Chapter Two

HAD SHE LOST her damn mind?

First, she'd gone out alone, which went against her family's wishes. Second, she'd felt like someone was watching her. Third, she'd refused to call for help when some uncaring idiot knocked her down. And fourth, a neighbor had come to her rescue and she'd accused him of stalking her. She'd even called 9-1-1 and announced what she was doing! Could she have been anymore stupid? She might as well have had a stamp across her forehead that read: Easy Kill. Effort not required.

Dropping her bag to the floor, she leaned against the door and placed a hand over her racing heart, silently commanding it to slow down. She didn't have anything to fear now. She was safe inside her apartment. That man means you no harm, a voice inside her head tried to reassure her, but another voice told her he couldn't be trusted.

It didn't matter if the man meant her harm or not. She'd made a complete fool out of herself. He'd likely never want to see her again. Hell, he'd probably avoid her like the plague. And that was just fine with her! She didn't do men or relationships. Not only could they not be trusted, but men didn't want a blind woman they thought they had to take care of. She didn't want or need a man to take care of her. So why did she feel such intense longing and jealousy when her sister gushed about her boyfriend or when she heard their mushy interactions?

Because you want to fall in love, get married, and have a family.

She laughed bitterly at how ridiculous that sounded in her head. "Not going to happen, Olivia," she reminded herself and picked up her bag, carrying it into the kitchen.

Olivia knew the apartment as if she were actually capable of seeing her surroundings. With Sadie's help, over the last two years, they'd organized the apartment to suit her handicap. Everything had a place so that she knew where to find anything she needed and could live as independently as possible. She did not like to rely on anyone, but Sadie, and her annoying and overprotective brothers, Hunter and Ethan, were exceptions.

Sometimes, however, she felt guilty for needing them, especially Sadie.

Her sister was crazy in love with her boyfriend, Jake. What if they decided they wanted to get married? It was understandable that a newlywed couple would want to live alone, just the two of them, to spend time together and to make love without interruptions.

Olivia felt a sudden pang of loneliness and sighed softly.

Her mind drifted to her new neighbor as she placed the bag of groceries on the bar for Sadie to sort when she got home and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water from the door.

Wyatt Andrews.

He sounded like a cowboy, but whether he was or not made no difference to her. She couldn't see, but she could smell and she could feel. And Lord, he'd smelled so good; a perfect combination of sandalwood and leather. He'd felt even better. Beneath his shirt, he'd felt solid and strong. She wished she could have explored his face with her fingertips to feel how they contrasted with his muscular physique.

What was she saying?

With a frustrated groan, she left the kitchen and went into the living room, plopping down onto the couch. Before she could so much as unscrew the cap on her water, she heard a key turning in each lock, and seconds later, the door opened and closed.

"Liv, I'm home!" Sadie called out much too cheerily. "And I've got something exciting to tell you! Oh my god. You're not going to—what is this? Groceries? You went out by yourself again? Liv, I've asked you I don't know how many times to wait until I get home from work and yet you still insist on doing whatever you please. You know I worry about you."

Olivia sank low on the couch, trying to shrink into herself. She knew her sister worried about her, and with good reason. Look what happened earlier, she mentally chastised herself. Had Wyatt not come along, Sadie could've stumbled upon her and freaked out. That would've been bad for both of them. But at the same time, she wanted to be able to go out on her own, even though she knew it was dangerous. Being blind made her an easy target.

"I know, Sadie," she conceded. "I'm sorry."

Her sister's attention was elsewhere. "Why is the bag ripped? Did something happen?"

Olivia winced. "Didn't you say you had something exciting to tell me?"

"Oh, no you don't, Olivia Grace Sinclair!"

Uh oh. The use of her full name meant trouble.

"It's not a big deal," she lied. "Some guy bumped into me and I dropped the bag. Our new neighbor just happened to come along and picked up my things for me."

"New neighbor?" Sadie asked, her voice much closer. "As in Wyatt Andrews?"

She turned toward the sound of her sister's voice. "Um, you know Wyatt?"

