” she challenged him.

He may not have liked the direction of the conversation, but at least Teressa was back in fighting form. This was familiar ground for them. They were always challenging each other over silly things.

“Absolutely. A hundred bucks says I can quit drinking anytime I want.”

“I don’t have a hundred dollars.”

His smile grew wider. “What have you got?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” He loved watching her face turn a rosy pink as she punched him on the arm. She knew him too well. “I’ll let you pick out the name for the baby.”

“Really?” He frowned. “That’s a big responsibility.”

“I didn’t say I’d agree to use it.”

“What about the last name?”

“What about it?”

“I’d like my child to have my last name.”

She shook her head. “That won’t work. Both Sarah and Brendon have Wilder as their last name. It’ll be too confusing if their brother or sister has a different one.”

“That sucks. I just assumed when I had kids they’d have my name.” It surprised him how much it bothered him.

A yawn caught him by surprise. Because he had to start work so early in the morning, he was usually in bed by now. “We’ll talk about the name thing again. I’m too tired to argue with you right now. I’ve got to grab my clothes and sleeping bag out of the bedroom. I’ll try not to wake you in the morning.”

“Dusty?”

He stopped and turned back to her. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. For everything. I know you must be freaking out about...well, everything. If this—” she swept her hand as if to include the room “—doesn’t work out, I’ll find somewhere else to live.”

For the first time since he’d walked into her house tonight, panic tiptoed up his spine. They both knew there was nowhere else for her to live in Collina, except with her parents, and if he had any say in the matter, that wasn’t going to happen. He’d move out and let them have the house if he had to. But he knew if he told her that, she was contrary enough to pack up and leave that night.

But truthfully, the prospect of her—and Sarah and Brendon—staying was just as scary. It was a helluva situation they’d dug themselves into.

“Pops says you only get to live your life a day at a time. How about we concentrate on getting through tomorrow?”

“It’s a place to start,” she agreed.

He hated the sad smile on her face, and to stop himself from hugging her, he busied himself picking up a pair of dirty socks he’d kicked off by the door earlier. They both could use a hug, but she looked so fragile right now, he didn’t dare touch her. Last time he’d done that, she’d gotten pregnant.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE NEXT EVENING, Teressa straightened in the passenger seat of Dusty’s truck and rubbed sleep from her eyes. She’d hardly slept a wink last night, her brain working overtime, much like a rat in a cage, trying to find a means of escape. She was grateful to Dusty for helping her, but she’d have preferred to rescue herself. Look what misery had come from depending on her parents. Her mother didn’t let an opportunity go by to remind her how much she’d helped her daughter. Teressa flat-out refused to be dependent on anyone ever again.

It was bad enough that at the moment she really had no alternative but to stay with Dusty. If he started in with the recriminations, she didn’t know what she’d do. It wasn’t as if she could run away from home. She didn’t have a home.

It helped knowing Dusty was a good man. They’d been friends for years and had always had this “thing” between them. Maybe if she hadn’t gotten pregnant with Sarah their relationship could have grown into something more. Brendon pretty much eliminated any possibility of that happening. But before she’d gotten pregnant with Sarah, she hadn’t planned on sticking around Collina, so even if she hadn’t had the kids, she and Dusty wouldn’t have happened. He belonged here, and he knew that, and that was one of the things she’d always liked about him. He knew exactly who he was.

And now she was living with her old friend and hated being so dependent on him. Dusty’s opinion meant more to her than almost anyone else’s in the village. She didn’t want him to think of her as a loser, although after that scene with Linda last night it was a little late to hope for anything close to respect from him.

She frowned when she realized they were in the parking lot of a bank, not the shopping mall as they’d planned. “How long will you be inside?” There was a Tim Hortons coffee shop across the street. Maybe she had time to pick up a couple of beverages.

Dusty released his seat belt. “I need you to come with me.”

