Little Secrets--Unexpectedly Pregnant Page 11

  “Open the door, honey,” Tyce said, stepping away and giving her an encouraging smile. “You’ve got this.”

  Sage shook her head. She really didn’t feel like she did.

  * * *

  Thank God, the first official, welcome-to-the-family-Lachlyn dinner was over and Sage could finally go home.

  She looked around the crowded hallway of The Den, thinking of so many other dinners they’d ended here in a flurry of goodbyes. Connor always stood to the left of the imposing front door, the last person they saw before leaving the house.

  Changes, Sage thought, yanking her coat belt tighter. God, she hated them.

  “If you pull that any tighter you’re going to cut off your air supply,” Tyce told her, putting his hand on hers.

  Sage, irritated, swatted his hand away. “I’ve been tying my coat for a while now.”

  “What is your problem?” Tyce asked, keeping his voice low. “You’ve been scratchy all evening.”

  Where to start? Instead of answering him, she looked around the hallway and swallowed the compressed ball of emotion in her throat. She’d barely had time to recover, to digest her meeting with Lachlyn this afternoon when Linc had sprung this family dinner on her, blithely explaining that he’d already sent Tyce an invitation and thereby taking the decision about inviting him to accompany her out of her hands.

  Would she have asked him? Probably not. After the meeting with Lachlyn, which had been emotional and difficult, she’d realized how easy it was to rely on Tyce’s steady presence and his strength. Counting on Tyce was a dangerous habit to slide into. He was her lover, sure, but she refused to fall in love with him and relying on him for anything other than help to raise their child was foolish. She was setting herself up for an almighty fall and that had to stop immediately.

  Having Tyce with her, in The Den, made her feel like they were imposters, acting a role. They were sleeping together; they were not in a relationship and she didn’t like all the side-eye she’d received from her family whenever Tyce put his arm around her shoulder and his hand on her knee. They were not a couple and he had no right to give her family the impression that they were.

  Sage looked around at the faces she loved best. Beck had his arms around Cady’s waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. Jaeger was holding Ty and Piper was tucked into his side. Tate’s hand was on Shaw’s head and Ellie was asleep, her beautiful face on Tate’s shoulder. Love streamed out of Tate’s eyes every time she looked at Linc.

  Oh, damn, every time she spent time with her brothers and their wives, she started to think that she might want the love they’d found. And that was the real source of her irritation. She started thinking about how it would feel to walk out of this house with her hand in Tyce’s, heading back to their place, content in the idea that they were creating a family within a family.

  Even if she was prepared to take a chance on love—she wasn’t but this was all hypothetical—Tyce wasn’t the man to give it to her.

  He didn’t want to immerse himself in a relationship like her brothers had; he didn’t want the day-to-day interactions, the ups and the downs. He wanted to be their baby’s father and, for as long as it worked between them, for them to sleep together. When that stopped, when the passion faded away, he would too.

  But the more time she spent with him, the more she was at risk of feeling more for him than she should, the more she wanted what her sisters-in-law had: a strong, sexy man standing at her side, ready to go to war for and with her.

  Too many mores, she thought.

  She had to readjust her thinking. Pronto.

  Sage looked at Lachlyn and saw that Linc had his arm around her shoulders. Her big brother was scooping another lost Ballantyne chick under his arm. It was what he did so why was her throat closing, why did she feel like she was being pushed out of her own family?

  Oh, God, how old was she? Thirteen?

  “I need to go home,” she muttered, walking toward the front door.

  “Sage, wait!” Linc said and Sage heard the note of excitement in his voice. Wondering what he was about to slap her with now, Sage briefly rested her forehead on the door before turning around. Linc stood on the first step of the staircase and Lachlyn, tiny and blonde, stood next to him.

  The hallway fell silent and Sage looked around at the faces she loved best. Sage darted a glance at Tyce and saw that his obsidian eyes were looking at her with a small frown. He seemed to be trying to look into her soul and she didn’t like it. He had no right to do that; his having access to her body didn’t mean that he was allowed to walk around her mind.

