Page 11 of My Fiancé's Brother 2

It seemed like a trick question, so my answer was hesitant. “Yes?”

“Do you think I’m not going to man up?”

Another trick question. I chose my words carefully. “You don’t want commitment or a baby.”

“No, I don’t, but I take responsibility for my actions.”

What did that even mean?

“Okay.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Of course,” I said automatically. Except I had no idea what I agreed to.

“So, when do you want to get married?”

First, my entire body washed cold. Then I burned so hot, that I was certain I was having a pregnancy hot flash. “Married?”

His focus on me was intense. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“Not that.”

“I’m getting the feeling we aren’t on the same page.”

“I’m not even sure I’m reading the same book.”

His flawless smile took my breath away. “The book is called, ‘I knocked you up, and now we get hitched.’”

“But you just told me you don’t want commitment or kids.”

“You seem a bit stuck on that fact.”

I squinted at the lights above the island for a long moment. “So you don’t want to get married. You don’t want to become a dad. But you think it's the right thing to do.”

“It is.”

“But that's a terrible reason to get married.”

“Well, it’s the only one we got.”

I turned and studied him. He was a tough-minded soldier who had resigned himself to the fact that he was heading for the box. He'd be on his knees, tied up and forced to listen to the soundtrack of a baby crying. He wouldn’t complain about it. He wouldn’t even allow himself to have feelings about it. In his mind, he was taking responsibility for his actions. He knew how to man up better than anyone else, and he'd never let me know what it cost him to do the right thing.

He'd be an incredible father. He'd be resolute in his duties. He'd help me parent this child. I wouldn’t be on my own. I’d be safe. The temptation to give into this was so great, my hands clenched in my lap. It’d be so easy to look the other way and ignore the immense personal cost he'd pay.

“No,” I blurted out. “We can’t.”

His green gaze studied me without expression. “You want to tell me why?”

“I just think it’s a bad idea.”

“What part?”

“All of it.”

“Be specific.”

Do not engage. Do not engage. My mind bleated panicked instructions at my mouth. His tone told me I was treading on dangerous territory here. I stared up at him.

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