His Son, Her Secret Page 12

  Byron hesitated. Deep down, he believed that she wouldn’t turn back to her father again. But...did he really trust her not to rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and hold it up for him to see? Especially after the way she’d driven off and stranded him here with the Realtor, all because he wanted to buy a nice house?

  “That’s not a good silence over there,” Matthew observed.

  Byron started pacing. “We’re still working through a few issues.” There. That was something that Matthew would understand.

  “A ‘few issues,’ huh? And you want to marry a ‘few issues’? Man, you are nuts.”

  “It runs in the family,” he shot back. “You’re the one who wanted me to get arrested to distract the press so you could canoodle in private with an actress.”

  “That’s not exactly what happened, but that’s neither here nor there,” Matthew replied calmly. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I want a prenup that protects the rest of the family from Leona’s father and guarantees that she and I will always have joint custody of Percy.”

  “You always did act impulsively,” Matthew said in an offhand way. “Running off to Europe, now getting married. What’s the kid’s full name?”

  “Percy Harper Beaumont.”

  Matthew sighed heavily. “And her middle name? I assume she’s still Leona Harper at this point.”

  Byron had to think about that. “Margaret. And before you ask, mine is still John.”

  “I hadn’t forgotten. Okay, fine. I’ll talk to the lawyers and get them working on something. But for the love of God, don’t marry her until the prenup has been signed, sealed and delivered, okay? If I were you, I’d think long and hard about marrying her at all. Even if you think this is a short-term solution and even if you have a prenup, the divorce would be a huge mess.” Byron swore he heard Matthew shudder. “The press would eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner. We need to keep the whole thing as quiet as possible.”

  Byron looked back at the house, where no doubt the Realtor was on her phone. “Understood. But I’m buying the house anyway.”

  “Fine. Dare I ask how the restaurant is coming along?”

  “Uh...”

  “Byron,” Matthew said in warning.

  “No, it’s coming along fine. I hired Leona to do the interior design.”

  There it was again, that noise that sounded like Matthew was breaking something. “Are you kidding me?”

  “That’s what she does,” Byron quickly defended. “That’s what she went to school for. She’s got a lot of really good ideas—we’re going to call it Caballo de Tiro, which is Spanish for draft horse. I’ve been testing out menu options and we’ve started lining up contractors. It’s going to be great. Really.”

  “Caballo de Tiro?”

  “It plays off the Percheron Drafts name but pulls in the European influences,” Byron explained.

  “Yes, I get it. So let me see if I have this straight—you hid in Europe for a year to get away from a woman, only to come back and hire her, move in with her, and marry her—all at once?”

  “Don’t forget the baby.”

  “Oh, no—who could forget the baby?” Matthew scoffed. “Got any other surprise children hidden anywhere? Didn’t leave anyone knocked up in Spain, did you?”

  “No.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Didn’t sleep with anyone, if you must know. So yes, I’m sure. No more surprises.”

  “Fine,” Matthew huffed, making it plenty clear that it was anything but. “I’ll deal with the lawyers. Stay out of the headlines, Byron.”

  “Thanks,” Byron said, but Matthew had already hung up on him.

  He stared at his phone. Well. That had probably gone as smoothly as possible.

  Now he just had to convince Leona that this house and a wedding were all for the best. No matter what Matthew said, Byron knew that marrying her was not only the right thing to do, but the best for all parties involved. And he had to do it all without letting her break his heart again.

  No problem, right?

  Yeah, right.

  * * *

  If there was one valuable lesson that Byron had learned growing up as a Beaumont, it was that money talked. Loudly.

  He told Sherry that he’d pay full price—and full commission—if everything was settled within two weeks and she kept quiet about both his new address and the people with whom he’d be living. Within a week, he was the proud owner of a fabulous family home. Now he just needed the one thing that money couldn’t apparently buy—a family.

  His life was a strange dichotomy right now, and he wasn’t having much luck merging the two halves back into a recognizable whole.

  During the daylight hours, he worked side by side with Leona. They met with contractors, finalized design plans and ate, of course. Byron kept tweaking the dishes or trying something that might work better—something that Leona might like better. They had long discussions about rotating menu items, which local sources to use for beef and herbs and exterior landscaping. She had no problem talking to him during the day.

  But at night? At night she kept the distance between them. Even when he came over to the apartment to play with Percy, she made sure she was far more than an arm’s length away.

  “I can move into the house next week,” he told her a week later. He was lying on the floor of her living room, rolling a ball to Percy and making happy noises when the baby got anywhere near it. He could hear music coming from May’s room, where she’d basically locked herself every time Byron came over. “I’ve got some basic furniture, but I wanted you to pick out what you liked.”

  From where she sat at the kitchen table, staring at her computer she glared at him. “I am not moving into that ridiculous house.”

  “And you have yet to give me a good reason why not,” he shot back at her. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You already agreed to move in so that we could raise our son together. I provided an adequate living space.”