  She didn’t like any of it. Her world wasn’t just changing, it was morphing into something different right before her eyes and she had no control over what was happening.

  “So, as a welcome-to-the-family gift, Lachlyn,” Linc said, “we thought that you might like Connor’s favorite ring.”

  We? What we? She hadn’t been consulted about giving anything of Connor’s to Lachlyn! And his favorite ring? The one Sage and Connor had spent hours together designing and making since the bands of amber, pieces of an ancient meteorite and platinum, had required careful workmanship?

  What the hell?

  “He said that it was his all-time favorite ring,” Linc continued. “He designed and made it and wore it every day.”

  Excuse me? She’d spent as many hours on that ring as Connor had. Maybe more. Sage watched as Linc handed Lachlyn the ring and blinked back tears.

  So this was sharing, she thought. Her home, her brothers, the memories of her father. Frankly, it sucked.

  God, what a day. She’d had enough.

  Sage yanked open the door and stepped into the dark, tossing a cool, general good-night over her shoulder. She’d barely made it to the wrought iron gate when she felt Tyce take her hand. She immediately jerked her hand away and shoved it into her coat pocket.

  “I didn’t give her the ring, Sage.”

  “You brought her into our life,” Sage whipped back. Direct hit, she realized, but she took no pleasure in the color draining from his face, the danger sparking in his eyes.

  Tyce swallowed and looked away, and Sage knew that he was trying to control his temper. “I realize that this has been a tough day for you. It’s not easy having someone come into your life, your family, and turn it upside down.”

  “This is all your fault,” Sage said, her temper roiling and boiling. “You sought me out years ago as a way to connect with my family—”

  “I explained that,” Tyce said in a tight voice.

  “Then you slept with me and bought millions of Ballantyne shares.”

  “You slept with me too.”

  Sage ignored him and dived deeper into her anger, knowing that she was lobbing accusations at his head when she most wanted to yell at him for not being able to give her what her brothers gave their wives.

  Not that she could accept his love...

  Sage knew that she was being irrational and that he was a handy target. It wasn’t fair or right but if she didn’t vent, she’d explode.

  “Then you got me pregnant!” Sage shouted, her chest heaving.

  “You forgot to blame me for poverty, climate change and the price of oil,” Tyce said, gripping her biceps. He pulled in a slug of cold air and when he spoke his voice was calm. “Connor conceived Lachlyn so blame him. We are equally responsible for the pregnancy. This is all new, Sage, and you’re scared. I get it. We’re all picking our way through a minefield right now but yelling at each other isn’t going to help.

  “We’ve got to find a way to deal with this, with us, with the situation,” Tyce added.

  Sage desperately wanted to allow her tears to fall, to place her head against his chest and weep, taking strength from his arms. She wanted to kiss him, allow him to sweep her away from the here and now, to take her someplace where she didn’t have
to think of the baby, about the fact that she’d never have the emotional security that being in a committed relationship gave a person who was strong and brave enough to take that chance. She wasn’t strong and she wasn’t brave and she probably never would be.

  “Just give Lachlyn a chance. Give this situation a chance. Let life unfold and trust that we’ll all find our way.”

  Feeling sick and sad and still so very pissed off—anger was so much easier to deal with than fear—Sage lifted her chin and nailed Tyce with a sardonic look. “Get out of my head, Tyce. I never gave you permission to walk around in there. And keep your opinions about my family to yourself! You don’t know us and you don’t know what makes us tick. You don’t know jack about what having a real family means!”

  Tyce jerked his head back, clearly shocked. She couldn’t blame him; she sounded like a bitch on steroids. Her words had been designed to hurt and so unnecessary. Sage closed her eyes and held up her hand. Before she could apologize, Tyce turned around and started walking away.

  Crap. Sage reached out and grabbed his elbow and he stopped.

