Page 28 of Alaskan Blackout
Agitation redoubled at the memory of those two pink lines on each of the three pregnancy tests she’d taken since returning from the Attu trip. How could she possibly be expecting a child after a single sexual encounter with the first man to turn her head in a year and a half? And they’d used protection. Could the universe honestly have that sense of humor?
She tipped her forehead to the cool glass of the mirror and thunked it gently against the reflective surface. “McKenna. McKenna. McKenna.”
Doubting the process was drumming any sense into her, she straightened and peered back at her own image. She’d cleaned up well after the last few days of angst over her situation. She’d found a long-forgotten little black dress in her closet for the evening with Quinton, and the fabric hugged her curves without being too overt. The cut was simple but flattering, with long sleeves and ending just above her knee. A swath of fine black merino wool wrapped around the middle and tied at the back, a small feminine detail that gave the dress interest. She hadn’t fashioned a bow but had made a simple knot so the two ends hung long behind her.
With the addition of diamond earrings—a gift from Clayton for her twenty-first birthday—she looked almost like the woman she’d been before the Great Flight into Alaska to escape the world’s judgment. Almost. Because that woman was gone forever.
The McKenna staring back at her now was a ghost of that naive girl.
Scratch that. She wasn’t a ghost. But a stronger iteration. McKenna 2.0.
Soon to be a mother.
She was saved from falling down another spiral of worry by Loki’s bark. At her feet, her two pets were seated on either side of her while she finished getting ready for her outing. Glancing down at them, McKenna gave the furry pup a scratch on the head to soothe him, knowing the cat had a knack for winding him up.
Stroking the Havanese’s silky fur had the added benefit of calming her nerves a little too. Or at least it did until the doorbell rang and Loki darted away from her to run down the stairs, yapping excitedly to greet a guest.
Quinton.
She met her own worried eyes in the mirror one last time before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs. Her high-heeled black boots tapped along the tile as she wondered how on earth she was going to tell him about the pregnancy. She had no game plan for tonight, other than a deal with herself that she would spill the news before she landed back on her doorstep.
And if the thought of sharing the news with Quinton seemed daunting, how would she ever tell Clayton? He hadn’t wanted to ever see any of his brothers again and had gone to great lengths to keep his whereabouts a secret. Yet this news would inevitably bring Clay and Quinton together.
Wouldn’t it? Her heart ached at the thought of hurting her brother.
Pausing on the waterproof front mat to let out a breath, McKenna braced herself to see her date. The father of her child.
She yanked open the door with more force than she intended, causing Quinton’s brown eyes to widen slightly as Loki barked a greeting. An amused smile played about the corners of Quinton’s lips. He stood on the front step in a dark suit and gray overcoat, a bouquet of dark purple orchids and calla lilies in his hands.
“I hope that greeting means you’ve been looking forward to seeing me.” He extended the bouquet as his gaze slid over her. “You look beautiful, McKenna.”
Her throat went dry as his eyes locked with hers. She hadn’t been prepared for romantic gestures like flowers and compliments. Hadn’t he been ready to bolt after the blackout?
Yet her heart rate responded favorably to his attention, her traitorous body remembering how much she liked his focus on her. The last time he’d been here, they’d ended up naked in front of the fireplace, wringing pleasure from one another as easily as if they’d been lovers for years.
“Thank you.” Her words rasped a little, her emotions all over the place as she took the blooms from him, her fingers brushing his warm hands. Desire stirred inside her, quickening her pulse still more. “Please come on in while I find something to put them in.” Then, bending toward her dog, she made sure to include him in the invitation since his training had taken a step back while she’d been out of town for two weeks. “Loki, come.”
Happily, her pet followed her into the farmhouse-style kitchen while Quinton took off his coat and left his shoes by the door. She appreciated his thoughtfulness since the outdoors were perpetually damp these last few days.
Although something about having him pad across the plank flooring in his socks felt intimate. Like he belonged here.
She shook off the thought and calmed her nerves with routine.
While she gave Loki a treat for his good behavior and then found a vase for the bouquet, Quinton stood near the entrance, his attention fixed on the photos in the hallway. For a moment she stiffened, recalling that she’d brought home the postcard that Clayton had sent to the bar so she could enjoy looking at it here. Clay hadn’t written on it or anything. But there was a postmark on it that she didn’t want Quinton to see.
Her heart pounded hard as she watched him, wondering if he’d noticed the card with a picture of a wolf. The height and breadth of Quinton seemed to fill the room even when he moved around the perimeter.
But he walked right past the postcard with the wolf. Relief whooshed through her.
“I noticed these the day of the blackout but didn’t get a chance to ask you about them,” Quinton mused aloud, looking every inch the successful tech CEO that he was in his bespoke suit. He tapped a knuckle against an image of her and Clay on theUn-Reel, a massive Chinook salmon in her hands. “Have you always had an interest in fishing? Or is that something you took up once you moved here?”
Her fingers faltered on the kraft paper around the flowers. “I’ve fished since I was a little girl,” she admitted slowly, thinking back to spring mornings on Cedar River with her dad while she unwrapped the arrangement of exotic purple flowers. “My father taught me at a young age. He’s an alcoholic, and we don’t speak anymore. But our time on the water together was always fun. It gave me at least one happy memory of him.”
Quinton turned around to face her, walking deeper into the kitchen. Freya circled his feet, warming to him with unusual speed. But then, both of her pets had spent some time with him during the storm. Maybe they’d grown attached to him then.
The same way she had.
“So your father married Clay’s mother?” Quinton asked as he scooped up the cat to pet her, winning bonus points in McKenna’s book for not minding a little fur on his sleeve.