Shelter Me Home(19)

"Erin doesn't want me dating anyone. She has no jurisdiction over who I'm friends with, though."

She bit her lip against pointing out the man-eater shouldn't have  jurisdiction over his dating life either, but from their conversation  yesterday, his relationship with the mother of his child was about as  complicated as it got.

"Let me worry about her," he said in a persuasive voice. "What errands? You going to the doctor?"

"Dammit, Aanon. Don't you see? I've done this before with Miles. I was  in this forbidden relationship, and even if I didn't know it at the  time, I never want to do it again. I don't want to feel guilty when I'm  hanging out with you or wonder if someone will see us together in town  and tell Erin."

"Tell them what? That we're hanging out? I'm not trying to marry you, Farrah. You were the one who suggested we be friends."

"Yeah? Well that was when I thought I could trust you. You have a kid,  Aanon. And you have this really complicated relationship with his  mother, which you hid from me. I'm barely able to handle my own  situation right now. And I'm going shopping for maternity jeans because I  haven't been able to button my pants for three days." The last part  came out in a rush of admission. The baby was growing, and she needed to  start making decisions.                       
       
           



       

Where she'd thought surely Aanon would run for the hills at the threat  of shopping for pregnancy pants, a slow smile took his face instead. "I  think you'll have to drive to Homer for a pair of those."

Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure there is nowhere in Cooper Landing that sells those. Not much demand here."

"Fantastic. Can I borrow your truck? I'll fill it up with gas on my way back."

His grin stretched. "Well, me and Dodge need it today. We could give you a ride to Homer, though, if you want."

Tricky, tricky, tricky. She was actually impressed with his cleverness.  And nerve. Apparently, Aanon wasn't adept at taking hints.

"Fine," she muttered and stomped off toward the horse corral.

"Hey, don't worry about doing the rest of the work today. Me and Dodge will take care of it while you go get ready."

She would've thanked him if she weren't fuming that he'd invited himself  into her life. He was a perfect, self-sufficient, Alaskan man, who was  now apparently an awesome father, a trait she found eternally sexy. He  was also completely and utterly off limits. Weaseling his way into her  life and heart was disaster slathered in napalm.

She could see their collision course from a mile away. Why couldn't he?

Since the remainder of the chores would take Aanon longer with a  three-year-old in tow, she took the time to heat water for a bath, dry  her hair, then put on make-up by the warmth of the stove. With another  log on the fire, she eyed the small drawer of shirts. She washed her  garments once a week in the sudsy tub, and most of her clothes were  clean, but still, she hadn't much to choose from.

If she wore something bulky, like she usually did, she wouldn't be able  to see the fit of the maternity jeans as well, so she picked a green  sweater that hugged her curves. She threaded a rubber band through the  loophole of her jeans and tied it around the button, then turned in the  bathroom mirror. Her stomach definitely appeared to have popped. Though  she was only in the fourth month, and her stomach was still small, at  least it no longer looked like she'd just overindulged on a meal.

Rubbing her hands over the swell, she smiled. The first few months had  been hard with all of the nausea, but that had ebbed of late. She'd  always been rail thin and flat chested, but now she had new curves. Her  breasts were fuller, and the flattering shape of her figure was  something she shouldn't hide anymore. She was pregnant. So what?  Everyone in town already knew, and she was plenty old enough to be a  mother. And Dr. Jansen was right. She had a job and a safe place to  live. Why should she hide away for the rest of the pregnancy?

Pulling a pink scarf around her neck with matching mittens and toboggan,  she laced up her snow boots and threw her jacket over the crook of her  arm. Usually, she pulled her hair back when she worked, but today was  for fun. She rarely shopped, and even if it was for something necessary,  it would still be an adventure to travel to Homer. Her long tresses  lifted in the breeze outside as she locked her door. Normally, she  wouldn't bother, but Erin barging into her house uninvited had made her  uncomfortable. Sure, she was probably on some ritzy weekend boning that  jerk she'd driven in with and not thinking about robbing Farrah's eight  shirts out from under her, but still. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Wow, Fennel," Aanon said as she approached the truck. He was in the  middle of strapping a car seat into the back. "You look different."

"It's the make-up," she muttered, tossing her jacket into the front seat.

He stood to his full, imposing height and raked a steady gaze over her  body. It was as good as a touch from the way her insides got that  drunken feeling only four shots and three sheets to the wind used to get  her.

"No," he said. "That's not it."

A charge filled the air between them, and her gaze, damn her gaze,  slipped to his lips. He'd shaved, and even though he stoically watched  her, the faint imprint of his laugh lines etched his cheeks. His throat  moved, Adam's apple pulling down as he swallowed, and for a moment, she  wished she could ignore everything that had happened in the last two  days. Wished she could just lose herself in a touch she knew he wouldn't  give, even if she pleaded.

It would have to be her to break the moment. He wasn't pulling away, and  the longer they went on like this, drinking each other in, the harder  it was to break the connection that pulled her unintentionally closer.  He wore a deep blue sweater and a white undershirt peaked out from his  collar. Every breath he took pushed his chiseled chest against the  fabric of his shirt. With no hat to cover his hair, not even the clouds  could shield the sun from spiriting light off the many shades of blond.  And with fashionable jeans over heavy snow boots, he didn't look like he  belonged out on this untamed patch of wilderness. He belonged on the  pages of some magazine that advertised fancy cologne.                       
       
           



       

Erin had been right. Farrah wasn't on the same planet as Aanon, much less the same league.

A wrinkle of worry creased his brow. "You look sad. What's wrong?"

"I am," she quipped, but as she opened her mouth to say more, Dodge yelled for his daddy.

The little boy had maneuvered his way into Luna's doghouse, and the pup  had then wiggled in there with him. Now, neither of them seemed able to  escape.

She couldn't help the smile that took her face as Aanon jogged over to  rescue them. Ungracefully, she pulled herself into the passenger seat  and waited. As Aanon buckled his miniature into the car seat, Dodge  hummed and played with the zipper of his jacket, all the while kicking  his feet. Leaned over him like Aanon was, it was easy to see how alike  their hair color was. Erin had blond hair as well, but it was heavily  highlighted and had the lack of sheen that said she'd been coloring it  for some time. No, Dodge's hair was definitely a gift from his father's  side of the genetics.

"You ready?" Aanon asked as he shut the driver's door beside him.

"As I'll ever be," she said, smiling at the little boy in the back seat as they pulled out.

****

Farrah looked so good, it should be illegal. The green sweater she wore  made her eyes shine in a color Aanon had only seen in the northern  lights, and it clung to the small swell of her stomach in ways he found  completely erotic.

This morning was the first time she'd worn clothes that accentuated her  figure since he'd met her. And damn was she making it work for her. It  helped that she hadn't put her jacket on, and he sent a little prayer up  that it would stay warm enough today that she wouldn't need it. Her  bright pink toboggan, scarf, and mittens only served to make her dark  hair look darker and her fair skin look like alabaster. The pink color  matched the glossy hue she'd picked for her lips, and for the tenth time  since they'd started the drive, he glanced sideways to catch her  profile.

What was he doing?

He knew the consequences of Erin's wrath but couldn't seem to stop  himself this morning when Farrah kept putting him off. Something about  the way she could say "no" to him presented a delicious challenge. It  made her more mysterious.

And watching her ride a tractor like she'd been doing it for years from  the kitchen window this morning? He was going straight to hell for  getting a boner from watching a pregnant woman straddle a piece of heavy  machinery.