  “Tyce—”

  Tyce’s granite like expression killed the words in her throat. “I understand that you’ve had a rough day, Sage, but that doesn’t mean that I get to be your verbal punch bag. I lived with a mother who was far better at that than you are but, as an adult, I no longer have to take the hits.”

  Dammit, she’d really angered him but, worse, she knew that she’d also hurt him. God, she felt ugly.

  Tyce started to walk down the street, to the corner. “Where are you going?” Sage asked him.

  “I’ll hail a cab on the corner.” He gestured to the cab that had pulled up next to them a few minutes before. “You take this one.” Tyce nodded to her arm. “Your arm is fine and you don’t need me hanging around all the time. We could probably both do with some space.”

  Tyce opened the cab door and gestured her inside. “Go home, Sage. We’ll talk.” He pushed his hand into his hair, his face expressionless.

  “When?”

  Tyce’s smile held absolutely no warmth. “Oh, sometime between now and the baby’s birth. Because, you know, I’m just the guy who knows nothing about anything, especially family.”

  Tyce slammed the door closed and Sage looked at him through the wet window. He turned his back on her and walked away, his broad back ramrod straight.

  Sage felt a tear slide down her cheek and rested her temple on the glass of the window as the cab pulled away.

  Her anger had nothing to do with Tyce and everything to do with her issues and her insecurities. She’d lashed out at him, projecting all her unhappiness in his direction. Had it been another subconscious attempt to push him away?

  Probably, Sage admitted. But, because she’d been ugly and vicious and unfair, she’d hurt him. Sage felt humiliation and remorse roll through her.

  And more than a little self-disgust.

  Ten

  Heavy rock blasting through the bottom floor of the warehouse, Tyce pushed up his welding helmet and frowned at the flicker of lights that was his version of a doorbell. It was past ten on a cold March night and, since few people knew of this address or that he lived here, he had no idea who was leaning on his doorbell. Dropping his welding rod and whipping off his helmet, he shoved his hands through his hair and walked across the cold concrete floor toward the small side door that stood adjacent to the huge roller doors.

  Whipping the door open, he frowned at the small bundle of clothes stamping her feet on the sidewalk outside.

  All he could see was big eyes and a pink nose. “Sage? What the hell?”

  He opened the door wider and she hurried into the warehouse. She pulled her hands out of her pockets and started to unwind her scarf but he shook his head. “Upstairs. It’s a hell of a lot warmer up there than it is down here.”

  Sage took the hand he held out and he pulled her toward the steel staircase that led to the second floor, which he’d converted into an apartment. Once inside, he started to unwind her scarf and helped her shrug out of her coat. Sage kept her eyes on his face and he wondered if she’d hoofed it across the Brooklyn Bridge to continue fighting with him. God, he hoped not. He didn’t have the mental energy an argument required.

  Tyce tossed her coat and scarf onto the chair next to the door and watched as Sage walked over to his fireplace and put her hands out to the fake flames. She sighed, slim shoulders lifting and falling. She turned around slowly, her eyes miserable when they met his.

  Tyce tensed, waiting for the next blow to fall.

  “I’m sorry. I was ugly and irrational and you have every right to be angry with me.”

  Tyce rubbed his lower jaw, stunned. An apology was the one statement he hadn’t expected.

  “Change scares me. Losing control terrifies me. Meeting Lachlyn was difficult and then we had the dinner—”

  “You’re a gorgeous, successful woman. Why would meeting Lachlyn, who is as normal as can be, freak you out?”

  “I keep people at a distance and if I feel like there is a chance of them getting closer than I feel comfortable with, I get anxious. And stressed. And then, as you saw, I freak out.”

  So that explained a thing or two. “Did you pick a fight in an attempt to push me away too?”

  Sage nodded. “Yeah, probably. It’s what I do best.”

