“Did you really accuse my trusted vehicle of inflictingtetanus? Like what you get from stepping on a . . . a nail?”
“A rusty old nail.”
“How dare you! Georgie is the epitome of vintage charm.”
“Toby says it makes a weird sound every time it turns left.”
“So do I!” To demonstrate my silly comment, I turn to the left and make a squeaky sound. It’s a lame attempt to diffuse a situation that threatens to overwhelm me.
He’s gifting me a brand-new SUV? Who does that?
“Ligaya.” He steps closer, brushing hair from my temples in two gentle swipes. “I want to help. Let me help. Please.”
I press my lips together, unsure if it’s the logic or the way he’s looking at me that tips the scale.
Maybe it’s that little bump I’m rubbing right now, reminding me that I need to make decisions based on their needs, not my pride. Perhaps I’m a bit tired of duct-taping the side mirror. And then there’s Tristan, looking hopeful and a bit desperate.
“Fine. But I’m not calling it a gift. It’s a shared asset.”
He grins, shoulders relaxing. “I accept your lawyer-speak.”
He opens the driver’s door like he’s unveiling a throne. “Wanna take it for a spin?”
I arch a brow. “Where do you want to go?”
“Your call.”
I pause. We ate enough last night to qualify for a competitive eating trophy.
“I feel like hiking,” I say. “Let’s head to Sugarcreek MetroPark. I know the perfect trail.”
“Awesome,” he says, face lighting up.
“Let me get out of this dress and into more comfortable clothes first. Come in.”
He follows into the house and kicks off his shoes. When I get my coat off, Tristan looks at me with alarm.
“You went to church looking like that?” he says in a tone that mixes awe with something darker.
“Like what?”
“Like fucking temptation, Ligaya.”
“Whatever, perv.” I roll my eyes, but my body warms to his twisted flattery. Broadcasting my arousal, my nipples go on high beam. Tristan notices and does a comical head shake.
“Sorry. That’s stupid of me to say. You can wear whatever you want.” His eyes blaze. “If your plan is to kill me with lust, you’re halfway there.”
“With a dress?”
“With what’s under the dress.”
“Sounds like ayouproblem.” I don’t back down, because it isn’t in my nature when it comes to Tristan. That’s what we do: challenge each other.
But this isn’t juvenile ball busting anymore.
He talks about lust, yet it’s more than that for me at this point. Tristan’s presence is tempting in ways beyond physical. If things go wrong, I suspect I won’t recover. He might be used to flings, but heis my first. And, with his children growing inside me, probably my last.
I crave his attention, because he has all of mine. This level of attraction could easily backfire. My feelings for him have grown every day that I carry our children.