She stilled. “Why?” Uh-oh. If his sigh was anything to go by, she wasn’t going to like his answer, and the last thing they needed was more stuff to fight about.

He draped his hands over the steering wheel and stared out the windshield. “We need to open a joint bank account. It’s the easiest way for us to pay the bills.”

She turned the idea over. “No.”

“It’s just so there’s money for food and...stuff. Whatever you need.”

She burrowed down in her seat.

“Look.” He finally turned to look at her. “I’ve got extra money right now to spend on the things we need for the house. You shouldn’t have to pay for repairs on my house, but you’ll probably be picking stuff up from time to time. And we have to buy food. I’m sure I eat the lion’s share of that. I’m just being practical. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

She clenched her teeth, willing away the ball of emotion stuck in her throat. She had no idea how to handle his casual generosity. Didn’t know if she wanted to handle it. “I’ve always taken care of myself.”

She felt the comforting weight of his hand on her head before he ran his fingers down through her hair. “I know you have. You’re amazing, how you always hold it together. But for now, this is the most practical way to cover our living costs. You can put money into the account whenever you want, okay?”

“I can’t do it. Sorry.” It was bad enough she had to move into his house like some kind of homeless woman. Her pride was still smarting from the shift of being independent to relying on Dusty’s goodwill for a roof over her and her babies’ heads. Her stomach had been queasy all day, and she didn’t think she could entirely blame that on morning sickness.

“Don’t take it personally, okay? I need to pay my own way. It’s bad enough I’m taking advantage of our friendship and living with you.”

He rolled his hand into a fist and tapped it on the steering wheel. “Pretty hard not to take that personally. I’m not good enough for you?”

She covered his hand with hers. “I don’t mean to hurt you, but I’m not budging on this. I need to maintain some control over my life. I’m not taking money from you.”

He gave a curt nod and backed out of the parking spot. “Have it your way.

“Remember the winter we were all into sliding on old man MacEachern’s hill, and I broke my Ziffy-Whomper sled?” he asked after driving a couple of blocks. “And even though you really wanted to be in the final race, you loaned me yours?”

Teressa smiled. “You won, too. I didn’t have a chance. I was too much of a lightweight.”

“You might have won. My point is, you let me use your sled, and I accepted your help.”

“It’s not the same. We were kids.”

“Okay, two years ago. Remember Tania-with-an-i?”

Teressa rolled her eyes. “Who could forget her?”

“I went out with her once, and she thought...I don’t know. That I was going to marry her. And you walked into the café with Sarah and Brendon and shoved Brendon into my arms and said something like, ‘Here’s your daddy.’” He laughed. “I never saw Tania-with-an-i again.”

Teressa scowled out the window. Was she another Tania-with-an-i, hanging on to Dusty when he wanted to be free?

“You don’t remember?” Dusty glanced at her.

“I remember.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You dated me once, too.”

“Come on. There’s no comparison. You’re Teressa.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, you’re...you’re a friend, for one thing.”

What every woman who took one look at Dusty and his muscles and blue eyes and blond hair wanted to be—a friend.

Dusty was doing what came naturally to him, being a good guy. How long before he started to resent her and the children? Started? Boy was she in la-la land. He had to have resented her the minute he found out she was pregnant.

“My point is,” he persisted, “friends help friends.”

“I got your point, Dusty. I’m not taking your money. But thank you,” she added after a minute.

They drove the rest of the way to the mall in silence and went straight to the appliance section of a large department store. She headed to the back of the display, where they kept last years’ models, but Dusty caught her hand in his and tugged her toward the front. “I like the flat-tops,” he said.

“They’re more expensive.”

“The old ones are harder to keep clean. Pick one of these.” He pointed to a line of midrange stoves.

