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  At least it was until I put my hands on her.

  When I touched her maybe it wasn’t exactly her heart that was fully in control but there was no doubt her body was eager to tell her brain to take a backseat for once. I kind of hoped that if I played my cards right I could get her heart to have as much say as her brain did. I didn’t want to think about the logic in Beryl’s warning about things going south with Sayer while I needed her to help me iron out the situation with Hyde. I couldn’t think about going through any of this without her there to show me the way. I needed more than her help. I needed her and the calm confidence she exuded when it came to assuring me she could handle helping me get my son where he belonged.

  I was a man that constructed and refurbished things for a living. If I was intent on one woman, on having not only her but a life with her at the center of it, then there was no way I was going to build anything that wasn’t one hundred percent indestructible even if that meant getting in there and knocking down some walls and pulling up some of the existing structure. Sayer Cole was a project I couldn’t wait to get my hands on.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sayer

  I was sitting at my desk aimlessly sifting through what seemed like an endless sea of paperwork and case files when there was a light tap on my office door. I pushed the paper that was full of words my tired eyes had blurred together away in frustration and told the person on the other side of the door to come in.

  Carla Dragon was an amazing paralegal, and the only one on staff who hadn’t been on my last nerve over the last few weeks. I knew I was extra tense and not nearly as focused as I usually was ever since the state had agreed to have Hyde’s DNA tested against Zeb’s. I knew that I shouldn’t be as personally invested in the outcome as I was, but every day that passed I felt like I was waiting for a giant hammer to fall while we waited for the results to come in. I felt like the answer was almost as important to me as it was to Zeb. Which meant experiencing more emotions that were setting me off-kilter and making me decidedly uncomfortable.

  Zeb called pretty much every other day to see if there was any word even though I told him repeatedly I would let him know as soon as the paperwork hit my desk. His anxiety and investment in the outcome of the test only served to fuel my own unease, and I could tell he was chomping at the bit to make things happen, to move things along so that he could get access to the child. I admired it, and him, but there was a tiny little piece of doubt that nagged at a place in my chest because even though I talked to the handsome contractor nearly once a day, he hadn’t brought up getting together for that date he’d asked me about.

  Logically I knew the timing was off and that we both had far more pressing things to handle at the moment, but the old uncertainty I had spent a lifetime fighting against because it had been ruthlessly drilled into me that I wasn’t enough, wasn’t worth time or effort from anyone, needled me no matter how hard I tried to push back against it. Zeb wasn’t ignoring me or dismissing me, but the memory of how it felt when someone you cared about did, pricked at my skin.

  “Hey, you doing okay? This is the third night this week you’re at your desk well after the rest of the partners have left for the day.” Carla entered the office and took a seat across from my uncharacteristically cluttered desk. My gaze went to the manila folder she had in her hands and narrowed. Carla was a lovely young woman with a sharp mind, quick wit, and a laser focus on the career path she wanted. It didn’t surprise me she was also working late. I knew that currently she was happy being a paralegal at one of the top family law firms in Colorado, but she made it known that eventually she wanted to be the one sitting behind the big, messy desk pushing case files around. She worked full-time for us and also had a family. I had no idea how she was going to make law school happen, but I admired her drive and her confidence that she could handle it all. I needed a little bit of that can-do attitude for myself.

  In Seattle my life had been structured, rigid, and painfully predictable. When I uprooted myself, threw caution to the wind, and came to Colorado, I was operating completely in unfamiliar territory. I was scrambling in pretty much every aspect of my life outside of work, because everything was so unfamiliar. I had a family I didn’t need to beg for affection. I had someone in my life who knew how to love and be loved without games. I had feelings threatening to overwhelm me where a man was concerned, and I had someone relying on me to be strong for them, to help them heal when I was nothing more than an ugly and open wound myself. I never felt like I was doing any of it correctly outside of the courtroom, but I tried.

  “I’m just playing catch-up. I’m not sure how I managed to get so far behind on things, but I am.”

  She lifted her eyebrows at me and tilted her head to the file I had open in front of me on top of the mess of the other ones. “Could it be the fact that you haven’t looked at anything other than that case file for the last two weeks? Every time I’m in your office it’s open on your desk and you’re staring at it.”

  There was no missing the black-and-white mug shot of Zeb or the angry downturn of his mouth in the image. It was well before his face was covered in fuzz and I couldn’t get over how young he looked and how furious he seemed in the image. That wasn’t the Zeb Fuller I knew and dreamed about at night, but it was a version of Zeb that existed and could prove very difficult to deal with when it came to fighting for his kid. The idea that passion could be so wild and dangerous taunted me.

