Ben is your son, and no man should ever walk away from his child. I like your father, respect him, but I can’t back him on this. You’re my friend, and whatever you need, I got you.”
Love and gratitude for this man, who was as close to him as his brother, Asher, filled Ross, soothing the jagged edges left behind by the argument with his father.
“I appreciate it, Billy,” he said, then exhaled roughly. “I’m going to need all the moral support I can get. Especially when this comes out. Because I refuse to hide Ben or Charlotte.”
“You mean you’re going to need all the support because of Rusty.”
“Yes,” Ross murmured. “Why does it feel like I’m about to go to war with my father?”
“He’ll calm down,” Billy assured him, clapping a hand to his shoulder. “Right now he’s upset, but once he calms down, he’ll see reason.”
Ross chuckled sadly. “You don’t know Rusty Edmond at all, do you?”
Because he did. Rusty didn’t forgive or forget. And Ross had openly defied him, when in the past all he’d had was his son’s obedience.
No, this wouldn’t blow over. Not when neither of them were ready to back down.
But this was one battle Ross couldn’t afford to lose.
Seven
This time as Ross approached the small house in the older but cozy section of Royal, he was expected. He’d called Charlotte as soon as he’d hit the city limits last evening to let her know he was back in town. And asked if he could drop by the following morning to see Ben.
Over the three days that he’d been in Dallas, he’d called and talked to her, and had even video-chatted with Ben over his phone. Not that a two-year-old could chat. But he had been able to coax a hi out of him. Those moments had carried him through the long, interminable three days. And one day, hopefully sooner rather than later, his son would smile when he saw Ross’s face and heard his voice. Would run to Ross when he saw him.
God, he lived for that day.
Butterflies. He’d never experienced butterflies in his stomach before. The closest had been the tightening and twisting of his gut when he’d known he would be with Charlotte. But that had been about anticipation, desire. Not nerves. No, these were honest-to-God nerves. And not over a woman, but for a boy. A toddler who had the power to squeeze his heart so hard that the ache throbbed in his chest.
Climbing the shallow steps to the front door, he dragged in a breath, then knocked. Within seconds, the door opened as if the person on the other side had just been waiting on him.
Charlotte stood in the entryway, her dark hair hanging in a long braid over her shoulder. A long-sleeved, emerald dress clung to her full breasts before the soft material fell to the floor. She looked casual, even comfortable. But there was nothing comfortable about how his cock thumped against his zipper, stretching, hardening. Dammit. The woman could make a nun’s habit sexy as fuck.
“Hi, Ross,” she greeted, stepping back, granting him room to enter. “Come on in.”
“Thanks.” Instead of studying the elegant slant of her cheekbone or the sensual curve of her mouth or—hell—the lush rise of her breasts, he surveyed her home. As if it were his first time there. As if he hadn’t memorized every square footage of the place that he’d seen. Anything was better than staring at her like a starved animal.
Hell, he shouldn’t find her sexy. Shouldn’t want her. Shouldn’t fucking feel around her.
He accepted she hadn’t lied to him or kept his son away from him out of spite or malice, but he still didn’t trust her. Didn’t trust her not to disappear—she’d done it once before. He also didn’t trust her not to renege on allowing him access to Ben.
But while he might be angry—an understatement—with his father, Rusty Edmond had still raised him. And one thing he’d taught Ross was to understand what your opponent needed and find a way to supply it. It might seem inherently wrong that he viewed Charlotte as his adversary, but right now he wanted her and Ben to live with him, and she was opposed to the idea. So he’d found her weakness and was prepared to lean on it until she surrendered. She’d shown him that he wasn’t enough for her to stick around for. Maybe his incentive would be.
Fighting fair? No. Was he being his father’s son at