Is he single? She wanted to ask, but mentally smacked some sense into herself. She did not do men or relationships. Especially men she accused of stalking her!

"I don't know him personally," she admitted, "but he's a friend of Jake's. The man is drop dead gorgeous, but according to Jake, he's quite the womanizer. But if I were single and not looking for commitment, I'd ride that man all the way into tomorrow."

Olivia's heart sank. Womanizer. It couldn't be.

"I bet that boy is hung like a horse."

"Sadie!" Olivia exclaimed, horrified by the direction of her sister's thoughts.

"What? I'm serious. Being a hot stud alone wouldn't get him that many women. He's got to be seriously hung to have a new girlfriend every week."

She clamped her hands over her ears, scowling. We are not talking about Wyatt's penis. We are noooooot talking about Wyatt's penis.

"Can we please talk about something else?" Olivia begged before her mind started wondering about the size and length of—she abruptly pushed the thought from her mind. "You know, like the exciting something you mentioned when you came through the door."

Sadie squealed loudly, causing Olivia to jump, startled. The next thing she knew, her sister dropped onto the couch next to her and latched onto her arm as she vibrated excitedly. "I asked Jake to come over for dinner tonight—I hope that's okay—and while we were talking, he said there was something important he wanted to ask me tonight." She paused for dramatic effect then squealed again. "I think Jake is going to ask me to marry him!"

Olivia gasped. "What?" And her heart sank again. All at once she felt overwhelmed by dread and guilt. She should be ecstatic for her sister, but all she could think about was what would happen to her. Would she have to move back in with her father? No! She refused. But she couldn't—no, she wouldn't—live with Hunter or Ethan.

"That's great, Sadie," she said, forcing a smile and squeezing her hand.

"What's wrong, Liv?"

In that very moment, Olivia wished she were an actress, and a damn good one. Then she could pretend she was genuinely happy for Sadie. And then maybe she wouldn't feel like the worst sister in the world. Fat chance even if she had the acting skills of an A-lister.

"Nothing." She was on a roll with all the lying today. "I'm just tired and cranky. Maybe I should go take a nap." Grabbing onto Sadie's shoulder, she pushed to her feet and tried not to wince. Her sister didn't need to know she'd taken a hard fall that would soon, if not already, result in a tender bruise. "I'll stay in my room while Jake's here."

"Liv, you don't have to do that," Sadie predictably protested.

Yes, she did. If Jake truly meant to propose tonight, she definitely didn't care to hear it. She'd rather gouge her eyes out. She didn't need them, anyway! They were useless.

"Bring me a plate after you cook dinner," she said and started toward her bedroom.


"Thanks, sis! You're the best!"

She slipped inside her bedroom before Sadie could say another word and closed the door. With a long exhale, she crossed over to her bed, sat down, and placed her bottle of water on the nightstand. As she stretched out on the mattress, intent on that nap she'd mentioned, her mind began to wander back to her neighbor and that specific part of his anatomy.

Cursing where her thoughts were headed and her sister for bringing it to the forefront of her mind, she yanked her pillow over her head and muffled a quiet scream of frustration.

It was going to be a very long night.

FOR THE LIFE of him, Wyatt couldn't stop thinking about Olivia. The previous events just kept playing through his mind like a movie reel. He'd witnessed the entire thing from a distance. Some guy had practically shoved her down in his hurry to get wherever he'd been going. At first, Wyatt hadn't realized she was blind. As he'd approached to help her and noticed her frantically pawing the ground, helplessly trying to find her groceries, it'd dawned on him she couldn't see.

In an instant, he'd wanted to help her, but in trying to do so, she'd accused him of stalking her. Wyatt would say he was a lot of things, but a stalker wasn't one of them. For the most part, he felt like he was a decent guy. His parents had raised him right.

Olivia's feeling that someone had been watching her really bothered him. Why? She wasn't his responsibility. She wasn't his girlfriend, or even his friend. Why did he feel this need to protect her? It wasn't like he had any interest in getting into her panties. She was pretty and all, but he liked easy sex without the complication of romance and commitment. Besides, she belonged to Jake. Didn't she?