  For the first time, Tyce saw her as she truly was, stripped down. She wasn’t Sage, the Ballantyne princess or Sage, the wealthy, successful jewelry designer. She was just Sage, a woman who was facing incredible changes, whose life had been flipped upside down and inside out. Yeah, she’d been a bitch of epic proportions earlier but her insecurity, her churning emotion and her fears made her seem more real, more authentic.

  Humbled by her apology, touched by her honesty, Tyce ducked his head and slapped his mouth across hers. He heard her intake of breath, felt her fighting the instinct to pull back and to step away from him but when he gently suckled on her bottom lip she fell toward him. Tyce wrapped his arms around her and hauled her in. Through the silk and cotton of their T-shirts, he could feel her hard nipples digging into his pecs and air rushed from his chest. Needing to feel her skin while he explored her mouth, he pushed his hand beneath the band of her leggings and his knees nearly buckled when he held her round but firm bottom in his hand.

  He was kissing Sage and she was kissing him back, her tongue sliding into his mouth, tangling with his. Despite them making love frequently over the past two weeks, he still couldn’t quite believe that she was back in his bed and his life. Tyce pulled her into him, his fingers sliding into the space between her legs and he could feel the moist heat from her core flowing over his skin.

  She wanted him just as much as he wanted her and the thought made him feel as weak as a newborn and as strong as an ox. She was both his salvation and his destruction, his pleasure and his pain.

  And he wanted her with all the ferocity of a winter’s storm.

  But that didn’t mean that they should tumble into bed. They had a mountain to climb, a million words that they needed to exchange, issues to iron out. Their earlier fight was behind them and, now that he understood what fueled her anger, he found her humble and sincere apology easy to accept.

  But he still had something to say. Tyce pulled back and stepped away from her, knowing that there was no way he’d get this out if he was touching her.

  “Look, we’re going to be in each other’s lives for a long time—” he wanted to think forever and in every way possible but that wasn’t likely “—and we need to be each other’s best friends. That means being honest, about everything. If you feel sick or pissed off or overwhelmed, I want to know about it. And I’ll be as open as I can...” Tyce took a deep breath. “That being said, there is something I should tell you.”

  “Okay. What?”

  “This warehouse, it’s
all I have. I don’t have that much money in the bank.”

  Sage, genuinely, didn’t look like she cared. “Can I ask why?” she eventually asked. “You’re, like, the highest paid artist in the world.”

  “Those Ballantyne shares are expensive, Sage. I haven’t had much cash for the last couple of years. I’ve been living a lie. The Chelsea apartment? It’s owned by one of my biggest clients who allowed me to crash there.”

  “That explains the lack of art, the lack of anything personal,” Sage stated, looking remarkably sanguine. “I never liked that place. It wasn’t you.”

  Tyce almost smiled at that; she’d hit the nail on the head. It really wasn’t him. The real him was this place, redbrick and steel, a punch bag and a mat in the corner, welding machines and chain saws. It was comfortable couches and worn rugs. It was industrial Brooklyn, hard, masculine, gritty.

  Tyce thought of Sage’s girly loft. She was expensive gems and delicate designs. She was cream couches and soft beds, the wrought iron frame surrounding the bed dotted with tulle and fairy lights. She was expensive; he was functional.

  “I’m working on a couple of pieces that I’ll be able to sell in a month or two. I want to pay for the baby, your medical expenses to have the baby, for whatever you or the baby needs.” He held up his hand. Tyce knew that he could never compete with her wealth. It was stupid to try but he wanted to be able to, at the very least, provide the best for her and his baby. “I know that you can pay for it without my help but...I just want to, okay?”

  Sage nodded, her expression inscrutable. “Okay, we’ll work it out.” Sage sent him an uncertain smile. “So...are we good?”

  They were, very good indeed. In fact, he was starting to feel more than good, he felt fan-friggin-tastic. Tyce felt like they’d ripped down a couple of barriers between them, that their fights had flattened some obstacles between them. Or he could be feeling light-headed because he couldn’t stop looking at her, drinking her in. Demanding, a little crazy, warm, generous, funny, she was everything he’d ever wanted.