Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Rowan
I was turning away from the door of the guest room, an empty smile on my face, when Chance’s words sank in.
With a glance at him, I tried to decipher his intent.
Move in?
Here?
Was he making a move? Like, wanting to be a couple? A living-together couple?
No. Of course not.
He was being kind. Generous. A good guy. We hardly knew each other. We didn’t have a true friendship, let alone a relationship, unless you counted that, oh, he was my boss .
“We can’t do that,” I said. “I can’t move in with my boss.”
A grin crawled across his features. “I’m not your boss.”
“You kind of are.”
“Chloe’s your boss.”
“You’re the boss of marketing things, and apparently I have to do marketing things.”
His smile faded. “You don’t want to do marketing?”
“It’s fine, Chance. That’s not the point here.”
“Right. The point is that you need a place to live. I have lots of room.”
I tried to think of the shit ton of ramifications living here would have. His daughter. Our coworkers. The town gossip train. Us .
No, not us. We weren’t an us .
“That sounds like it could cause all kinds of problems,” I said.
He let out a sardonic chuckle. “You mean more problems than having a baby together after a one-night fling in a small town will cause?”
I had to laugh along with him. If I didn’t, I’d cry. “Good point. But what’s your daughter going to say?”
“I’d like to think she would be on board with helping out one of my coworkers.”
“Or your underlings,” I said.
“Rowan, stop. Rusty Anchor isn’t like that. It’s too small. We’re more like a work family than a corporation with a strict hierarchy.”
“I know,” I allowed.
I tried to imagine sleeping across the hall from this man. This man who taunted my thoughts, as it was, when I was sleeping alone in my safe little room at the inn.
“How would that work exactly?” I asked.
“You’d move your belongings into this room”—he slapped the doorframe—“and anywhere else you want. I don’t know. You can hole up in your room if you want to, or you can make yourself at home in the rest of the house. It’s a big house for three people.”
I frowned as I thought through the idea. Would I ever feel comfortable curling up in his living room to read a book? Bingeing reality TV in his family room? Cooking my dinner in his kitchen?
“I’m looking at a place tomorrow,” I told him.
“What place?”
“It’s a garage apartment on”—I pulled my phone out to look up the street name—“Cherry Street.”
“Let’s talk more while I clean up the kitchen.”
“I’ll help.” I was determined to, even though my stomach was still uneasy.
We went back downstairs, my gaze taking in everything as I imagined what it would be like to live here. The house itself was cozy, comfy, well-kept, and clean. The place wasn’t the issue.
The issue was the man. My attraction to him. Well, that and a jillion other details.
Would living in the same house, seeing his human side—the side that left socks on the floor or sang off-key in the shower or whatever his annoying habits were—would that snuff out the sparks of attraction? Or would it intensify them?
“A garage apartment, huh?” Chance asked as he tidied the kitchen counter.
“It’s small, but it would be just me.”
“Then you and a baby.”
I started washing one of the pans. “Right. How would that work here though? A baby will shake up everything. I can be a quiet, invisible roommate until the baby’s born.”
“You won’t have to be quiet or invisible here.”
“Sam might think otherwise.”
“Sam doesn’t pay the mortgage.”
“But she’s your daughter. I don’t want to do anything to cause trouble between you two.”
He let out a hollow laugh. “Oh, I think that ship sailed when I got you pregnant. She’s going to have a hard time with that. But that’s on me to navigate.”
“She’s going to hate me as soon as she finds out the truth,” I said.
“I’d like to think we’ll help her work through that. At any rate, Sam will have a lot to process whether you’re living here or not. If you’re living here, she can get to know you.”
Part of me really wanted to meet his daughter, but another part was terrified.
I’d handled teenagers all the time as a teacher. I could usually develop a good rapport, even with some of the harder cases. But the stakes were high here. Sam would be my baby’s half sibling. I didn’t know how big Chance’s extended family was, but mine was nonexistent. I didn’t want to ruin their chances for a sibling relationship even before the baby’s birth.
Chance took the clean pan from me and dried it.
“What happens when the baby’s born?” I asked.
“Then we parent him or her together.”
“And I just…live here?” I shook my head. Our situation seemed more and more outrageous the further into the future I considered.
Chance shrugged as if it wasn’t a big deal. “For as long as you want to.”
“I want my own house.” Particularly if he ever got involved with someone new. The thought of him going on dates, falling in love… A pang of jealousy hit me. I didn’t want to witness any of that.
“Then you can get your own house when you’re ready. If you live here now, rent will be cheap, and you can save money.”
“How cheap?” I asked, thinking of that insurance premium I’d committed to.
“A couple hundred a month.”
“Stop. That’s not rent.”
“It’s my house. I can pay the mortgage just fine. You’re trying to get back on your feet.”
“There’s a fine line between getting back on my feet and being a charity case.”
He set the dry pan down hard on the counter and turned to me. “Rowan. You’re carrying my child. I want to do whatever I can to support you. That’s not charity. It’s in my best interests—and the baby’s—that you’re in a safe, healthy place.”
I could see his point when he said it like that, but two hundred dollars?
Rent that low would be a godsend for sure.
But there was that downside. That proximity to Chance. Kind, sexy, way-too-tempting Chance.
“Let me think about it for a few days,” I said as I finished washing the second pan. “I’ll go through the garage apartment tomorrow and keep checking for new listings.”
“Whatever you need to do. Just know the offer stands.”
As I handed the pan to him, I turned to face him, met his handsome gaze, and said, “Okay,” on an exhalation. “Options are good. Thank you.”
I needed to make this decision based on logic, after weighing my options carefully, not on emotions or attraction. My baby was depending on me to be smart about every decision I made from here on out.
No pressure. No pressure at all.