While he rummaged through his refrigerator, he searched through his memory, trying to recall if Jake had ever mentioned his girlfriend's name. It seemed highly possible, but he couldn't conjure up a memory to aid in his quest to find out. Chances were, Wyatt had been so distracted by a member of the opposite sex that he hadn't paid attention. Still, it didn't seem likely that Jake would go after a woman with that kind of affliction. Or any kind, for that matter.

She had to have a roommate. It made the most sense to him. Olivia needed someone there to look after her and that someone had to be Jake's girlfriend. Feeling confident he had it right, he smiled in satisfaction, but then quickly wiped that smile off his face. No!

A knock at the door thankfully distracted him from his thoughts.

Closing the refrigerator, he sauntered toward the door. He hadn't been expecting company, but he welcomed it. Another smile spread across his face when he opened the door to find his twin sister, Emelia, standing across from him holding a box of pizza and a six-pack of beer.

"Pizza—" she lifted the box of pizza with one hand, then the beer with the other "—and beer to celebrate your new crib." She smiled wide. "You busy?" She peered around his shoulder, evidently trying to spot any potential women that might be occupying his time. His sister knew his habits better than anyone and wanted to make sure he didn't have a new flavor of the week for her to compete with.

Of course they could never compete with his twin sister. Emelia was his best friend and more important than any lay, good or bad. Family always came first.

"No, I'm not busy," he said, chuckling softly as he leaned in and brushed a kiss against her cheek. "I'm glad you came, Em. Come in."

As he ushered her inside, he couldn't help but steal a glance at the door across from his before he followed after her. But before he could allow Olivia to plant herself like a weed inside his mind, he focused on Emelia's hair, which had been fashioned into a long French braid. And it was purple. Every week or so, she dyed her hair a different color. Last week it'd been hot pink. The deep shade of purple looked better. The hot pink had been quite an eyesore.

"Your hair is purple this week," he commented as he playfully tugged at her braid.

"Yes, it is." She laughed and placed the pizza and beer on the kitchen table. "Do you like it?"

Wyatt waited for her to face him before he gave his opinion with a genuine smile. "I do. It goes great with your wardrobe."

Her wardrobe in question consisted of a lot of black leather and combat boots. Not to mention silver jewelry, studs, and chains. Piercings and tattoos were all she needed to complete her ensemble, but she refused to get either. She'd once vowed never to mark her body. Wyatt had never taken her seriously before, but he did now.

She beamed at him. "Right? It's my favorite color so far. I think I might keep it." Turning back to the pizza and beer, she pulled out a cold bottle of Bud and handed it to him. "I meant to stop and grab an action flick for us to watch, but my mind's been a little preoccupied."

"Everything alright?" he asked, unable to stop the immediate concern.

Her sudden smile caused his concern to ebb a little, but he could sense something. Reservation, maybe? He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Everything's fine," she promised, still smiling as she opened the pizza box.

"Large, hand tossed, double pepperoni, four cheese pizza with alfredo sauce and extra cheese," he said, recognizing the pizza the moment he saw it. "Our favorite."

"As if I would get anything else." She laughed and grabbed the six-pack of beer, carrying it to the refrigerator. After she placed them inside to keep them cold, she pulled out a bottle of water.

His eyebrow arched slowly. "You're not having a beer?"

She hesitated, gnawing on her lower lip as she closed the refrigerator. "I have to drive home."

"Yeah, if you had to leave, but you don't," he countered. "You can crash on the couch."

"Right." After she exchanged the water for a beer, she grabbed a couple paper plates he had sitting on the counter and approached the pizza. "You don't have any tarts coming over later, do you?"


As she loaded her plate with two big slices of pizza, Wyatt couldn't help but scrutinize her. She usually told him everything. Why, all of a sudden, did he feel like she was hiding something from him? And why would she? As much as he wanted to badger her, he chose not to. She would confide in him eventually. Well, he hoped so, anyway.