  I knew all about the assault charge and the fact he had pled no contest and served his time. The hiccup and the surprise in the mix was the additional charge of endangering the welfare of a child. The police report was vague and so were the notes from the public defender who handled Zeb’s case. But from what I could piece together, Zeb had gone after his sister’s boyfriend and hurt him badly enough to put the guy in the hospital for several weeks. The attack on the other man had happened at the sister’s apartment and well within the view of the sister’s then three-year-old little girl. The arresting officer claimed the child was terrified and crying. He claimed she wouldn’t even look at him or stop screaming when he came to intervene in the situation, thus prompting him to add the endangerment charge. It wasn’t uncommon for the police to level that charge upon physically violent parents who fought each other with no regard to how their actions might end up affecting the mental well-being of their kids. It was slightly more unusual for the charge to fall on a relative of the child, especially one who didn’t share the home with the minor, and in Zeb’s case it was going to make going before a judge decidedly more complicated.

  “He’s a friend, so the case is more personal. I’m tied up in it a little more than I probably should be.”

  Carla flashed me a knowing grin and leaned forward with the envelope she had in her hand. “He’s a cute friend. I can see wanting things to be very personal with him.” I rolled my eyes at her and reached across the mess in front of me for the envelope in her hand. My heart skipped several beats and then decided to start doing the tango when I saw the name of the lab the state used for all of its testing on the label.

  My reaction must have been telling because Carla laughed a little as she climbed to her feet. “I was on my way out but had to drop a divorce amendment in the mail to go out tomorrow and caught the delivery guy just as he was dropping this off at the front desk. I knew you would want it as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, thank you.” My fingers curled around the envelope like there was something precious and easily breakable inside. The contents inside of that simple manila covering were life changing. It seemed like they should be wrapped in something much more substantial than paper.

  Carla walked across my office toward the door and paused at the threshold.

  “Aren’t you going to rip into it? I thought you would be tearing into the results like a wolverine, as distracted and hung up on this case as you’ve been the last few weeks.”

  I looked from the envelope to the paralegal and slowly shook my head in the negativ
e. It was common for the attorney representing the questioning party in a paternity case to first look at the results and then figure out the best way to break the news, good or bad, to their client. In this particular case I knew Zeb needed to be the one to break the seal on the envelope. He needed to be the first person to lay eyes on the results to verify if little Hyde was in fact his. I felt it deep down in my guts that taking the results to him and letting him uncover the answer on his own was the right way to go about it.

  “No. In this case I think the client needs to see the results first.”

  “That’s different from how you normally handle paternity cases.” There was questioning in her tone as I moved some files around and searched for my cell phone in the wreckage on the top of my desk. I needed to take twenty minutes and clean everything up so I could put my mind and my work space back in functioning order.

  “Like I said, this client is a friend and things are unorthodox all around.” Including the irrational way my body and everything that throbbed and pulsed deep down inside of me leaped to life from the first instant I’d laid eyes on Zeb.

  “Right. It’s personal. Be careful with that, Sayer. Making anything that has to do with the law personal is a recipe for disaster. How many clients have you had to talk off the ledge because love wasn’t enough to fight against protocol and judge’s orders? You’re a great attorney and it looks like your friend needs you to be that more than anything else.” She told me good night and left my office door open since I was now officially the last person left in the upscale building in Lower Downtown Denver.

  I tapped the corner of my phone on the open case file that had Zeb’s too-young face staring up at me in black and white. Even that harsh image had my heart kicking against my ribs. Carla’s warning had merit . . . too much of it.

  If the results that I held in my hand were, in fact, positive for paternity, then Zeb needed me to be his legal representative way more than he needed me to be a woman with a ridiculous crush. I was going to be more useful to him in a professional capacity than I would be in a personal one, and as much as it made my insides dip and dive toward my toes, I realized that was how I was going to have to approach my dealings with him from now on. I needed to bring back the ice queen—the way I’d been when he was working on my house. Somehow I needed to ignore the inadvisable lust and remember that, really, we were just two people with very little in common and not a chance in hell of having a functioning romantic relationship.

  I flipped the folder closed on that face that was following me everywhere, picked up my phone, and hit Zeb’s contact info. The phone rang and rang, which I thought was strange, as anxious as he had been for any news about the results. Usually I was running to catch his calls or to call him back, so the fact that my call went to voicemail made me frown and had immediate thoughts of what—and who—could be occupying his time running around like angry squirrels in my mind. Frustrated and slightly disgusted with myself, I tossed the envelope on top of the now closed case file and told myself I was leaving Zeb here, in my office, along with hundreds of other cases that were on my desk and in the filing cabinets behind it.

  I was pulling bobby pins out of the coil of my hair, peeling panty hose off my legs, and kicking my heels off so I could put on my hot-pink Vans, courtesy of a shopping trip with my brother’s oh-so-hip and stylish girlfriend. They were quirky and casual, and before I moved to Colorado I never would have worn them. Even when I moved out of my father’s house for college. It wasn’t until I took the leap, took the risk to come to Denver and find Rowdy, that I could take itty-bitty baby steps toward not analyzing how every single decision I made would ultimately affect me. I could wear pink shoes because they were cute and not worry about getting looked down upon for that choice. Only my father could take something as simple as a pair of shoes and turn them into a reflection of a person’s worth and perceived shortcomings.

  I was gathering up my laptop to put in my bag when my phone shrilled from the spot where I had tossed it. It was startlingly loud in the quiet of my office, and when I saw Zeb’s name on the display it made me groan out loud into the empty space as I felt my pulse kick in response.