Hmm. She ran her fingertips over the smooth ceramic top, tapped out a tune on the digital keypad. Against her will, a little thrill ran through her. She’d never owned a brand-new anything before. Deciding to get serious, she took her time examining each one and questioning the salesclerk. After the first ten minutes, Dusty wandered over to the flat-screen televisions, but she refused to make a decision without him at least looking at what she thought was the best buy. They ended up buying a stove, a refrigerator, a dryer and a bunk-bed set. He’d just bought a new washer and dishwasher in the summer. Against her protests—What did he need a second flat screen TV for? He had a gigantic one at home—he bought a smaller flat screen. She justified the purchases as things Dusty needed or wanted for his house anyway. Except for the bunk beds, but every house could use a set, right? And if she moved out, she’d buy them from him. Not that she mentioned her plan.

“I’m starving.” Dusty rubbed his stomach as they exited the store.

“I could eat. The question is where?” She looked around the food court attached to the mall. Nothing appealed to her.

“There’s a microbrewery over on Staples that’s supposed to serve good pub food.”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

He frowned at her and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “Right. No drinking. I forgot. Okay,” he said after a minute, “how about the new Thai restaurant on the waterfront? You like Thai food?”

She loved Thai food, but all the restaurants on the waterfront were expensive. She hunched her shoulders. “I’m not in the mood for an upscale dining experience tonight.”

He sent her a sideways glance. “Don’t suppose you’d let me take my friend out to dinner?”

Her stomach cramped with tension. Living with Dusty wasn’t going to work. She didn’t want to be taken care of. If she had to be in a relationship, she wanted to be an equal partner.

“Pizza it is, then,” he said when she remained silent.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

“Right.” By his tense reply she could tell he was fed up. Who could blame him? He’d been a goddamn prince.

“Would you feel comfortable if a woman paid all your expenses and let you move into her house?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I wish.”

“Really?”

He stopped at the red light and looked over at her. “I get your point. You don’t want anything from me.”

She lowered her chin. “That’s not it, either.”

“Then what the hell is your problem?” A car beeped behind them, and he drove through the intersection.

“My problem is I’ll never be able to pay you back, because for the next twenty years or so, all my extra money will go to raising my children,” she yelled. “And I can’t stand things not being equal between us. I want to be my own woman, live in my own house and pay my own bills.”

“Fine.” He pulled into the restaurant parking lot and jerked on the emergency brake after turning off the truck. “You can start by paying for the pizza tonight, and I want an eighteen-inch.” He climbed out and walked into the pizzeria, leaving her sitting alone in the dark.

She stared out the windshield. That went well. Not. She had to get a grip. She wasn’t the only one making a huge adjustment. Dusty’s life had been turned upside down, as well. Truth was he was taking the harder hit of the two. She had to lighten up, and she had to start thinking of him. She slipped out of the truck. After they ate, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

“I hope you didn’t order anchovies.” She slipped into the booth across the table from him.

“Pepperoni, green peppers, mushrooms and black olives,” he said.

She grinned. “You remembered.”

“No, that was for me. What did you want?”

“Ha-ha.” She opened the menu. “I might order a salad, too. I haven’t eaten anything green today.”

“You threw out the last of Adam’s pea soup?”

“Oh, gag. Don’t remind me.” Adam had discovered pea soup, and in his enthusiasm had made far more than any living soul could consume in a lifetime. Every time she turned around, pea soup kept showing up as the lunch special. “Truth is, I did throw it out.”

“No way. He thinks it got eaten. He even said he thought he should make another batch.”

Teressa laughed. “I know. I didn’t want to tell him I raided the freezer and chucked the last twenty gallons out, but I may have to if he insists on making more.”

Dusty leaned back in his seat. “You two work together well, don’t you?”

The waitress brought the water and coffee Dusty had ordered, and Teressa ordered a garden salad.

“Yes, we do,” she answered when the waitress left. “I like Adam a lot. Your sister is a lucky woman.”

“Yeah.” He looked out the window as if the cars driving by were far more interesting than anything she had to say. No surprise he found her a boring dinner date. She spent most of her time divided between barking out orders in the café kitchen and playing with her kids.