All through dinner and an action movie they'd both agreed on, Wyatt watched her and waited. Not once had she touched her beer, which sent up a huge red flag. Beer wasn't her preferred alcoholic beverage, but she still enjoyed one every now and then.

He'd already had four and felt fuzzy warmth swirling inside him. His bladder also felt full to capacity, like it might explode if he didn't go relieve himself, but he couldn't stop staring at her, waiting and wondering. He could only think of one reason why she wouldn't be drinking her beer and it filled him with unbridled fury. Whoever the bastard was… he'd pummel him!

"Are you pregnant?" he barked, demanding an answer.

Emelia, oblivious to his growing anger, jumped so high it was as if she'd tried to leap toward the ceiling. A hand rested over her heart as she turned to him, eyes wide with shock. He couldn't decipher whether the look in her eyes meant she was shocked he'd asked such a ridiculous thing or if it meant she couldn't believe he'd figured it out.

"You haven't touched your beer," he stated matter-of-factly, but in a calmer tone.

"No, I haven't," she whispered the admission.

"Why?" he asked. "Did some douchebag refuse to wear a condom and knock you up?"

"Wyatt, it wasn't like that," she tried to explain.

His eyes practically bulged out of his head. "So you are pregnant!"

"I don't know!" she exclaimed. "Maybe. I took a home pregnancy test and it… well, it said I was pregnant, but I wanted to go to the doctor to have it confirmed before I told anyone."

"Who is he?" Wyatt asked coolly, disregarding everything else she'd said.


"Who. Is. He," he ground out, then jumped to his feet.

Emelia sprang to hers, running for the door to block his path, but he didn't advance toward her. Instead, he disappeared into the bathroom, muttering a string of expletives.

"I'll kill him!" Wyatt vowed loud enough for her to hear as he emptied his bladder.

"No, you won't!" Emelia argued. "He did nothing wrong!"

"Sure he did," he said as he exited the bathroom, now striding toward her with determination. "He knocked up my sister."

"Well, that's a natural risk that comes with having sex." Her hands pressed against his chest as he neared her. "Wyatt, he's a good guy. He doesn't deserve to have his ass kicked by my brother for something that happened during consensual sex."

"Em, who is he?" he demanded for the third time, his jaw set and his face grim. While he wasn't smashed, he wasn't thinking clearly either. Or rather, he didn't want to listen. What he wanted was to find this guy and pound him into the ground. But Emelia wasn't relinquishing the information that he needed. He would just have to go out and ask her friends, then.

Grabbing his sister by the waist, he lifted her up, moved her away from the door, and set her back down on her feet. Emelia gaped at him. "Wyatt, you're acting ridiculous!" she shouted at him, angry as a hornet. "I'd expect this kind of behavior from Mom and Dad, but not from you!" She shoved past him and flung the door open, nearly smacking him in the face with it. "I'm going home. When you decide to stop acting like a big jerk, then you can call and apologize."


She stormed out the door and down the hallway before he even had a chance to apologize to her. With a heavy sigh, he followed her out, pulling the door closed. "Em, wait!" he called out after her, jogging down the hallway to catch up, but she got halfway down the stairs before he could even get close to her. "Emelia, please wait. I'm sorry."

He tailed her all the way outside, trying to apologize. And finally, she whipped around to face him with a scowl, her eyes shimmering with tears. Guilt sliced through him at the sight of her watery eyes. God, he was a jerk. The biggest jerk.

"If am I pregnant, Wyatt, I'm really going to need your support," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You can't support me by pulverizing the father. Okay?"

Wyatt ran a hand along his jawline, his tongue moistening his lips. "Okay," he agreed. "You're right. I'm sorry. Will you please forgive me?"

She answered him with a hug; her arms slid around his waist and her face rested against his chest. "I'm scared, Wyatt," she whispered softly.

His arms encompassed her. "It'll be okay," he said. "It'll all work out, I promise."