REED’S FIRST REACTION to the news that he was a father had been anger. Anger that he’d been denied the chance to really be a father. Anger that Crystal and Gina had taken that away from him. Anger that they didn’t want anything from him except his money. Because he hadn’t known he was a father until he’d been served with suit for child support.

Then under that anger, all the old pain, the old doubt—all the baggage associated with the old Reed— surfaced. He was very much that same kid again who wanted so desperately to be enough.

But something akin to longing vied for top tier when he saw Gina sitting there next to her grandmother.

Beautiful, innocent Gina with her ethereal pale skin, her cloud of dark hair and her soft pink lips that always had a smile for him.

He remembered how smooth and soft her hands were on his forehead, the way she’d tenderly pushed his hair out of his face when he’d been racked with fever and chills the first time he’d tried to get clean. There had been no pity in her eyes, only her kindness to ease his suffering.

One of his darkest secrets was that single time he’d slept with Crystal. He’d thought it was Gina, and that made him all kinds of a bastard. Especially when once he’d realized it wasn’t, it had been too good to stop. Something that finally felt good in a hazy world of pain and numbness.

He’d allow that he was still a bastard, but he wasn’t that kid anymore. That kid who’d do anything to feel good, anything to belong, anything to feel like someone gave a damn about him.

He gave a damn about himself and no one, not even Gina Townsend, was going to take that away from him.

Reed had come a long way since then and Gina obviously knew that. She and Crystal hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, hadn’t cared about Amanda Jane’s paternity until that article about him had appeared in Finance Today touting his net worth.

Marriage. What the hell was Gina thinking?

Besides wanting his money?

“I’m on it, Reed. If this is just a money grab on her part, I’ll get you custody of the child, and have her paying you child support before this is over. Parental alienation. It’s a crime.” Gray sounded almost cheerful.

That didn’t make him feel any better. His ego may have wanted Gina and Crystal to suffer, but his heart didn’t. No, he didn’t want that for Gina and Crystal. Crystal’s suffering was over. She’d died and Gina was trying to raise his daughter all on her own.

He was still all twisted up. It was like standing there naked. He’d built this persona around himself, made himself believe he was this successful billionaire, but inside, he was still that guy from a trailer park.

There were days he felt as if any minute someone was going to come tell him that it had all been a mistake and he had to give it back.

And sitting in court next to his lawyer in the town that only knew him as poor white trash kept reminding him that it was a possibility.

“I think we should go to the Bullhorn for lunch.”

“Isn’t that where she works? What are you doing?” Gray shoved his papers in his briefcase.

“I just... I need to see her.” Reed wanted to assure himself that despite all of this, everything they’d both been through, that she was still Gina. Gina of the soft eyes, the tender hands, Gina who would be a good mother.

“You just saw her.”

“No. I need to see her.” He hoped that Gray would understand.

He didn’t. Gray was made of steel and granite. Everything was very simple for him. “That’s what the meeting is for that I’m arranging with her lawyer.”

“Are you coming or what?” Well, he’d drag him along, anyway.

“That’s what I like about you, Hollingsworth. You live to make my job harder.” But Grayson smiled. “How do you know she’s going to work, anyway?”

“She’ll go to work. That’s what she does. A tornado couldn’t keep her away.” That was, if she was still the Gina he knew. Maybe she wasn’t. People were allowed to change. After all, hadn’t he?

Half an hour later Reed found himself sitting alone in a corner at Bullhorn BBQ, Gray having opted to have lunch elsewhere to keep plausible deniability. The place hadn’t changed at all. It still had that rustic mom-and-pop feel to the place—all the meat was smoked out back in a smoker. You could smell this place for miles.

The tables were covered in plastic red-and-white-checkered cloths, the chairs all a mismatched lottery, some scarred and ancient and others with a little less wear. The food was served in red plastic baskets, the kind you’d see in any diner in Nowhere, USA. There was something about the waxy brown paper that lined those baskets that made the food taste better.

Or maybe that was just a good association. Whenever he saw food served like that, it reminded him of the good times of his childhood. Of Gina sneaking food out the back door to him when his mother hadn’t been home in weeks, or she was too stoned to care. The taste had always been like heaven.

It had been years since he’d eaten in a place like this. Now it was all business dinners, charity balls and food prepared by a personal chef.

