Page 24 of Call Me Yours (Lodestar Ranch #4)

STEVEN

It wasn’t like I expected Chloe to be overjoyed by the prospect of living under the same roof as—how had she phrased it to Stevie? Hot garbage —but shit. A little gratitude would have been nice.

“Steven,” Chloe said, slowly and patiently like I was an idiot, “I cannot live with you.”

“No,” I said, matching her tone, “you cannot be homeless. You can live with me. You can cut your commute to work by fifteen minutes. You can still be close to your family without having them all up in your business. You can save money on rent so that when the right opportunity comes along, you can take it.”

That gave her pause. Her head tilted and her gaze slid sideways as she considered. “How much would rent be?”

“No rent.”

She straightened, her gaze snapping to mine. “I’m paying rent.”

I shook my head. “It’s in both of our best interests that you don’t. The more you can save, the faster you can find a permanent place to live.”

She folded her arms and frowned at the floor while she thought it through. I didn’t rush her. Chloe wasn’t unreasonable. She’d do the right thing for her and her baby. I cut another slice of bread and pushed it to her. She stared at it for a moment before taking it. Then she looked up at me.

“At least let me help with food and utilities,” she said.

I shrugged. “Sure.”

Her shoulders tensed. “What if I can’t find a place before Radish is born? You really want a newborn baby living with you?”

Radish . She’d kept my silly little nickname.

Warmth spread through my chest. “I happen to like kids, Chloe.” Probably.

I didn’t actually know any, but I’d seen several from a distance and they seemed fine.

“I wasn’t a huge fan of Amy when she was born but in my defense, she cried a lot. I think she’s great now.”

Chloe stared at me. “Amy is eighteen. She’s not a kid.

And babies do cry a lot. That’s what they’re known for.

They cry when they’re hungry, they cry when they need a diaper change, they cry when they’re sleepy, they cry when they wake up.

Oh, god.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This isn’t going to work. ”

“It will be fine,” I insisted. “I won’t even notice.

My room is at the opposite end of the house.

The room you’re taking has its own bathroom, too, and it’s big enough for a bed and a crib, so you don’t have to worry about waking me up in the middle of the night.

And if I hear the baby cry, so what? You cannot be homeless, Chloe. Your baby cannot be homeless.”

Her forehead creased as she searched my face. “Why are you doing this?”

Because when I think of anything bad happening to you, I want to tear the world apart . But that didn’t seem like the kind of thing I should say out loud. “I don’t know,” I said. “It must be that basic human decency I’ve heard so much about.”

“No.” She shook her head slowly. “No, that’s not it. You’re?—”

I cut her off. “Yeah, I know what you think I am, princess. I don’t need to hear it again.” I jerked away, bracing my palms on the countertop.

There was a beat of silence. Fuck me, why did I go and say that? I felt so fucking exposed.

And then her hand ghosted over my shoulder, skimming against my thick flannel shirt, no weight to her touch. I would have thought she was flicking away a fly or schmutz if she hadn’t hesitated, the barest flex of her fingers grazing my collar.

I couldn’t breathe for hoping.

“I was going to say,” she said quietly, pulling her hand away, “that you’re doing so much more than that. This isn’t basic human decency. This is—” She sucked in a deep breath. “Anyway. Thank you.”

“It’s fine,” I said, when what I wanted to say was please put your hand back on my shoulder immediately .

We stood there for a moment, neither of us speaking.

Then she cleared her throat. “Would Amy be okay with me moving in?”

I turned so I was facing her again. “I don’t see why not. She likes you. I’ll talk to her, though.”

Chloe chewed her lip, twisting her fingers together. “Seven months is a long time. I’m sure I can find something else before the baby comes, but what if I can’t? I don’t want Amy to feel like she was tricked.”

“Do you want me to tell her you’re pregnant?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She sighed. “She’s going to figure it out pretty quickly, anyway. I’m so nauseous all the time that I can’t hide it, so she’ll know I’m either pregnant or dying. We might as well tell her the truth straight off.”

I studied her for a moment. “You don’t seem very happy about that.”

“Steven.” She huffed my name. “I’m a therapist. I’m supposed to have my shit together. Of course I don’t want to tell people I’m pregnant from a one-night stand. I can’t even claim the condom broke. It’s embarrassing. I should know better.”

“Well, yeah, Chloe. You do know better. So does everyone else. It still happens. What would you say to one of your clients, if they were pregnant from a one-night stand because they didn’t use a condom? Would you tell them they should be embarrassed?”

Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “No, of course not. A lecture wouldn’t do anyone any good.”

“So stop lecturing yourself. It’s no one’s business how this baby came into the world. You can’t take back the past, and you want this baby. Let yourself be happy about it. Anything else, all the regrets and what ifs, it’s all noise. Don’t listen to it.”

She blinked rapidly. “That’s…Wow. What a…beautiful…thing to say.” A tear trembled on her lower lash line before splashing onto her cheek.

I stared at her in horror. “Why are you crying again?” I demanded. “Everything is fine now. You have a place to live.”

She sniffled. “Baby hormones. I can’t help it. You’re being so nice to me.”

“Would it help if I were mean to you?” I asked, stepping closer. “Because I’d be happy to oblige, princess.”

Her eyes narrowed as she shifted toward me. “Really, Steven? You’re going to be mean to a pregnant woman?”

“If you want me to.” My voice came out low and rough. Somehow the space between us had dissolved. We were at kissing distance now. Her face tipped up to look at me.

“I want…” Her gaze dipped to my mouth and she licked her lower lip. Every cell in my body took note. “I want…”

All I could feel was want.

All I could hear was her breath.

All I could smell was her strawberry hair.