  She snorted and continued to scroll.

  “And I’m basically giving you a blank check to decorate it any way you want. Explain to me again how this makes me the villain here.” When she said nothing, he sighed.

  She shut her computer with a bit more force than was necessary. “You want to know what the problem is? Aside from the fact that I already told you once and you didn’t pay any attention?”

  “I am not trying to buy your complicity,” he replied, trying mightily to keep his voice calm. “I’m not trying to buy your loyalty. I’m trying to provide for my family. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  She dropped her head into her hands. “Byron...”

  Percy squealed as the ball went rolling wide to the right. “Whoa, buddy—now what are we going to do?” Byron asked him.

  Percy flopped over and tried to crawl toward the ball, but when it turned out to be only unproductive wiggling, he howled in frustration.

  “You can do it!” Byron said encouragingly to the baby. Then he looked back at Leona. Her head was still in her hands. Was she crying? “Leona?”

  He got up off the floor and gently kicked the ball closer to Percy. Then he went to her. She was crying. Damn.

  “I just want to know that you’re going to be here,” she whispered, her voice muffled by her hands. “And I don’t.”

  Oh, come on. He fought this sense of frustration. “Leona. We have a child together. I’m buying a house for us—not even a rental. And in case you’ve forgotten it, we’re working on this restaurant that will keep me in the greater Denver area. Are these the actions of a man who’s going to bail?”

  “No,” she sniffed. “But that’s not what I asked for, none of it is.”

  “I asked you to marry me. What other reassurances do you want? Do I have
to open a vein and sign my name in blood?”

  As if on cue, May’s music got louder. Leona’s shoulders tightened in response. But she hadn’t answered yet.

  He found a knot in her muscles and began to rub it. “I don’t mean to add to the stress. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I do.” Her voice, however, wasn’t terribly convincing. But then she tilted her head to the side, stretching her shoulders for him. He found another knot and began to rub that one. “Oh, that’s good.”

  It’d be better if Byron could lay Leona out on a bed. Then he could give her a proper massage, one that would work out all the knots. Maybe that was what she needed—to know that he would take care of her in every respect, not just the material ones.

  Her body started to relax under his touch and, as he focused on the base of her neck, she let out a low moan of relief. That moan took all of his noble intentions and did something less than noble to them. A full body massage was just what she needed, complete with candles and massage oil. Yeah, it’d be better if he could take his time and get her body nice and relaxed and then...

  No, stop it. The last time he’d thought with his dick, he’d wound up using a compromised condom. Plus he’d sort of promised Matthew he would keep his damned zipper zipped until the prenup was signed.

  Besides, there was that little issue of her making him guess what the hell was holding her up. What did she mean, she wanted to know he’d be there? How was he not showing her that? He didn’t get it.

  Percy fussed and she got up to get him. One thing was clear. Byron was going to have to figure it out—and fast.

  Twelve

  Leona tried to focus on choosing a font for the restaurant’s name while Byron got Percy changed and read him a story, but it didn’t work. Byron had figured out the bedtime routine in only a few short days, really. He could probably handle Percy on his own now, except for the nursing part. Which was great. Really, it was.

  But whenever she thought that, it made her sad, too—and she wasn’t sure why. All she knew was that the words on her computer screen kept blurring together.

  Byron was involved. Byron was helping out. Byron was making all sorts of wonderful-sounding promises.

  But did he really need her? Would he keep his word or would he disappear again? Could she trust him—or any Beaumont—not to take her son and leave her behind?

  She kept thinking back to the way Frances had reacted to finding Leona in the kitchen. Was it a huge stretch of the imagination to think that, when Byron wasn’t with Leona, his family was trying to convince him not to marry her—to just take the baby instead?

  She didn’t think so. And that made it hard to take Byron at his word. Once, he’d believed her father and his poisonous lies instead of trusting that Leona would come to him.

  He could be perfect right now and she’d still be afraid that he’d kick her out of his life a second time.

  Her head was such a wash of emotions that she couldn’t form a single, rational thought. The house was huge and lovely, it was true. By any objective measure, it was perfect. So what bothered her about it?

  She’d once dreamed of Byron asking her to marry him, of settling down with him and raising a family. A year after she’d given up on that dream, it was suddenly happening. She wouldn’t have to worry about money or doctor’s bills or making rent. Moving in with Byron would solve so many problems. She should be happy.

  And yet, what price would she pay for stability? Or even just the illusion of stability?

  She would have to give up her independence to a man who didn’t want her—who only wanted a mother for his son.

  It was a damned high price to pay.

  She wiped her eyes again when she heard Byron finishing his story. This part of the nightly ritual—and the morning companion—was something that had always been hers and hers alone, and right now she needed the reassurance of the routine.

  She walked into Percy’s room and stood there, watching. Byron hummed something low as he rocked Percy back and forth. The whole thing—the baby boy with bright red hair in his father’s arms, a look of peace on both of their faces—it was almost too much for her. Her eyes began to water again.

