looked surprised. “Noah got married? That’s great. I was here for his brother David’s wedding in November.”
“Their other brother, Gideon, got married, too. He and his wife are expecting. So are David and his wife.”
Jake followed her into the house. “So the Falcon brothers are off the market. That was a long time coming.”
“Not as long as for the McCoy brothers,” she said, keeping her tone light, glancing behind her.
He shrugged. “I suppose it’s a record that’ll hold for a while longer. Unless Joe comes to his senses about Dixie.”
The fact that he didn’t even consider he might get married himself cut into Keri like a knife. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but she’d thought it would at least be something he’d think about. As she had.
That’s what she got for having expectations. They almost always turned out different from reality.
And if Jake wondered why she hardly said a word to him the rest of the evening, he didn’t ask.
Chapter Three
Jake watched Keri keep herself busy all evening. When he wouldn’t let her heat up his soup, she disappeared into his office and began going through the stacks of baby items, coming out with tiny clothes and blankets to put in the washer, apparently a requirement before letting a baby’s skin come in contact with them. Then she sat at the dining room table to write thank-you notes. They hadn’t spoken, unless out of necessity, since he’d come indoors.
He’d probably said something that bothered her, but he didn’t know what—and she wasn’t talking.
Anyway, he was ready to be alone, and it didn’t look like she was headed to bed anytime soon.
He’d channel surfed the television stations as much as he could stand it, sometimes paying attention for a while, sometimes zoning out, the volume not up loud enough to intrude into his thoughts if he didn’t want it to. Sometimes he watched Keri as she made her way to and from the laundry room, her belly a constant reminder of the time they’d shared, and the unknowns of the future.
Donovan would probably insist they get a DNA test, as Keri had offered, to make sure the baby was Jake’s, but he didn’t doubt her. She may have defied him—with what she considered good reason—but she hadn’t ever lied, even when it made her look bad.
“You can have the bedroom,” he said when he saw her finally yawn and stretch. It was almost eleven o’clock.
“Of course I won’t do that. You need good rest. I’ll be fine on the couch.” She stacked her thank-you notes neatly, set her pen precisely beside them and came into the living room space.
“You’ll take the bedroom,” he repeated, an order this time. He needed to be able to move around, not feel hemmed in. To be able to go outdoors if he wanted.
She sat on the coffee table, facing him, their knees almost touching. “Do you need to be alone?”
“Yes.”
“All you have to do is tell me, Jake—whatever it is you need. I can’t anticipate it. Please just be direct. It’ll save us both a lot of grief and confusion.”
“All right.” Would she do the same?
She headed out of the room but turned around when she reached the hall. “I usually have to get up a couple of times during the night,” she said, gesturing toward the only bathroom in the house.
He wasn’t sure why she was telling him that. “Do you need a light kept on?”
“No. I just didn’t want to startle you.”
“I appreciate the warning. I’ll keep my boxers on so I don’t startle you.”
She laughed, the pitch almost hurting his ears. He realized he hadn’t heard her laugh before. It was a good sound, a healthy one. After months of hearing only men’s voices, men who spoke only Spanish, her laugh seemed musical.
She grinned. “Feel free to be comfortable, whatever that means to you.”
“And since you’ve already seen it all…”
“That’s not true,” she said softly. “It was dark. I only…felt.”
A heavy curtain of silence dropped between them, the moment of humor gone because of a memory that could never fade. A child would be born of it.
He’d only felt, too—Keri’s long, lean body and firm breasts and smooth rear. Her mouth—God, her mouth.
As if she heard his thoughts, she pressed her fingers to her lips. He stared.
“Good night, Jake,” she said, a little breathless, then hurried down the hall.
He didn’t expect to sleep. Earlier he’d fallen asleep instantly in his own bed, but it was dark now, and quiet. No sounds of men snoring, or shouting as they slept. No witnessing violence done to others, unable to stop it without blowing his cover. He’d had to keep the bigger picture in mind.
He wished he could snap his fingers and have the memories disappear. Instead they held court in his head. After hours of pacing and prowling, he dropped onto the sofa and turned off the television, stretching out, still fully dressed, and tucking a small pillow under his head. He shoved his fingers through his hair. He needed to get it cut, take away yet another reminder of where he‘d been.
He closed his eyes but still saw too much. He probably should take the sleeping pills Donovan had gotten from Doc Saxon for him—except he needed to be able to hear the sounds around him.
He jolted as he heard a door open, then realized it was Keri. Light from the bedroom spilled into the hallway enough that he could see her glance toward the living room as she crossed to the bathroom on a whisper of sound. When she came out, she headed toward him instead of the bedroom. He closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to talk.
But after a few seconds he felt something being laid over him—an afghan Nana Mae had crocheted for him one Christmas. He usually kept it on the back of an overstuffed chair.
Jake felt the warmth of the blanket even before she turned away. It smelled…clean.
“Keri.” He propped himself up on an elbow.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I was awake. Be glad I was.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“It’s risky, okay?”
“What? To touch you? I didn’t touch you.”
“The blanket did. Just don’t do it. For your own sake.”
“All right.”
“Have you slept?” he asked.
“Mostly, yes.”
“Even