But as soon as the scent hit him, with a follow-up punch of nostalgia, all that had been wiped away. There was a part of him that wished he was still that screwed-up kid coming to beg food from her. She’d always had a smile for him then. He never had to doubt what she wanted from him.

He’d been worth something to her then.

Some movement caught his eye and he turned to see the object of his thoughts. Having seen her from a distance that morning in court still didn’t prepare him for the reality of her. For the hurricane of emotions that swept through him when he saw her. It was like a physical blow that knocked the breath from his lungs.

At first, he didn’t think it was her—it couldn’t be. She’d been demure this morning, a pale version of herself.

Yet it was her, in all the glorious flesh.

She was wearing a Bullhorn shirt that was stretched snug across her breasts, the horns of the bull curled enticingly over her wares. Gina had never filled out the shirt like that before...

It was tucked into cargo pants that hugged her hips and ass in the most enticing way. And he wasn’t the only one looking. Her ponytail swung as she expertly negotiated the floor with trays of ribs and pulled pork, and he wondered if her hair smelled like that flowery shampoo she loved or if she’d smell just a bit like barbecue. Both made his mouth water.

“Gina-bee!” a small voice exclaimed and someone held up a large, red plastic cup. “Root beer, please?”

He froze, his assessment of Gina finished for the moment. That small voice was a cold splash of reality. Suddenly, he was afraid to look. That could only be Amanda Jane. Her blond curls bounced as she wagged the cup around for Gina’s attention. She looked so much like him, it was uncanny.

His heart did something in that moment. It froze, it melted, it shattered—it did everything a heart could do. He was overwhelmed by the fact that he was a father. This little person—he’d helped create her. She was part of him.

And he didn’t even know her.

His fingers curled into a fist. He didn’t know her because they didn’t want her to know him. Crystal didn’t tell him. He’d have expected Gina to try to get in touch with him, at least.

She had. Now that she knew he had money.

“Certainly not. You’ve had enough.” Gina’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“But I said please.” Amanda Jane’s lower lip curled into an exaggerated pout.

“Yes, you did.” Gina smiled and the expression lit up her face. “Thank you. How about water?”

The pout inflated, but then disappeared. “May I have root beer and ribs tomorrow?”

“I’m surprised you’re not sick of ribs.” Her voice had an indulgent tone to it.

Amanda Jane shook her head. “Never,” she said vehemently.

Gina slid a new glass, presumably filled with water, toward the girl on the way to clear another table.

For a moment, he had a glimpse of a life he’d been afraid to want. Of being a father to a sweet-faced girl who looked much like his own baby photos and being a husband to a woman like Gina.

If he’d had any sharp utensils near, he would have gouged that thought out of his head any way he could. But it was possible. All he had to do was say yes. Gina would do this, if only to keep custody of Amanda Jane.

As if she felt the weight of his gaze, she turned and Gina froze in the midst of wiping her hands on a napkin.

He watched her face change like the ebb and flow of the tide. She was always so easy to read. Reed would’ve thought the world might have hardened her more, taught her to hide her emotions. But everything she felt bloomed bright on her face with no reservations.

For a second, she was surprised to see him, then there was a happiness in her eyes that startled him. He hadn’t expected that—genuine happiness at the sight of him. But it faded quickly into a scowl.

“What do you want?”

“Lunch.” Reed didn’t mean to sound so cavalier, but it was his only defense against her. What else could he say? I came here because I wanted to see you?

He was conflicted about what that thought wrought in him. He didn’t want her to be working the same job, stuck in the same cycle, wasting away—all her potential squandered. But if she was chasing his bank account, what else would she be doing?

Still, she didn’t seem unhappy.

She was gentle with Amanda Jane, patient. That wasn’t the behavior of an addict. That hurt him, pierced his skin and burrowed into his bones. If she hadn’t fallen into the same trap that he and Crystal had, what was she doing still in Glory?

“Maybe you should get it somewhere else.” Her mouth thinned.

“Maybe I should,” he agreed easily. “I wanted to see you.”

“Now you’ve seen me.” Her knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists. “Wasn’t this morning enough?”

“That I have.” He nodded. Reed didn’t know what to say to her. He hadn’t planned on speaking to her, but he should’ve known his presence wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. “And I’m wondering why you’re still working here?”

