Waiting for You(51)

She’d looked like she was bracing herself for bad news—resolute and vulnerable at the same time. Like she was prepared for the worst, but with a kernel of hope flickering inside her.

He just wished he knew what the hell she was hoping for.

If she wanted him out of the picture, she was going to be disappointed. He wasn’t about to leave her high and dry—or the baby she was carrying. He had no clue where things stood between him and Erin, but he knew damn well where they stood between him and his child. He was going to be a father, and he was going to be involved.

He had to believe Erin wanted that, too. At least deep down. Maybe she’d just trained herself not to have expectations.

That was something he understood.

Well, she’d just have to get used to having him around. Because he was going to be there for Erin whether she liked it or not.

Her face appeared again in his mind’s eye, and he thought about the way she’d stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She’d looked every bit as beautiful as he remembered, but she’d also looked worn out.

Of course she was worn out. She was pregnant. She’d cut herself off from him and from his family, and had carried this burden all alone for six months.

He looked up at the ceiling again, picturing Erin asleep in her room. The room where all this had begun.

A fierce wave of protectiveness swept through him. He wanted to be there right now, watching over her.

It was the most basic urge a man could feel: the urge to protect the woman carrying his child.

And the best way to do that was to marry her.

He’d never imagined himself getting married. That was the kind of thing you did when you believed in the future; when you had faith that the world was a good place.

It had been years since he’d let himself think about the future. When you were a soldier in a war zone, there was a good chance you might not have one. And losing people he cared about had taught him that faith in the future was a sure path to pain.

But marrying Erin wouldn’t be an act of faith. It was simply the right thing to do, the honorable thing to do. What better way to take care of Erin and their child?

And it wouldn’t exactly be a chore, he thought, remembering the night that had started all this. The way she’d looked up at him, with so much trust and sweetness and desire…the way her scent had surrounded him…

No, it wouldn’t be a chore. Thinking about it made him feel…good. And restless, like he should be with her right now.

He threw off his covers and got out of bed. He couldn’t go to her house until morning, but sleep wasn’t an option and he wanted to do something useful.

Her face had looked thin, and there were dark smudges under her eyes. Was she eating enough? Getting enough nutrients? Vegetables and protein and all that?

There were twenty-four hour grocery stores in Des Moines. Instead of lying in bed thinking, which wasn’t exactly his style, he could do something practical. Like making sure Erin had plenty of nutritious food in her house.

It was his job to protect and care for her now. For the first time in a long time he had a mission, and he wasn’t going to screw it up.





Chapter Eleven


Erin overslept, probably because she’d spent half the night tossing and turning, thinking about Jake. The doorbell woke her up, and even though she’d been hoping to look a little more presentable before seeing him again, all she had time to do was throw on her bathrobe and slippers before going downstairs to let him in.

“Hi,” she said, looking from him to the half dozen bags he’d set down on the porch. “What’s all this?”

“I went grocery shopping. I hope that’s okay.”

“Um…sure. Although I do actually have food in the house.”

“I figured. But you can always use more.”

It was a cold day, and Jake was wearing a sheepskin jacket over a blue chambray shirt and jeans. He’d grown his hair a little longer in the last six months, and between that and the stubble on his jaw he looked like an ad for some kind of male outdoors thing, like work boots or backpacks or fishing gear.

Meanwhile, her hair was sticking up all over the place and she hadn’t even brushed her teeth yet. “I overslept,” she said, cinching her robe tighter as she stood back to let Jake in. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a quick shower.”

“I don’t mind at all. That’ll give me time to put away the groceries. I’ll make some coffee, too. Decaf.”

She nodded. “That sounds great.”

She disappeared upstairs with a feeling of relief.

When she came back down twenty minutes later, dressed in maternity jeans and a pale pink sweatshirt, good smells and the sound of something sizzling in a pan were coming from her kitchen.