  I plowed my fingers through my now loose hair and put the phone to my ear. As soon as I answered I heard heavy breathing and a lot of background noise.

  “Hello?” I asked it questioningly as Zeb’s deep voice hollered out orders to someone who obviously wasn’t me.

  “You need to have someone get out in the drainage ditch next to the driveway with a magnet. I don’t want the neighbors on my ass about nails in their tires. They’re already pissed I had you guys work late the last two nights. Hello? Sayer, is that you? Did you call me? Is there news?”

  He sounded just as keyed up and anxious as he always did when we spoke and I wanted to curl up in a ball of shame for thinking anything different just because he wasn’t able to answer my call. I leaned forward and put my forehead on the edge of the desk with a solid thunk.

  “Sayer? Are you okay? What’s going on?” Great. Now he was worried about me because I was acting like a dolt.

  I sucked in a deep breath and told myself to get it together. “I’m good. I’m still at the office and just happened to get some last-minute mail. It’s something I think you’ll want to see. I was going to offer to bring it over to your place, but it sounds like you’re still working, too. You can swing by my office in the morning if you want.”

  He got really quiet on the other end of the phone and I could hear the guys on his crew in the background and the sound of cars as he breathed low and steady in my ear.

  “Zeb?” I didn’t want to ask if he was okay because I knew he wasn’t. His life was going to change even if the adorable little boy who looked just like him was, in fact, not his. Even if Hyde wasn’t his son I had a feeling that knowing the little boy was caught up in the system with no family and no one to look out for him wouldn’t sit well with him. Zeb was a fixer by nature and this little boy was most definitely on his project list.

  He cleared his throat and I could picture him pacing back and forth as he pushed his free hand through his too long hair where it flopped over his forehead. Whoever would have thought being unkempt was so unbelievably sexy?

  “Did you look at them? The results, I mean . . . am I a father?”

  I put a hand to my chest as my heart squeezed like it had a fist around it when his voice broke on the last word. So much for keeping it all professional from here on out.

  “No. I didn’t open the envelope. I figured that was something you needed to do. I know how worried you’ve been.”

  He barked out a laugh so ugly and harsh it made my skin rise up in goose bumps. “Worried? Fuck being worried, Sayer. I feel like the world has stopped spinning, like every goddamn thing I do or say is all backward because I can’t think about anything but the kid. It’s been weeks and he’s still in foster care, alone and probably terrified. He needs to know he has family. He needs to know he has me.” He swore some more and then sighed. “I ran into a problem with the install of the new electrical system at my current job and then my buddy Asa asked me to look at a space he’s thinking about investing in, so I’m a week behind on this renovation. I’ve been pushing the guys hard this week, and I still have some things I need to finish up tonight. I hate to ask since the jobsite looks like a tornado blew through it, but would you mind swinging by here on your way home with the results? If not I can come by your place later and pick them up. I don’t think I have the patience to wait until the morning.”

  I picked the envelope up off the desk and tucked it into my purse. “I’ll come to you. Just give me directions.”

  His sigh of relief was audible as he rattled off an address in a part of Denver I wasn’t exactly familiar with called the Highlands. I jotted down the information and told him I would see him in a few. But not before carefully asking, “Zeb, do you want to maybe call a friend or someone in your family? I know you’ve been waiting for what seems like for
ever to see what this test says, but when you see it, when it becomes real, you may not want to deal with it on your own.”

  I had seen the way earth-shaking news sent someone into an emotional tailspin more than once. I wanted to make sure Zeb had all the support he needed to soften the blow.

  “You’re going to be here, right?” His deep voice was extra raspy and the goose bumps that followed the way it dragged through my ears had nothing to do with unease this time around.

  “Yes. I’ll be there.”

  “Then you’re the only person I need while I find out if I am Hyde’s father. Honestly, if the results are negative I think my mother might take it harder than me. She’s already calling the little guy her grandson. I don’t want to disappoint her.” There was an edge to his voice when he said it.

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see me and pushed my hair over my shoulders. It was tangled and all kinds of wavy and messy from being twisted and tied up all day.

  “Okay, then. See you soon.”

  He grunted his good-bye, and I had a brief moment of panicked indecision about whether I should put my heels and panty hose back on so that even if I wasn’t feeling particularly professional where he and his case was concerned, I could at least look it, but then decided he had been waiting long enough for this paperwork and my own insecurity and ridiculousness wasn’t a good enough reason to keep him waiting any longer.

  I shut my office up, made my way down the elevator, and waved good-bye to the guard who kept an eye on the building after hours.

  The directions that Zeb had given me led to an area of town that was actually really close to the lower part of downtown and just across the interstate. It was a neighborhood that was obviously in the middle of some serious gentrification, if the polished new storefronts next to the abandoned and broken ones were any indication. It was the kind of place that Realtors referred to as up-and-coming and it was obviously a neighborhood that could pay off big-time for an investor who knew what they were doing in the tricky housing market. When I pulled up in front of the cottage that matched the address that Zeb had given me, it was clear the man knew what he was doing.