“I have one more store I need to go to before we do the grocery shopping.”

“Sure. Anything you need.”

The food arrived, and they busied themselves with filling their plates and eating the first piece of pizza without talking. The longer Dusty remained silent, the more Teressa fidgeted. It had always been so easy to talk to him before. She’d never have imagined they’d run out of things to talk about.

Desperately, she searched for something they could discuss. “We need to figure out the bedrooms. I guess we can put the kids together for a while longer, and I’ll take the smallest bedroom. My bed should fit into it.”

His face closed down even more. “If that’s what you want.”

“I need to get the kids settled as soon as possible,” she explained. “They need to have their toys and books and things around them.”

“We can clean out one of the bedrooms tonight and set it up for them,” he offered.

“We’ll put all the stuff from that room into the small bedroom. I’ll sleep on the couch in the living room, and you can have your bed back.”

When he got a stubborn look on his face, she put up her hand. “You’re fishing, Dusty. You need your sleep.”

“You’re working at the café and looking after your children. You need yours.”

“Fine.” She picked a green pepper off her pizza. “When you get up, I’ll crawl into your bed and catch another few hours of sleep.” She shivered, thinking of how delicious it would feel to crawl into Dusty’s still-warm bed.

“We’ll get that second bedroom cleaned out as soon as we can. Most of the stuff is from the kitchen and living room because we were going to tackle those rooms first.”

“I still think that’s a good idea. We need a common living area.”

He took another piece of pizza. “Starting tomorrow Josh is going to be working on the house during the day. I thought he should begin with the flooring, but if you need him to work on something else, just let him know when he arrives.”

“I think the flooring is as good a place as any to start.” She bit her tongue. She made his place sound like a total disaster area. Which it was, but still... “I need to find a babysitter for the kids after school.”

She watched as Dusty’s eyes followed a waitress who was carrying a tray full of glasses of beer. Right. Not hard to tell what his priorities were.

“I’m sorry.” He turned to her. “What did you say?”

“I need a babysitter for the children after school,” she snapped. “Linda used to pick them up from school and watch them until I finished work.”

“I usually get in around four, but I’m going to be pretty busy working on the house.”

Tears ambushed her for the hundredth time that day. She didn’t remember feeling this emotional when she was pregnant with Sarah or Brendon, and heaven knew her life had been a mess then, too, but for different reasons. She wasn’t turning into a drama queen, was she?

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed with the amount of details she had to sort out, she tossed her napkin on the table. “Let’s go.”

Dusty frowned. “But...we haven’t finished eating.”

“I want to go home.”

He sucked in his lips and signaled the waitress. What was it about him that undermined her defenses? She was a reasonably nice person to most people, but with Dusty she’d never been able to hide her feelings.

He leaned across the table. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” she wailed. “I’m sorry. Blame it on my unstable hormones.”

“Oh.” He sat back. “So, do those hormones flip around like that for the whole pregnancy?”

“Yes.”

“Right.” He sighed and looked toward the table that had ordered all the beer. “Carmen’s home. She called the other day. She’s looking for something to do while she’s here. She’d be good with the kids.”

Carmen Sheldrick. She’d always had a crush on Dusty. She was what? Twenty-five now? Tall, slender and firm of body likely. God, Teressa thought to herself. She was turning into a bitch. She had no right to be jealous.

“What’s she doing home?”

“I dunno. Didn’t she study something to do with working with kids? Early child...something or other. She told me, but I forget. You should give her a call.” He pulled out his cell phone and started scrolling. “I’ve got her cell number somewhere.”

Of course he did. Carmen would make sure he had her number. Teressa dug in her wallet for her only twenty and laid it on the table. When Dusty handed her his phone, she concentrated on what she’d say to Carmen, thankful that Dusty decided to go to the men’s room at the same time.

