Never Say Never: Gravel Hill Boys Book Two

24. Madison

Foodgasm or mouthgasm,whatever it was called, I was experiencing some sort of epicurean nirvana. My baby bump was likely to be twice the size by the time I finally set down my fork.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Uh huh.” He grabbed a plate and started filling it.

“You sure? You rushed out of here so quickly.”

“I…um…had to make a phone call.”

His phone sat on the table next to the chair he occupied, and I pointed to it.

Eyes widening, he responded, “Land line.”

“I didn’t think anyone had one of those anymore. Other than my grandmother,” I teased.

“Funny.”

“I think that’s the third or fourth time you called me funny. That’s new. Maybe it’s the baby making me funny.”

He arched a brow at me. “Is that possible?” he asked. “Like, I know you have this weird hormone soup going on in there. But do you think I got some too? Sympathy hormones, I mean. Or like, something that would make me do weird shit.”

I gaped at him. “You’re kidding, right? Do you not understand anything about women or hormones. Or sympathy?”

“I understand women.” His voice deepened like he was about to croon a Barry White song. “I love women. Not to mention, I have a mother and four sisters.”

“Four sisters?” I aimed my napkin at his face and hit the target. “Yet here you are, clueless.”

He balled the napkin up and tossed it back to me. “Why would I know anything about being pregnant? For starters, I’m the youngest. And second, I don’t get home to West Virginia all that much.”

“Are you really from West Virginia?” Gibby might have a stroke when she found out. “Please tell me you grew up in Charleston or Morgantown at least.”

“Nope. Ashwood born and raised.”

“Is Ashwood that grubby little town where Beau had his engagement party? In an establishment named after a farm animal?”

One eye narrowed at me. “Roosters Tavern, and yes, that’s Ashwood. And that establishment has dollar draft nights whenever any of the local teams are playing. Bet you don’t have them in that big city of yours.”

“Dollar draft nights?” I sniffed. “I’m sure I wouldn’t know, but I’d say it’s doubtful. At least at any of the establishments I might frequent.” My spine lengthened. “And please enlighten me. Ashwood has local teams?” I hooked my fingers into air quotes to emphasize my doubt there were any professional sports teams in the entire state of West Virginia, which if I wasn’t mistaken, had the same population as New York City—if that.

“Not exactly local, but you know, Pittsburgh or WVU.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He threw me an icy glare. “Deadly.”

I pressed my fingers into my forehead to try and stave off the headache I could feel building behind my eyes. Why was I putting myself through this? This man and I were from two different worlds. This was Connor’s fault. If he hadn’t broken up with me at the Four Seasons, I never would’ve slept with Ian. The man’s home might be dripping in velvet and brocades, but he didn’t have the kind of pedigree my family would expect in an offspring of mine. And while I wasn’t sure if that even mattered to me, it would matter to Gibby. And it would matter to my father.

My father.God help me.

The trough of food I’d devoured swirled dangerously in my belly.

Ian set his fork down and stared at me. “Why are you here, Madison?” It was the most serious I’d ever seen him. “I’ve made polite small talk with you, given up my bed, and fed you and that little satsuma you’re carrying.”

Satsuma?

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Now, I’m not sayin’ you ain’t welcome, but let’s face it, you’ve made it pretty clear that I’m not one of your favorite people.”

I lifted my napkin and dabbed the corners of my mouth while I collected my thoughts. Of course there was a reason for me to be here: because my grandmother had insisted. Beyond that, I should’ve figured out exactly what I wanted out of this little meetup.

Drawing a blank, I thought I’d start with the truth and see where it goes.

“To be honest, my grandmother wanted me to have another conversation with you about our situation and your involvement. She’s under the impression that either I cannot or that I should not raise this baby on my own. She thinks I should convince you to take an active part in his or her life.”

Ian looking so serious seemed like a rarity. Not that I really knew him, but I’d seen sexy, turned-on Ian, goofy Ian, and angry Ian. Serious Ian was a little unnerving, as was his silence.

I plowed on. “For the record, I disagree. I’m capable of taking care of this child on my own. I don’t need your money, your presence, and particularly, I don’t need your influence on my child.

Ian arched an eyebrow. “Your child?”

A bit unnerved, I answered, “Yes…my child.”

Rolling his lips, he nodded. “Okay, okay. So not my child. Not our child. Just your child.”

“Well, technically, our child, but all you’ve done is contribute your DNA.”

“Uh huh. Sounds pretty clinical.”

The calm, quiet responses were making me uncomfortable. I shrugged. “Pretty much. I could’ve gone to a lab for the same result.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is that what this is? Did you set out to get pregnant and figured instead of a turkey baster or whatever the hell they do to shoot sperm up in you, you’d go for the deluxe package and get a few orgasms out of it?”

I threw my napkin onto my plate. My grandmother was insane if she thought I could co-parent with this man. “This was a mistake. There’s no talking to you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, darlin’. You haven’t tried once to talk to me. You’ve talked at me—a lot. You’ve accused me, insulted me. But talk to me? I gotta wonder if you even know how. You’re so used to giving orders and lookin’ down at people, I don’t think you know how to talk to anyone.”

I pushed myself up from the table and smoothed my hand over my dress. “I refuse to sit here and be insulted. This was a mistake. I don’t see how we could possibly even attempt to raise this child together.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who said anything about us doing this together? I told you. I’m not a relationship guy. I have no intention of settling down. Not at this stage of my life, that’s for damn sure.”

“Just as well. We can’t even sit through a meal together. Could you imagine trying to navigate weekends and holidays? It would never work. Thank you for dinner. The food was exceptional. I’m going to grab my things and go.”

Ian rose quickly. “Wait. Please, just wait. I’m sorry.” He threaded one of his giant hands through his hair. “This is all…a lot. How about we call it a night and talk again in the morning, okay? I don’t want you to leave. It’s almost nine. You’re already settled in upstairs. I really want you to stay. Just go rest and tomorrow we’ll have breakfast and talk. Calmly. Like two adults.”

I sniffed. “I believe I was speaking like an adult.”

“My bad. I’ll speak like an adult too. Tomorrow. Over breakfast.” He came around to where I stood and wrapped his hand around my upper arm. “Okay? I’m sorry. I really am.”

I gnawed on the inside of my lip and nodded. Unable to answer.

“Good. Thanks. Do you need anything?” he asked.

“No thank you. I have everything I need. Goodnight, Ian.”

He leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on my forehead. It was sweet and unexpected but didn’t change a thing. “See you in the morning.”

I didn’t want to lie, so I didn’t bother to answer.

Coming here had been a huge mistake.