Her eyes narrowed and for a moment, he thought for sure she was going to do violence.

“Why am I still working here? That’s really what you’re going to ask me after seven years? The last time I saw you was the night before my sister almost died and all you can think to say to me is why I’m still working at the Bullhorn?” Her voice was almost a growl. “I’m working here to support your daughter. What about you? What are you doing to take care of her?”

He hadn’t expected this from her—hell, he didn’t know what he expected. Reed supposed that if he didn’t believe she’d gotten out of the cycle, why should she believe that he had? The balls on this woman: to sue him for child support and then imply she could somehow mandate the terms of his visitation.

There was a part of him that raged at her for daring to speak of it, for digging underneath his skin and tearing at old scars and still prescient fears. That he’d never be anything more than a junkie kid from Whispering Woods.

But he was. He was so much more than that now. He was a man in control of himself and his destiny. He could buy the Bullhorn and fire her, if he chose.

“Don’t push me too hard, Gina. You’ve already shown you can’t take care of her on your own. That’s why you’re suing me for child support. I’ll go for full custody.” He kept his tone low and quiet so only Gina could hear him.

“You’d take her away from me, from the only stability she’s ever known, because you’re afraid of the truth? You’re still just like Crys. Maybe you have some nice suits and you got your teeth fixed, but underneath all of that, you’re still who you’ve always been. The high more important than anything else,” she hissed back, her voice at the same low pitch to keep Amanda Jane from hearing them.

“You don’t know anything about me.” For one horrible moment, he was afraid she was right.

Gina paused and pursed her lips. “You’re right. I don’t. Which is exactly why I don’t want you anywhere near my niece.”

He saw her hands curl into fists and then splay by her side.

“You want my money.” He dared her to deny it.

“I don’t know why I thought you’d be different. I guess those rose-colored glasses were just the remnants of my childhood.”

“Really?” he snorted. “You thought that you could just throw me away when I wasn’t any use to you and now that I’ve made something of myself, it’s convenient to tell me that I might be a father?”

“What I thought was that you might have given a damn. But you didn’t. So no, I don’t want anything from you but a check.” She braced her hands on the table. “That should make you happy. Then you don’t have to do anything but put your name on the dotted line or have your shark lawyer do it for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Maybe you were too blazed out of your mind when Crys told you to remember. But she told you the night she OD’d and she even called your case manager when Amanda Jane was born.”

Her words affected him like a physical blow. “Gina, the day I got served with this suit was the first time I’d heard anything about a child.”

The fire in her eyes simmered to an ember and she studied him hard.

“There’s a part of me that wants to believe you.” She looked away. “Part of me that actually does believe you.” Her voice dropped an octave; it was almost a whisper.

He felt like the world’s biggest asshole. For all her fire, she was still sweet little Gina. And he’d come in here looking for a fight. A place to put all of his pain, his doubt, and a focus for his anger. Anywhere besides himself.

“There’s a part of me that wants to believe you, too.” He inhaled deeply before making his confession. “And there’s this other part of me that thinks you’re like everyone else who wants to take everything I’ve done away from me.”

Because he didn’t deserve it. He was poor white trash from the wrong side of the tracks and no amount of imported cologne could wipe off the stench, or erase the scars on his arms. He didn’t want to believe that, and for a long time, he’d convinced himself that he didn’t. Then he found out he was a father. He found out Gina didn’t want him. Crystal hadn’t wanted him. The people he’d thought were safe weren’t.

He shouldn’t have confessed that to her, shouldn’t have given her anything she could use against him.

Gina sank down in the chair next to him, her shoulders slumped. “I don’t want anything that’s yours. Just what’s hers. If you look at the numbers, I’m not asking for anything extravagant.”

That was a glimpse of the person he’d still hoped she was. In truth, she really hadn’t asked for that much. She was most likely entitled to ten times that given his income. But he’d wondered if it was just because she didn’t know how much to ask for. Except with Amanda Jane’s little face looking over at him, he found that thought to be foreign and cruel. If she really was his daughter, she was entitled to his support.

“No, you’re not.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Reed, I’m doing the best I can.”

He wondered what her best was and sure as hell hoped it was better than what they had growing up. Reed was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. “You’re not still living in Whispering Woods, are you?” He mentioned the trailer park community where they’d grown up.

