Inheriting His Secret Christmas Baby(22)
Author: Heidi Betts

“Hell, yes,” Trevor responded without a qualm. He might not have planned to become a parent at this point in his life, if ever, but now that Bradley was here, and he knew for certain that the boy was his son… Well, he was just about bursting with love and pride for the kid. And he missed him, dammit. Already.

“I take it Haylie doesn’t feel the same,” Blake said carefully. “Is she going to fight you for custody?”

“I don’t know,” Trevor replied honestly. “We didn’t quite get that far.”

“So why did she leave?”

That caused Trevor’s lips to twist. “I guess she didn’t feel comfortable living with me any longer after I asked her to marry me and she turned me down flat.”

Blowing out a surprised breath, Blake sat back. “Wow. I have to tell you, that surprises me. The way you two have been getting along these past few weeks, I would have expected her to accept. Or at least stick around long enough to see where things between you could lead.”

“Tell me about it,” Trevor muttered.

“Never thought I’d see the day a woman turned you down for anything, little brother,” Blake teased. “Especially once you told her you loved her.”

Trevor’s eyes widened. “Whoa,” he said, rocking uncomfortably in his chair. “Who said anything about love?”

For a minute, dead silence echoed through the room. And then Blake said, “Please tell me you didn’t propose without telling her you love her.”

When Trevor didn’t respond, Blake added in a tone part disbelieving, part chastising, “What were you thinking?”

Sitting up straight, Trevor moved to rest his forearms on his desk. “It isn’t about love,” he told his brother, “it’s about what’s best for Bradley.”

“And what would that be?”

“Having two loving parents in his life, full time. Not being passed back and forth between caretakers and residences like an afterthought.”

If anyone should have been able to understand Trevor’s feelings on the subject of caring for and raising Bradley, it was Blake, who had a child of his own on the way now. One he at least knew about and could prepare for, Trevor thought wryly.

“Agreed. One hundred percent,” his brother agreed. “But that’s not what you’re talking about, are you? You’re talking about using a marriage certificate so you can have a live-in nanny. One who will also warm your bed.”

Trevor blinked in surprise. Where did Blake get off making such a crass remark? One that was completely off base, no less.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “If I wanted a nanny, live-in or otherwise, I’d simply hire one.”

“Then why marry Haylie?”

“Because she’s Bradley’s aunt and has raised him his whole life. She might as well be his mother, she loves him so much and has taken such good care of him.”

“Right,” Blake said slowly. “And you want to marry her because…”

Trevor’s brow crinkled in a frown. “I just told you—”

“No,” his brother corrected, “you told me you want to keep Haylie in Bradley’s life, and having her move to Aspen to live with you would make that more convenient for you. What you haven’t told me is why you want to make her your wife. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health… I’m sure you’ve heard the vows before.”

Growing aggravated with Blake’s obscure riddles, Trevor sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose where a headache was forming. “What’s your point?” he asked.

“Given your dating history, I’d think you’d have picked up on this by now. But my point, little brother, is that no woman wants to be asked for her hand in marriage because you’re interested in full-time child care. They want flowers and candy and romance. A diamond the size of a walnut wouldn’t hurt, either, but you can’t just say, ‘Hey, I think we should get married so we can both live under the same roof and raise my son together.’ Especially not to a successful, independent woman like Haylie.”

Well, when he put it that way…

A sinking feeling filled Trevor’s stomach at the knowledge that that’s exactly how he’d proposed to Haylie. Blunt, straightforward, unemotional.

He realized, too, that he hadn’t even asked her to marry him, but had simply told her that’s what he thought they should do. He’d proposed business deals with more enthusiasm than he’d proposed marriage to a woman he honest-to-goodness cared for.

In his defense, though, this was all new to him. He’d never even considered asking a woman to marry him before. Never thought about what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with someone. “Love” was still off his radar and a bit too disconcerting to contemplate, but he was willing to admit he felt something for Haylie.

More than he’d feel for just a live-in nanny, thank you very much, he nearly blurted out to Blake. But since he’d apparently already made enough of an ass of himself where his brother was concerned, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“Will you take a word of advice from your big brother?” Blake asked when Trevor remained oddly quiet.

“Sure.” At this point, he’d take anything he could get.

“Figure out how you feel about her. Really feel about her. And if the idea of going through the rest of your life without her in it makes you want to crawl into a hole and die, don’t waste another minute on the whys or what-ifs. Go to her and tell her how you feel. Use the L-word—repeatedly and with great enthusiasm. As someone else who let his pride get in the way of love for far too long, I’m here to tell you you’ll never be sorry.”