  “Ready?” Byron asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yes.” She had to be, after all. This was for her son.

  Byron stood and Leona took the glider. He carefully lowered Percy into her arms. “Good night, little man,” he whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then he looked at Leona. “I’ll wait for you, if that’s okay with you.”

  She nodded. He had never left while she was nursing Percy—usually he did something in the kitchen, even if it was just the dishes.

  She lifted her shirt and Percy latched on. For the next few minutes, she didn’t have to think about moving and marriages and work and Byron. This was her time with her son. He still needed her. She hoped Byron realized that, too.

  She might have dozed off while Percy was nursing because the next time she looked down, he’d fallen asleep with a trickle of milk running down the side of his face. She wiped him up and carried him over to his crib.

  Surprisingly, Byron was not in the kitchen. And he wasn’t in the living room. He wasn’t in the bedroom, either, and she highly doubted he’d gotten anywhere near May’s room.

  Then she realized that the door to the patio was open. He was outside? She grabbed a cardigan to fight off the evening chill and headed out.

  Byron was in one of the two sad little deck chairs that May had found at a thrift store, staring out at the night sky. The apartment faced the east, so they could actually see some of the stars over the Great Plains. “What are you doing out here? I’d have thought you’d be elbow deep in a soufflé or something.”

  He grinned and held out a hand. “Just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “About how it could have been different. Between us.”

  She should sit down in the other chair. She shouldn’t take his hand, not when she was mentally and physically exhausted. She should try to keep some kind of distance between them, some layer of protection from his considerable charms.

  But she took his hand and he pulled her down so she was sitting across his lap. “Different how?”

  Byron swept her short hair away from his face and rested his chin on her shoulder. She curled into him, into his warmth. “When I first asked you out—almost two years ago—you knew who I was, right?”

  She nodded. She didn’t want to revisit what had gone wrong before. Not tonight. But the sky was beautiful and Byron was warm and one of his hands was tucked around her thigh and the other was rubbing against her back and the moment was...peaceful.

  “But you went out with me anyway.”

  “After you asked me three times.” Their voices were quiet, their heads close together. It felt intimate to sit like this.

  “And...” He took a deep breath. “And if I’d asked you to marry me before that night, would you have said yes?”

  The corners of her mouth pulled down. “Saying yes would have meant having to face who I really was.”

  “And it would have been a problem, it’s true. Not a deal-breaker, though. But that’s not what I’m asking. I’m asking if you would have said yes.”

  She stared at the stars. A plane from the airport cut across the sky, rising higher and higher. Not a deal-breaker. Was he being honest? Or would he have accused her of trying to trap him, when she told him she was that Harper and pregnant with his child?

  “If you’d known who my father was from the beginning, would you have asked me out three times?”

  He shifted, cupping her chin in his hand and lifting her head until he looked her in the eye. “I don’t think I could have stayed away from you.”

  Even though the angle was awkward, she hugged him to her. That was all sh
e’d wanted—to be Leona, and to be good enough. She’d almost had it, too—before it’d been torn away.

  “And I can’t believe you would have spent a whole year making me fall in love with you if it’d been a trap set by Harper.”

  She looked up at him. Their faces were close, so close. But he didn’t kiss her and she didn’t kiss him. “I made you fall in love with me? Is that what you thought?”

  The last time he’d brought feelings into the conversation, it had been the extremely noncommittal “I cared for you once.” Nothing about love, not then and not now.

  This new confession, at least, was something that felt less like an evasion. Even if it was still a slight.

  He touched his forehead to her, a sweet touch that made her lean into him even more. “All I’m doing is asking you now. I know a lot has happened in the past year but...” He pulled his keys out of his pocket. She was surprised to see that the ring was on the key chain. That didn’t seem like the best place for a diamond. “I’ll admit that I haven’t done the best job of it.”

  She snorted, but she couldn’t tear her eyes off the ring. It was a stunning piece—the emerald-cut diamond was huge. When he’d first pulled it out, she’d been too surprised to do much of anything but gape at it. He’d dropped a fortune on it, that much was clear. Just like the house, it’d seemed like too much. But now, flashing only occasionally, it didn’t seem as overwhelming.

  “I’d been planning on asking you for a few months before... Well, I’d been waiting for the right moment. And I missed my window then. But now? Now is the right time.”

  He jostled her from side to side as he worked the ring off the key chain. Then he settled her back on his lap and held the ring up for her.

  “I thought you said I could decide after we made it through two weeks,” she said in a breathless voice.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” he chuckled. “If you want to wait the two weeks, I’ll ask again.”

  This time, she physically picked up the ring. It was the first time she’d touched it. It felt warm in her palm—Byron’s warmth. She closed her fingers around the ring. It was a heavy thing, but it didn’t feel like a lead weight dragging her down. The corners of the rectangular stone dug into her fingers. She swallowed nervously. “And what if the two weeks don’t go well? Then what?”