“No. I’ve got a little house out in the country. Highway 5. You remember the one with the hills that we used to take really fast?”

“Hanging out someone’s sunroof? You remember that time you swallowed a moth?”

She turned to look at him. “I thought I was going to die. It was the nastiest thing.”

“It’s not like you could taste it.”

“No, but I had nightmares about what it was doing in there.”

He laughed. This...this was what he’d wanted from her—hoped for. Why couldn’t he have just spoken to her like this from the beginning? If he was really a better man than he’d once been, he wouldn’t need to be so defensive.

Wouldn’t need to try to put her down or show her how easily he could defeat her.

Again, he couldn’t help but think that he was an asshole. But just like he didn’t have to be an addict, he didn’t have to be this person, either. He could own his actions and he could choose them.

“I’m sorry, Gina.”

It took a long time for her to look up at him and meet his gaze. For a moment, he wasn’t sure she would. When she did, he saw something there he couldn’t name. All he knew was that it cut him.

“For what?” She cocked her head to the side.

“For being an asshole.”

Gina shook her head. “I knew this wouldn’t be easy.” She laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. “When I knew you’d been served, I kind of wanted to throw up. I knew you’d be angry with me. I just... Crys said she told you and you didn’t want anything to do with us. I never thought she’d lie about that. If I thought for one second that you didn’t know about Amanda Jane, I might have gone about it differently.”

“You still can.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want to be a part-time father. I want you to consider what the judge offered.” At the sudden look of fear on her face, he held up his hands as if to ward it off. “Not like that. If we’re in the same household, I can see her whenever I want and so can you.”

She looked as though he’d just punched her. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Hear me out.”

“It would put us at your mercy, right under your thumb.” She shook her head. “You just told me that I didn’t know you and you’re right. I haven’t seen you in seven years.”

“Which is exactly why you should marry me. Don’t you think it would be traumatic for her to suddenly be left with a stranger?”

The fear on her face was back and so was the guilty chill slithering down his spine.

“I can’t talk about this with you.”

He exhaled, sensing that the earlier door to their childhood memories had been slammed in his face.

She stood. “I have to get back to work.”

“Gina?”

She turned back to face him. “What?”

He found everything he thought he wanted to say died on the tip of his tongue and it was nothing but charcoal and memory.

“Me, too, Reed.” She answered the unspoken questions, regrets and hopes with all of her own. All the things he couldn’t seem to tell her, it was as if she knew them all and had them herself.

Perhaps he’d been wrong. Maybe Gina did know him, after all. She seemed to sense everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

He wondered why it was so easy to say all the wrong things, but the right ones were practically impossible.

As he watched her walk away, he wondered what the hell he’d been thinking, asking her to marry him. That was pure insanity.

He wasn’t ready to be a father. He could barely manage himself. What was he thinking?

Just looking at facts, if he didn’t know that it was his own case he was judging, he wouldn’t give a child to a man like him. Even with all of his money, all the years between himself and his addiction, all the things he’d accomplished, Reed could only assume he’d blow it and Amanda Jane would be better off anywhere, but with him.

Why he thought he could do a better job than his own absent father—he’d always vowed if he ever had children they’d never know a childhood like his own. It wasn’t all horrible; he’d had Gina and Crystal, other friends, but he never had stability or comfort and he was always left with this horrible ache in his chest, this want of things that weren’t for him.

A hunger.

And he’d tried to fill it with pleasure—with sex, with drugs, with anything that would make that feeling stop.

He didn’t want any child to know that feeling, let alone his own.

He wondered what life had been like for her. If she knew enough now to want what she couldn’t have, if it gnawed at her the same way it affected him.

Gina went over to where Amanda Jane was sitting, took the girl’s hand and led her back toward the kitchen—away from him. He couldn’t blame her.

Maybe she was right to just want a check and his absence.

He closed his eyes as if that could somehow guard him against the sharp blades of that thought. It sliced into him, into every single defense he had.

Part of him wanted to escape, and still another part of him wanted to stay at the Bullhorn just a little bit longer, hoping to catch another glimpse of the woman and child that were the embodiment of a future he’d been afraid to want.

He stayed there in the corner long after he knew she wasn’t coming back to his table.