With that, Blake pushed to his feet, straightened his suit jacket and moved toward the door. Grasping the handle, he turned back and fixed Trevor with a sober glance.

“For the record,” Blake said quietly, “we all really like Haylie. She’s good for you. And personally, I think you’d be an idiot if you let her get away.”

Without waiting for a response—not that Trevor had one to offer—Blake left the office, closing the door behind him.

So his brothers and sisters and their significant others all liked Haylie, and had obviously been speculating about their relationship behind his back. He should be annoyed, but surprisingly, he wasn’t. He wanted the family to like her.

What he had to figure out, as Blake had suggested, was how he felt about her. And what he was going to do about it once he did.

Fourteen

Why was it that when she was in a hurry, everything including the kitchen sink seemed to fall in her path?

The last thing Haylie needed—because she was in a hurry—was another interruption eating up her time and throwing her even more off schedule. But that’s exactly what she got with a knock on her door bright and early Monday morning.

Thanks to being up half the night with Bradley, who had decided to develop colic and been too cranky to sleep, she was already running dreadfully late. For her first day back at the office after her extended absence, too. Her employees were quite capable and reliable, but still she knew she would be walking into a beehive of activity and returning to a giant game of catch-up.

She wished now that she’d given herself more than just one short weekend of being back in Denver before once again jumping into the fray. She should have simply stayed home without letting anyone know she was actually back. A few days tucked into bed with a gallon of Rocky Road and a stack of tearjerker DVDs sounded better than jumping immediately back into the fray, that was for sure.

Not only that, but in addition to trying to juggle her return to It’s Your Party, she would also be making the long trek back to Aspen tomorrow already…and probably several more times this week because Erica’s wedding was on Friday. Because regardless of her feelings for Trevor at the moment—or the fact that she’d let herself develop feelings for him at all—she would never leave his sister in the lurch.

Admittedly, she’d picked up and taken off without warning and without thinking through every detail of her sudden disappearance. But as soon as she’d gotten home, she’d done the responsible thing by picking up the phone and calling Erica.

She hadn’t mentioned Trevor’s name at all, even though it hadn’t been easy. But she’d been afraid that if she spoke about him, if she so much as thought about him while talking with his sister, she would burst into tears.

So she’d stuck to the facts, or the facts as she was making them up for Erica’s benefit, telling her that she’d been called back to Denver on a business “emergency,” but assuring her that she would return to Aspen as often as necessary, and that everything connected to her Christmas Eve wedding would go off without a hitch.

And she intended to follow through on her promise. She only hoped she would be able to navigate the ins and outs of Jarrod Ridge—especially the Manor—without running into Trevor.

It wouldn’t be easy, that was for sure. She might even have to hire a few extra assistants to run errands for her so that she could hole up in one of the back conference rooms or ballrooms where no one was likely to find her. And she would definitely need to ask someone to run to Trevor’s house to collect all of her and Erica’s things from his office.

With a groan, she once again bemoaned her hasty decision to pack up and leave rather than sticking around and simply dealing with the up-front knowledge that Trevor wanted her in his bed, wanted her as a caretaker for Bradley, but didn’t want her. Not really.

The doorbell rang again, making her want to tear her hair out. She chose instead to mutter a strained curse beneath her breath. The baby was still fussy, she’d spilled formula on the first outfit she’d put on, she couldn’t seem to find her keys, and now—now—someone was on her doorstep, beckoning her to become even more frazzled and late.

It had better be something important, like her landlord reporting a gas leak or a firefighter needing to rescue her from a five-alarm blaze. Because if it was just an annoying salesperson or a neighbor wanting to borrow a cup of sugar, she wouldn’t be responsible for her actions.

With Bradley whimpering from his baby seat in the kitchen, she raced for the front of the apartment, searching for her keys as she went. Yanking the door open with every intention of blurting out, “I don’t want any,” no matter what the person standing on the other side was selling, she stopped short.

The first thing she saw was flowers—a gigantic bouquet of soft pink lilies and roses filling nearly the entire space of the open door. Then a gold-wrapped box the size of a small continent appeared. And higher, as her gaze traveled beyond the outlandish offerings, she found Trevor.

He was dressed in one of his elegant, tailored suits, face smooth and freshly shaven, his dark hair stylishly tousled. He looked like a million bucks—which was probably how much he’d spent on the flowers and what she assumed were gourmet chocolates. But it was Trevor himself, not the gifts, that made her mouth go dry and her head spin like a top.