All I could see was that mouth.

I fucking whimpered .

The fragile moment splintered. Chloe blinked the lust from her eyes and stepped back. She looked around as though searching for an explanation of how we had gotten here.

“Bread,” she said. “I want more bread.”

Without a word, I reached for the knife. What the hell else was I supposed to do? This woman hated me, and I still wanted to give her every damn thing she wanted.

And now she was going to live with me.

I was fucked.

“Tell me again why we’re moving all your shit into the basement?” Amy panted as we carried the solid pine dresser that had occupied one wall of my bedroom for the last two years down the hall.

“I already told you.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t about to bump into a wall. Amy was supposed to be steering us, but she seemed more interested in talking than keeping me upright.

“You garbled a bunch of words at me that made no sense. So try again,” Amy said.

I sighed. “Chloe needs a place to stay for a couple months. She’s moving in until she finds something more permanent.”

“Yes, I understand all that. Landlady’s daughter, divorce, blah, blah, blah.

Got it. What I don’t get is why Chloe can’t just stay in the guest room since it’s not permanent.

Why are you giving up your bedroom?” Her brown eyes lit up and she dropped her end with an unceremonious thunk against the braided rug, making me swear loudly.

“Oh, my god. Chloe’s the girl, isn’t she? ”

I grunted as my fingers started to lip against the wood and I carefully set the dresser down. “What girl?”

“ The girl. The one who didn’t want your help. The one ignoring your texts. Although I’m guessing that part changed, judging by that dopey smile you get every time you look at your phone.”

Sisters , goddamn. So gossipy. Never letting shit go. Did I sometimes look back over my text messages with Chloe? Yes, but only because I wanted to watch the animal videos again. That would make anyone smile. “What makes you think it’s about a girl?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Well, it’s definitely not our parents making you smile. And it’s not a guy, either. I’d know if you were gay.” She pursed her lips, thinking, and then clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, god. You’re not getting another pig, are you?”

I couldn’t categorically deny that. “Pigs are social creatures,” I defended. “Stevie needs friends.”

Amy groaned long and loud, the sound bouncing off the cement walls. “Steven, no .”

“Pretty sure it’s a tax write off if we call it a rescue,” I mused.

“You’re crazy.” She shook her head. “But that doesn’t explain why Chloe is moving to the master bedroom and you’re taking the crappy guestroom at the back of the house.”

“It’s not crappy,” I protested. “It’s small, but it’s comfortable. I figured Mom might come to visit eventually.”

Amy’s pitying look made my jaw clench. She cleared her throat. “Okay. Well. You’re going from a queen-sized bed to a twin. Do you even fit in a twin?”

To be honest, I hadn’t tried but it was too late now. “All right, break time is over and I’m not going to talk about this while carrying a hundred-pound dresser backwards down the stairs.” I hefted my end. “Let’s go.”

She smirked at my blatant attempt to dodge the question but hooked her hands under the beveled edge and lifted. “Okay, I’ve got it.”

Our height difference made the descent slow and awkward, but Amy was strong and disinclined to let me be crushed by a falling dresser, so we made it safely.

I wiggled the dresser against the back wall where it would be out of the way.

I still needed to wrangle my bed down here, along with the nightstand and any clothes I couldn’t cram into the tiny guestroom dresser because the room didn’t have a closet.

I turned around and yelped at finding my sister an inch from my nose. “Amy, what the hell?” I moved to pass her, but she poked me between the ribs.

“What’s the deal with Chloe?” she demanded.

Why was I so reluctant to talk about this? “It’s not a big deal. Chloe is pregnant. I figured she would want the extra privacy of having her own bathroom.”

“Holy shit, Steven. Holy shit,” Amy whispered, which was a bit overly dramatic for the situation, in my opinion. “You knocked up your boss’s daughter?”

“What? No. No . Jesus, Amy.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “I’m not the dad. But that reminds me. Chloe hasn’t told her parents yet, so keep it zipped, all right?”

I side-stepped her while she stood there slack jawed. I was halfway up the stairs when she pivoted.

“I have more questions,” she said.

I grunted. “Of course you do.”

Amy fired them off one after the other. “When is she due? Where’s the dad? Why is any of this your problem?”

“May. On a bike in South America somewhere. I didn’t think it was a problem.” At the top of the stairs, I turned around and leaned against the doorway with my arms crossed. Amy stomped up the stairs behind me. I quirked an eyebrow at her. “Is it a problem for you ?”

“It would have been nice to be asked,” she said. “I live here, too, don’t I?”

That got my attention. The last thing I wanted was for her to feel like this wasn’t her home.

She’d had enough of family making her feel like an unwanted obligation.

“Chloe told me to ask you. I didn’t because I thought I knew the answer.

Don’t you like Chloe? Are you telling me you would let her be pregnant and homeless? ”

“Of course not,” Amy grumbled. “It still would have been nice if we’d had an actual conversation about it before you started moving furniture around.”

“I’m the one giving up my room,” I pointed out.

“And I’m the one who now has to share a bathroom with a yucky boy,” she tossed back.

“I’m not yucky,” I protested.

She wrinkled her nose.

I sighed. “I promise I won’t piss on the toilet seat, and I’ll wipe down the sink after every shave. Satisfied?”

“Maybe.” She tilted her head, clearly waiting for more.

This time my sigh came from the depths of my sister-wearied soul. “Amy, Chloe is in a tight spot. What do you think about letting her stay here for a while? If you’re not okay with it, we’ll find another solution.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course, really. You’re my sister. This is your home for as long as you want it to be.”

“In that case…” She dragged the words out slowly just to fuck with me but couldn’t stop her shit-eating grin. “I think I would like that a lot.”