The Virgin Cowboy Billionaire’s Secret Baby(55)
“Already?”
“Well, the sooner it’s here, the less I have to deal with it later on. When things are more difficult. Physically.”
Matt nodded. “Just holler if you need help. I’ve put together my share of IKEA furniture.”
She laughed. “So you’re a seasoned pro.”
“You’re damn right.”
“And as for all of this…” She scowled at the bare, muddy walls. “At least it’s a rental, so I don’t have to deal with redoing the wallpaper or painting or any of that crap. I’d like to put something up, though. So it doesn’t look like a jail cell.”
“Got any ideas?”
Her lips twisted. “The stores only have all this pastel stuff, and ducks and bunnies and whatever.” Then she turned her head “Do you think it’s too early to start hanging AC/DC and Blade Runner posters?”
“There’s no such thing as too early for that.” He looked around the room. “Might not look good with that wallpaper, though.”
“Well, it can’t make it look any worse.” She flashed him a wicked grin. “How hard do you think it would be to get our hands on a Star Wars-themed mobile for the crib?”
He blinked.
She gestured as if she were turning a mobile over an imaginary crib. “You know, with a Millennium Falcon, a Death Star, maybe some Imperial Warships?”
Matt’s lips parted. “That would be so awesome.”
“Right? Maybe some Ewok teddy bears?” She turned to him, her expression deathly serious. “Or maybe KISS plushies? They have to have those somewhere on the Internet.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Matt shook his head. “Are you seriously telling me that you envision this room—our baby’s nursery—with a 1980s rock and science fiction mashup theme?”
She glanced around, then half shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“Is it wrong to be a little turned on right now?”
“Maybe for you.” She grinned, sliding her arms around the back of his neck. “I get to blame hormones, so it’s never wrong for me to be turned on.”
“But I don’t have that excuse.”
She shrugged, drawing him a little closer. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Well, when you put it like that…” He kissed her. Funny how quickly this had become natural and easy—one night together, and they’d slipped effortlessly into this gray area between friends and lovers. It wasn’t love and it wasn’t forever, but he couldn’t deny he liked what it was now.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this in the baby’s bedroom,” he murmured against her lips.
“Good thing my bedroom’s right across the—”
The doorbell rang.
They both turned their heads toward the window, as if they’d be able to see who was there.
“You expecting anyone?” he asked.
“No.” She shrugged and looked up at him again. “If it’s UPS, they’ll leave it on the porch.”
“True. So where were—”
It rang again. Twice.
“What the hell?” Dara released him and went to the window. She leaned on the sill and looked outside at the driveway, and her spine straightened. “Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me.”
“What? Who is—”
She brushed past him, heading for the door, and growled, “My ex-husband.”
Fucking seriously? He glanced out the window. He couldn’t see the front porch, but there was a black Lexus parked at an odd angle beside his truck in the driveway.
He hurried out of the room. As he came down the stairs, Dara and her ex were already firing shots across the threshold.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to talk to my wife.”
“Jon, let’s not do this.”
“I just want to talk. Why are—” A dark-haired tanned guy in a red jacket and sunglasses stood on the porch and did a double take at Matt. He took off his sunglasses and gestured at Matt with them. “Who the fuck are you?”
Dara cut in: “None of your goddamned business.”
Her ex-husband’s jaw tightened. “Moved on already, huh?”
“Seriously?” Dara folded her arms beneath her breasts. “You left me for another woman, and you’re going to even think about playing that card?”
Jon released a breath. “Look, can we just talk?”
“Why? What in the world would that change?”
The man swallowed. “You didn’t tell me you were pregnant.”
She pulled in a sharp breath. “Then who did?”
“Your mother called me.”
“Oh for God’s sake,” Dara muttered. “Well she—”