“Really? ’Cause you looked horrified.”

I laughed softly. “It’s a statistical truth that women are better at nonverbal cues and reading people than men. Maybe you should leave that stuff up to me from now on.”

He dropped his gaze again. “Horrified is pretty hard to mistake.”

“I’ve been wondering if it was something else,” I said, ignoring him. Horrified, my ass. “Well, a lot of something elses but one in particular.”

“And what would that be?”

“I’d forgotten you.” When he didn’t say anything, I explained. “You’d predicted months earlier that I would forget you when I learned my celestial name, and you were right.”

“I knew you would. It was no surprise.”

“But I didn’t forget you like you made it sound like I would forget you. Like I would grow out of you. Like I would get over you and just not love you anymore and move on.”

“True. But in a way you did. You almost grew out of yourself.”

“That was a lot of power to give to a down-to-earth girl from New Mexico whose only aspirations included trips to coffee plantations around the world and eating orange Popsicles without getting juice on her chin. When I find out whose idea it was…”

A gentle laugh softened the sharp edges of his tightly wound emotions.

“But the thought of not loving you anymore? Reyes, I can’t breathe when you aren’t near me. I can’t think straight.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He smoothed his thumb over my belly button, causing another tingling sensation between my legs. “And I’m grateful, but you’ve had a lot on your mind as well.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Ah.” He nodded in understanding. “So I have to tell you all my secrets, but you won’t share yours?”

A snort escaped me before I could stop it. “Reyes Alexander Farrow, I know damned good and well you have not, and will not ever, tell me all your secrets.”

His gaze suddenly bored into mine. “I might surprise you someday.”

“Yeah?”

“But you have to go first.”

He was right, to a degree. We had to communicate. Wasn’t that what the experts said? Communication was key?

I decided to start with the one that hurt the most at that moment in time. I closed my eyes like a coward and said into the darkness, “You have another child.”

“Do I?” he asked, his voice fused with humor. “Thanks for letting me know.”

I looked at him again, mouth slightly agape. “How is this funny?”

“No idea. But trust me, it is.”

“Reyes, you have a five-year-old son in Texas.”

He cinched his brows together and then released them when understanding dawned. “Right. Damien. I’d forgotten I fathered him. And while I was in prison, no less.”

“So, that’s your excuse? You couldn’t possibly father a child while you were in prison?” When he only stared, fighting a grin, I said, “Ha! I already know how it happened, Mr. Man.”

His brows shot up, completely intrigued.

“You impregnated a female corrections officer.”

“Ah.” He nodded, thinking back. “Oh, right, well, thank goodness it wasn’t a male corrections officer. Talk about a hard labor.”

He was laughing at this. Scoffing. Dismissing it willy-nilly. I lay there appalled and flabbergasted and stunned. Speechless. “How can you take this so lightly?” Well, not entirely speechless.

He slid his hand around my waist until his fingertips rested on my spine. “Because you, Mrs. Davidson, are hilarious.”

He was taking this really well. Maybe a little too well. “Are you insinuating that Damien Clay is not your son?”

“Please tell me you didn’t waste valuable time and resources investigating this when all you had to do was ask me.”

“I most certainly did not. Cookie did. I’ll have a talk with her tomorrow. So, fess up. Yay or nay on the paternity test?”

“Dutch, if I ever have another child, I promise, you’ll be the first to know. Probably because you’ll be in the throes of labor, screaming. Damien Clay is your boyfriend’s son. He never married the mother.”

I blinked in surprise. “My boyfriend? My new one? You know about Fabio?”

He didn’t bother answering. Apparently it was beneath him to comment on Cookie’s sofa.

Okay. My boyfriend’s son. Great. “Well, it’s awfully nice of you to make his child support payments for him. It’s very avant-garde. Very nuclear family. In a postapocalyptic way.”

“It was part of the deal,” he said with a shrug. “I wanted extra eyes I could trust on our daughter, and he was extra eyes I could trust.”

I snapped to attention and rose up on my elbows again. “What does Beep have to do with any of this?”

“I hired your boyfriend. Actually, all three of them.” When I gaped in confusion, he added, “Your biker friends, remember? They keep an eye on the Loehrs and, in turn, Elwyn. Only I didn’t want a paper trail. They are, after all, wanted fugitives.”

“Donovan?” I asked, stunned. “Of course. You hired Donovan and the guys to watch over Beep.”

They were perfect. And he was right. They were wanted for a bank robbery thing. It didn’t matter that they were blackmailed into doing it. They were good guys, and when it came to hiring strong arms to protect Beep and the Loehrs, Reyes had brought them in.

“So,” he continued, “part of the deal was that they use only cash and the credit cards I send them and that I make his child support payments so there will be no trace of his whereabouts online.”

I was still gaping at him, but this time in absolute awe, even more in awe of him than when he’d first walked into the Firelight Grill, the diner in New York. “That’s amazing, Reyes. I had no idea you did all that for them. For Beep.”

His full mouth thinned. “Sometimes your lack of faith in me astounds.”

“Not lack of faith.” I shook my head, adamant. “Never lack of faith. I just tend to underestimate that brain of yours.” I tapped his temple and then brushed a lock of hair back and tucked it behind his ear. He totally needed a trim. “I keep forgetting your IQ is higher than my bank balance.”