“Dusty! I knew you’d call.”

Teressa made a face at the phone. Did Carmen have to sound so smug? “Actually, it’s Teressa Wilder.”

She could almost hear Carmen shifting gears. “Oh. Dusty’s name came up on the call display.”

“That’s because I’m using his phone.” Carmen would have gotten there sooner or later, but Teressa wanted to get the call over with before Dusty returned. “I wanted to run something by you.”

Carmen was delighted to look after Sarah and Brendon for the few weeks she planned to be home, but she warned Teressa as soon as she got a proper job in the city she’d be leaving. She was not quite as enthusiastic when she learned Teressa was living at Dusty’s.

What Dusty and Carmen got up to was none of Teressa’s business. Or was it? Certainly, no one would fault her for complaining if Dusty started flirting with another woman. Strange. She’d never felt territorial about Dusty before, probably because there hadn’t been much point. She’d been stuck in baby-land, and he’d always looked as if he was enjoying the full benefits of bachelorhood.

Everyone would soon know the only reason they were together was because she was pregnant. And if she wasn’t pregnant, they wouldn’t be together, right? Or would they? Things had certainly heated up between them in the past couple of months, and they’d been enjoying each other’s company more frequently, almost as if they were a couple. It would have been interesting to see where their relationship would have gone if she hadn’t gotten pregnant.

Hoping to outrun her stupid thoughts, she stood and strode to the door to wait for Dusty. A minute later, he appeared by their table and frowned as he looked around the room for her. Her breath caught when his gaze landed on her, and his face lit up. She might be pregnant and twenty-eight and a little saggy, but there was still something between them. She’d hang on to that thought for now.

Although it went against her common sense to spend good money on lingerie for herself, she was determined to do something to please Dusty. Their relationship couldn’t all be about her. She had to give a little, too.

* * *

DUSTY WAS SURPRISED when Teressa insisted on visiting a lingerie store after the grocery shopping. They stashed the groceries in an insulated box in the back of his truck. Often when he was in town, he ended up staying the night and needed to lock things up.

He almost told Teressa they should skip the lingerie shopping because she looked so tired, but he couldn’t resist the thought of her wearing bits of lace under her usual shirts and jeans. He’d noticed that her beautiful breasts already looked a tad fuller. Her stomach was still flat, but it wouldn’t be long before she started to show. Because his baby was growing inside her. A wave of emotion he couldn’t identify—panic?—gripped him by the throat. He wasn’t used to dealing with...stuff. Feelings. Sure, sometimes he felt sad. Mostly happy, though, because face it, he had a pretty good life. He loved his work and loved his family, and if there were times when he felt a little lonely, well, that was what friends were for, right?

Life had been pretty much on an even keel for him for a long time until a few months ago when Pops’s heart attack had rocked his world. Then Sylvie moved home with a whole load of baggage that made him and Cal and Pops face the truth about his mom’s death. Adam showed up at the same time that Teressa started dating a guy who’d been hanging around on vacation. Man, he’d hated that guy. He shouldn’t have gotten so drunk, though, and tried to punch out the guy’s lights. Especially in front of the kids. He’d never handled her dating other guys too well, but hadn’t looked too hard for the reason why the thought of her with another man bothered him.

And now, this. More change. Scary change. But okay, too, in a way, because it was with Teressa, and despite all the stuff going on, he believed he and Tee would find a way to make everything work. Maybe not in a traditional way, but they respected each other enough that good things could happen. They just had to find a way that worked for them.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “Do I get to go with you to the store?”

“No. Yes. Do you want to?”

He glanced at her sideways and smiled. “What do you think?”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Flirt with me.”

“I love flirting with you.” His smile spread.

“Dusty!”

“What?” He pulled into a parking spot, killed the engine and draped his arm along the back of the seat. He was tired of tiptoeing around his attraction to her. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her the other night, and he wanted to kiss her again. Now. And later. And do other things, too.

