Page 25 of The Rough Ride

His lungs seized. It better not’ve been her way of saying goodbye. That would be the ultimate insult.

The residual shock still pounded in his chest. Liz had a baby. While he was in Iraq.

What. The. Hell.

Guilt swamped him. She’d never hidden anything from him before. Did she lie because of his aversion to having kids? There had to be something very wrong in their relationship for her to hide a child. The baby had to mean the world to her in spite of his feelings.

But to hide it this long? There had to be more to the story, and dammit, he’d push until he knew everything. He took the last swig of wine and set his glass in the sink. No more drinks tonight. He rarely touched the stuff anyway. He needed food.

Remorse for the vasectomy he’d gotten at eighteen churned in his gut. His SOB of a father had reached out with his brutal fists and affected the one relationship Nick treasured. The bastard had no right to live beyond his unmarked prison grave.

The timer beeped, and he pulled the garlic bread out of the oven just as the sounds of a lullaby drifted from the baby monitor on a windowsill. For all of Liz’s talents, and there were many, she couldn’t carry a tune to save her life. Yet, the tenderness in her voice arrested his attention as he listened. His own mother had sung the very same lullaby to him, albeit with the voice of an angel.

But there was no mistaking the love in Liz’s less than perfect rendition. Her voice dripped with emotion. And while his own mother’s voice had trembled on the chorus if she heard his father’s footsteps downstairs, Liz’s cadence held none of the shaky fear or hurried ending that his mom’s voice had. He’d rather die than have his Liz afraid of him.

Surely, Ella’s father was contributing and not leaving it all to Liz and her mom. Nick scanned the dining room where the walls were neatly lined with baby equipment. He had no idea what half the stuff did, but the dad must be involved. That was good.

A bolt of searing regret rose in his chest. This was the one situation where he’d let Liz go if he had to. But if he ever heard fear in her voice, he’d kill the poacher with his bare hands.

He didn’t hear her footsteps as she came back into the kitchen.

“You must be starving. I invited you over for dinner and haven’t offered you a thing to eat. Let me fix you a plate.”

He turned around. “I can get my own plate. How ‘bout I fix one for you, too?”

She picked up the glass of wine Nick had poured and sipped. “Okay. A small one. It’s doubtful I’ll be able to get anything down, though.”

He set two plates on the table. “Just try. I know nothing about kids, but I’ve read that nursing mothers need to eat.” She didn’t look him in the eye.

She placed a napkin on her lap. “Yeah? Well, I’m still carrying around sixteen pounds that I gained during pregnancy. I think I can skip a meal here and there.” She stabbed a piece of beef and some noodles onto her fork and started to chew.

Ah—now he knew where those exquisite curves came from. He closed his eyes for several seconds.Don’t think about the curves.He remembered where he wanted this conversation to go. “Who is Ella’s father?”

She shrugged a shoulder and answered in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t know.”

He gave a brusque nod and sat back. “Elizabeth, that doesn’t sound like the woman I know. You plan everything. I’d really appreciate the truth.”

He had enough in his stomach now to quell the effects of the wine, pushed his plate away and leaned toward her. “Who is Ella’s father?”

Liz fidgeted with the cloth napkin in her lap. “Nick, I honestly don’t know for certain.”

He winced, moved his chair so they could face each other, and pried her hands from the vice grip she had on the napkin and took hold of them. “Look at me, babe.”

She heaved a breath as tears cascaded down her face. “Go easy on me, Nick. You have every right to feel like the injured party here, but this situation hasn’t been a slam-dunk for me.”

“Please, honey. We’ve always discussed everything eye-to-eye, no matter what. Until now, I can’t think of anything you’ve hidden from me. I know you like dark chocolate but it keeps you up at night, your political views, your favorite authors, the way you color coordinate your drawers and closet. For fuck’s sake, don’t hide from me on this one.”

She yanked her hands from his and stared him straight in the eyes. “I wish I wouldn’t have told you to date other women. Remember that fight we had on the phone right before I deployed to Iraq? You told me about the women you’d been dating and yelled about how you couldn’t tell if they wanted kids or not?”

He nodded. He didn’t remember thatexactdiscussion, but they’d had quite a few heated conversations after Paris about her insistence on an open relationship.

“After I got off the phone with you, I won $200 at the officer’s club in a dart tournament, and later that evening, Ijumped some guy’s bones because I was furious with you. It was awful. I wanted it to be you the whole time.”

Nick nodded. That story sounded familiar, like what he’d done a couple weeks ago with the bar honey. He forced the scowl off his face at the image of another man enjoying her body.

“The next morning at 0900 I was on a plane to Iraq. You and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other and hooked up in every closet, bunk, and laundry room we could find for the next couple weeks.” She drew in a huge, shuddering breath. “And then the minefield happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell your commanding officer you were pregnant? They would’ve never sent you off-site with that knowledge.”Why didn’t she tell him?

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