Page 50 of Forsaken Trail (Runaway 4)

Clara pulled in her lips to hide a smile as she passed me, following her sister.

I looked to the blue sky and dragged in a deep breath. If they knew why I was grumpy, they’d have an entirely different reaction. Getting a grip on this attraction to Aria was taking more effort than I’d expected.

August raced past me, following his mother and aunt. “Come on, Brody!”

“Coming,” I muttered, taking a moment with my back turned to adjust my swelling cock. Then I turned and met them in the house.

Aria was looking around, surveying the space. “It’s bigger than I remember.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

She dropped her gaze and smiled. “I’m good. Much better. The morning sickness has pretty much disappeared now.”

“Good. Can I get you some water or juice or—”

“Here you are, sir.” Ron appeared, carrying a tray from the kitchen filled with glasses of ice and sparkling water, each with a lemon wedge on the rim.

“Thank you, Ron.” I took a glass, then handed one to both Aria and Clara. August received a juice box.

“Cheers.” Clara raised her glass. “To a new adventure.”

“Cheers.” Aria clinked glasses with her sister, then with mine before taking a long drink. If she felt uncomfortable about being here, it didn’t show. This was the woman who’d waltzed into a wedding full of strangers and held her chin high the entire time.

“The crew will be here in fifteen minutes,” Ron said.

“Excellent. I—”

“Crew. What crew?” Aria asked.

“The crew to unpack.”

“Oh, we don’t need a crew. I don’t have much. You can just cancel them.”

“But—” One pointed look from Clara and I cut myself off. Control. Aria needed control. It went against my nature, but I could let this one go. “All right. Cancel them, Ron.”

“Yes, sir.” He tucked his now-empty tray under an arm and disappeared.

“Let me show you around.” I gestured for them to follow me deeper into the house, toward the wing that would become Aria’s. “I don’t spend much time in these rooms. I stick to my office, bedroom and the gym, so I won’t bother you. You’ve got complete run of the place. Please make this your home.”

“I don’t need much space.”

She’d have it regardless.

We walked down a hallway that led toward the back of the house. Windows made up the exterior walls, as they did in the entire place. She’d have a view of the desert property that surrounded us on all sides.

This side of the house had five bedrooms. There was an office for her on the second floor as well as a sitting room with a fireplace. I escorted her to the largest bedroom first, opening the door to the room. Along one wall was a king-sized bed with a white canopy and ivory quilt. I’d had the gossamer draping added just last week.

The walls, once midnight blue, had been repainted a soft cream. The hardwood floors had been refinished and restained from the pale gray she’d objected to the night of the wedding. Their honey-colored grains emitted a warm glow in the space. The fawn and mushroom area rug beneath the bed was so plush that even I’d tried it beneath my bare feet—then I’d ordered one for my own bedroom.

At Christmas, we hadn’t broached the topic of where she’d live. That vacation had been awkward at best. Aria and Clara had invited me over for Christmas dinner, and the moment the meal had finished, I’d retreated to my office. The evening had been pleasant, but Aria had left me unsettled. Her stare from across the table had been unnerving, like she’d seen my fears about the pregnancy.

Like she’d seen the restraint it had taken to keep from touching her shiny hair and caressing her pretty skin.

Insecurity wasn’t in the Carmichael gene pool. At least, I hadn’t thought so until Aria and this baby had proved me wrong.

After Christmas, she’d returned to Oregon and I’d hired a designer to rework the bedrooms. They now had the light, bright and airy feel that I’d seen in her condo. The only things missing were the plants.

No doubt those were in the U-Haul.