“You promised we’d take things slowly.”

He slipped his hand from the back of the seat into the hair at the back of her neck. “We’re going into a store to buy you sexy underwear. I’m just trying to get us in the mood.”

“This is a bad idea.”

He shifted closer until his mouth hovered next to hers. “It’s a great idea. One of my best.” She smelled good enough to eat. Spicy, like cinnamon.

“Dusty?”

“Hmm?” He dropped a kiss on her jawline, followed it to her ear and found the sensitive spot below her ear he knew drove her crazy. He smiled to himself when he heard her hiss out a breath.

“Just one kiss, Tee, and then I’ll behave myself.” He slipped his hand inside her open jacket. She shifted sideways until her breast brushed against his hand. Not needing any more encouragement, he took the full weight of her breast in his hand and flicked his thumb over her nipple.

Teressa slid her hands around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. She kissed him as though she’d been waiting for him forever. He moaned into her mouth and dropped his hands to her hips to pick her up and put her in his lap. He cursed when his elbow hit the steering wheel, reminding him where they were.

“Holy mackerel, Teressa.” He pulled away from her, and then went back for a quick taste. “Where did that come from?”

She buried her face in the folds of his jacket.

“You okay?”

“A little embarrassed,” she said into his chest.

“Of what?”

“Of attacking you.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’ve got a hard-on that’s probably not going away until I...whatever. I got the dibs on being embarrassed around here.”

She peeked up at him. “You’re not upset?”

“You can attack me anytime you want. I’m good with that.” He grinned. “I am curious, though. You’re kind of running hot and cold.” He sat up straighter. “That’s hormones, too?”

“Yup.”

“You get horny when you’re pregnant?”

When Teressa pulled away from him and sat on her side of the cab, his arms felt empty. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that.”

“How would you put it, ’cause it felt like you were really into me for a minute.”

She straightened the front of her jacket, flipped her hair over her shoulder and finger-combed the long strands into place. “I get...urges. Strong urges.”

His grin spread across his face. “Really? I’ve heard of women eating lots of ice cream and stuff, but I’ve never heard about pregnant women feeling hot.”

“Stop it.” She swatted his arm. Guess the wave of hormones had crested. “It’s not a joke. It’s embarrassing. And FYI, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll never forgive you.”

“On one condition.” He knew he should wipe the stupid grin off his face, but he was having too much fun.

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

“Let me know when those hormones of yours get the upper hand. I’d be more than happy to help you out.”

“Everything’s a game to you, isn’t it?” She jerked open the door.

He immediately sobered. As usual, he’d pushed too far. “Sorry. I was just...trying to have a bit of fun.”

She looked at his crotch. “Are you decent enough to come into the store?”

He climbed out of the truck and adjusted the front of his jeans before pulling his coat closed. “I’m as decent as I’m going to get.”

And that was probably the crux of his and Teressa’s problems right there. He wasn’t good enough for Teressa and her children. She needed someone serious about life who would take care of her. He could barely take care of himself.

He followed her into the mall, blinking at the bright lights when they entered. He hated shopping, but it hadn’t been too bad tonight with Teressa. Strange, he’d never looked at it that way before, but he almost always felt good when he was with her. Not so much when she was mad at him, which happened more than he liked. So maybe he should smarten up and stop tormenting her. Make an effort to be more considerate.

“If you’re uncomfortable with me going in with you, I can meet you later.” There. See? He could play nice. He was dying to go into the lingerie store with Teressa, although she probably wouldn’t let him watch her try on any outfits or model anything for him.

“I’m not uncomfortable, but you might be. It’s a very...feminine place.”

“I’ve been in there before. I don’t mind it.”

Teressa sent him a sour look. Crap. Would he ever learn to keep his mouth closed?

“Just once,” he added. And winced.

“Do what you want.” Teressa flounced into the store, leaving him on his own.

