Little Secrets: Claiming His Pregnant Bride. Sarah M. AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
had made it clear that splitting Roger off from the business was going to be quite complicated, which was one way to say that her father wasn’t going to do it because he was beyond furious with her.
So it had been Kate to decide that, rather than grovel before her father and Roger, she’d start over. She was the one who put distance between them.
It had hurt more than she wanted it to, to be honest. Although she’d known it wasn’t likely, she’d wanted her parents to put her first. She’d wanted them to take her side and tell her it’d all work out. She’d wanted her mom to get excited about the pregnancy.
She’d wanted the impossible. Oh, Mom was excited—to the extent that she’d underlined the word excited three times in the congratulations card she’d sent. Other than that, there’d been no discussion of pregnancies, no trips down memory lane, no planning for the baby’s room.
There hadn’t been anything, really, since Kate had walked out of their house and driven back to the hotel where she’d been staying since Seth had dropped her off and paid for three nights.
And the hell of it was, it wasn’t like they had put Roger first. No, Joe and Kathleen Burroughs had done what they always did—they’d put their business first. Burroughs Realty—Burroughs and Caputo Realty now—had always been the most important thing. Her father hadn’t disowned her outright, but it was clear that, for the time being, there was no point in pursuing a family relationship. Joe Burroughs was a workaholic and Kathleen refused to go against her husband’s wishes.
No, the business came first, and Roger was now part owner of the business, which meant that Roger came first. So Kate had left because she hadn’t wanted to make things difficult for her mother.
Harold Zanger, gregarious and happy, had offered her a job. Kate strongly suspected it had put a strain on his friendship with Joe Burroughs, but Harold insisted everything was fine. Of course, he was an eternal optimist, so perhaps everything was. Harold had given her a desk and a blazer and some business cards and told her to “get out there and sell some houses, sweetheart.”
If anyone else had called Kate sweetheart, she would’ve walked, but Harold had been calling her sweetheart since she was old enough to crawl—probably even before that.
So here she was. Ready to get out there and sell some houses for Zanger Realty.
“Today’s the day,” Harold said, snapping the suspenders underneath his Zanger Realty blazer, which was a delightful shade of goldenrod. “Something big is going to happen today, Katie my girl. I can feel it.”
There was comfort in familiarity and Harold said this to her every morning. She hadn’t believed it at first—she still didn’t really believe it—but Harold’s optimism was infectious.
“Today’s the day,” she agreed.
“Your big sale,” Harold all but crowed, “is going to walk through that door. I just know it.”
“I’m sure it will,” she said with an indulgent smile. Really, it was sweet that Harold believed what he said, because that was just the kind of man he was and had always been. If opposites attract, then that held true for friendships, too. Joe Burroughs had been a pessimist, convinced that tomorrow the bottom would fall out and the world would end and so he’d better sell a house today so that his family would have something to live on. Disaster was always lurking right around the corner for Joe Burroughs, so he had to miss his daughter’s concerts and plays because there was work to be done.
Harold was the opposite. Today was a good day. Tomorrow would be even better. It would all work out in Harold’s world, and Kate would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t need that in her life right now.
Because she was three months pregnant. She’d sold exactly two houses—but they hadn’t been big sales. She’d earned enough on commission to rent a two-bedroom apartment and buy some secondhand furniture. But she had to sell a lot of houses in the next six months if she wanted to be able to take time off when she had her baby.
Roger would pay child support. Just because he didn’t love her and she didn’t love him didn’t mean that he would leave her out to dry. Roger wasn’t a bad guy, really.
But when they had sat down face-to-face and confronted the aftermath of their relationship and the baby that would always tie them together, it had been clear—he’d been relieved that she’d walked away. And he hadn’t even tried to hide it. He’d gone on their honeymoon trip to Hawaii without her and he hadn’t missed her at all.
Even more than that, Roger had been relieved when her father had not asked him to give up his stake in the real estate business. Which really had Kate wondering—had he been marrying her because of her or for the business?
She knew the answer—the business—but she couldn’t think about that.
If she ever had another wedding, she would be damned sure she was marrying someone who wanted her. Not her family’s business. Not her name.
Her. Kate Burroughs. Future single mom and semiprofessional hot mess.
Aside from child support, Roger made something else clear—they were done. He wasn’t going to be an active part of raising his child. It was painful, it really was. But at the same time, it was also a relief. She wouldn’t have to worry about navigating around Roger at the same school plays and concerts that her own father had skipped. She wouldn’t have to negotiate who would get the baby for Christmas and birthdays. It would be simpler without Roger.
It would be harder—she was under no illusions that being the single mother of a newborn wouldn’t be the hardest thing she’d ever done. But she only had to negotiate with herself.
She was on her own. For the first time in her life, she didn’t have to answer to anyone. Not her father, not Roger, not her mother. There was something freeing about that. Terrifying, but freeing.
Harold went back to his office and Kate turned to her listings. She had been a real estate agent for years, so it wasn’t like she was learning on the job. She knew what to do. She had grown up at Burroughs Realty, copying things for her parents and then going with them when they looked at houses. She’d learned how to stage a house when she was in high school. Her parents had paid her for her help, although not a lot.
She could sell a home in her sleep. But she needed buyers and sellers. She needed someone to walk through that door and instead of asking for Harold, to ask for Kate. That was what she’d had at Burroughs Realty. She had been a Burroughs, and any Burroughs would do for some people. The name was the important thing.
As her thoughts often did when she was faced with the weight of her future, she imagined that one person in particular walking through the door—a tall, dark, mysterious biker. A man who looked dangerous and yet treated her as if she were worth protecting.
Seth Bolton.
She had not seen him since he had taken her to a local hotel and shaken her hand in the lobby. He hadn’t even suggested that he come up to the room and make sure she got settled. He was too good a guy for that.
That had to be why she couldn’t stop thinking about him. It had felt like...like there was unfinished business between them. Which was ridiculous. They didn’t have any business together to begin with. She’d had the worst day of her life and he’d taken pity on her. That was all there was—a Good Samaritan doing a kind deed for a woman having a really terrible day. Because there was no way a man like that was single or available. And even if he were—why would he be interested in her? She had not made the best of first impressions.
Looking back at what had happened over six weeks ago, she could see with a little objective distance that she had been in a state of complete and total shock. Discovering she was pregnant had left her stunned. Deciding she couldn’t marry Roger had been a realization that sent her reeling. Each shock mounted upon the next. She still didn’t remember stealing the limo, but at least she hadn’t been arrested. Whatever Seth had done or said to the limo owner had worked. The cops hadn’t gotten involved, and she was beyond