What he wanted was to down three cold beers in a row, but he was almost certain that wasn’t what she’d meant. For sure he didn’t feel like going in the store now, which probably meant that was what he should do. Or maybe not. A guy hanging around a lingerie store probably made women nervous. Or something.

He sat on a bench outside the store, crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He should have told Teressa his favorite color was black—when it came to lingerie, that was. Imagining her wearing nothing but a couple of scraps of black lace was not a good idea. Not in public. He couldn’t believe she’d agreed to go along with his suggestion.

He shifted on the bench. Was she interested in pursuing the physical part of their relationship? Or... This was the kind of stuff that drove him nuts. In a lot of ways, he didn’t understand her, but in other ways he totally got her. Women generally mystified him, but the stakes always felt higher when it came to not understanding Teressa.

He’d been so ambushed by everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours, he hadn’t had a second to think about how he felt about the changes happening in his life. If he was being honest, he had to admit he didn’t look forward to going home to a crowded house at the end of a long hard day of working on the water. With so many people helping with the renos on the house it felt as though his life had been ripped wide open for everyone to look at and discuss.

Not that he had anything to hide. As a matter of fact, his life seemed to be so...ordinary there wasn’t much to talk about. When had he slowed down? Used to be if anyone was looking for excitement they’d give him a call, because he always had something on the go. But somehow the entire summer had passed without him even going out on a date, let alone chasing after some harebrained idea. Whatever happened to buying a small seaplane or, even better, one of those islands for sale farther up in the bay? And now it was too late. He was going to be a father and had responsibilities and couldn’t afford anything like that.

He hunched over on the bench, feeling as though someone had punched him in the gut. He was scared shitless, and he hadn’t even realized it until now. He needed...needed—

“You look green around the gills, sailor.” Teressa stood in front of him. “Guess what I’m wearing.” She wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

He took a calming breath and hooked a finger through her belt loop and pulled her close enough to stand between his legs. “Euclid.”

“What?”

“Our baby. If it’s a boy, let’s call it Euclid.”

She giggled. “No.”

His tense muscles relaxed, and he grinned. He didn’t hear her giggle often enough. “Euclid doesn’t work for you, huh?”

Her brown eyes sparked at him. “No. Sorry. Let’s go.”

“You going to show me what you’re wearing?”

“Not a chance, sailor.”

He hadn’t thought so. Didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine what she looked like in her new lingerie, though.

Teressa slipped her hand in his as they walked out of the mall, her bag of lingerie swinging in her other hand. “Every woman should buy something sexy for themselves once in a while. You wouldn’t believe how great it makes me feel, knowing what I’m wearing underneath. Thanks, Dusty.” She raised up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek when they reached the truck. “I’d forgotten how much fun you can be.”

He pointed the truck in the direction of home, feeling a hundred percent better than he had in the mall. He just had to keep reminding himself who he was having a baby with. He couldn’t imagine a time when he wouldn’t want to be with Teressa. Well, okay he could. Like when she was mad at him or in an ornery mood. But generally, he really liked hanging out with her.

“When are you going to put on a fashion show for me?” She’d acted like a young, carefree girl in the mall, and it made him realize for all her responsibilities and grown-up ways, Teressa was still a young woman.

“Never.”

“Seriously?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. If I parade around in front of you in my new underwear, you’re going to get all hot and bothered.”

“I do know how to control myself.”

She looked at him from the corner of her eye, as if she was uncertain of herself, or of them. “We’re supposed to be taking things slow, remember?”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “We will. I promise. I’m just yanking your chain.”

He settled in for the hour-long drive home as Teressa closed her eyes and nodded off to sleep. He usually hated driving home in the dark, but with Teressa beside him, it kind of felt cozy in the truck. And it hadn’t escaped his notice that he’d gone from extremely freaked out in the mall to having fun with her teasing him. When they were good together, they were really good.

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