Brooding Rebel to Baby Daddy

playing with in half and tossed both pieces onto the ground.
Laying hands on his knees, he pressed himself to standing.
When his eyes met hers, there was no ambivalence, which was a relief. But he did not look happy to see her. He looked ready to walk. Again.
She swallowed, licked her dry lips, readying to stop him. But his gaze followed the movement. Locking onto her mouth.
She’d been sure time would have numbed any latent attraction. Instead she felt sharp. Achy. Overly bright. As if she were standing barefoot on an iceberg, while looking into the sun.
Then his gaze lifted, his liquid dark eyes staring into hers.
Time seemed to stop, and stretch and dissolve, until she was simply Sable and he was simply Rafe.
For one brief, crisp moment she imagined just leaping right in.
Rafe, she saw herself saying, I want a baby, and I want you to be the father.
Then a muscle flickered beneath his eye, and she saw past the unblinking facade to the heaviness in his eyes. Yes, there was curiosity, but only on the other side of a great gaping crevasse of trauma.
Leaping in was not an option. There was too big a distance to bridge.
Unfortunately, time was not on her side. Not only did she plan to stay in Radiance for as short a time as humanly possible, her own body was against her. For it had decided to make baby-making a challenge. Which meant she had to get building that bridge and quick.
Sable levelled Rafe with a look. “You, I’ll talk to later.”
“Excuse me?”
He’d responded! Sure, it was gruff, but that was better than not responding.
“Back there, to Bear, you said, ‘You, I’ll talk to.’ Making it clear you didn’t want to talk to me. I know a diss when I hear one.”
Rafe’s dark eyes narrowed and Sable felt her heart thunder, hoping the risk of playing things loose and familiar would pay off. Would rekindle their old rapport quicker than not.
And there. A flicker behind the wall. A gleam.
Rafe slowly moved to lean against the brick wall, folding his arms across his broad chest and staring her down. “This is how you choose to go about the first conversation we have in years. By quibbling?”
“I did say hello, back there in the café, but you must not have heard me.”
A twitch. At the corner of his eye. Good twitch? Or bad?
“Unbelievable,” he mumbled, glancing away as he rubbed a hand over his mouth. But not before she caught the quiver of a smile.
Trying to ignore the way the drop in his voice sang through her bloodstream, Sable cocked her head. “Would you like me to start again? Talk about the weather perhaps? Like normal people?”
Normal people. It was a line they’d used often. A way of coping with how the locals looked sideways at their less than typical families—her “alternative” mother and his volatile father. One of the many threads that had connected them.
She saw the moment he remembered. The tightening at the corners of his eyes. The way his fingers gripped his forearms.
But then he seemed to let it go. To decide not to care.
He’d been good at that. While she wore her heart on her sleeve, every emotion written on her face, he was better at hiding his thoughts than anyone she’d ever known.
A tactic to survive his father.
Just as making herself smaller had been her way of surviving her mother. Had. Past tense.
She lifted her chest, and her chin. Ready to show him just how big she could now be.
When he surprised her, saying, “I’d like to see you try to be normal.”
And before she even felt it coming, she coughed out a laugh. Then gave him a look that said, Really. Felt a little tingly in the belly region when he gave her a slow nod.
Riding the rapport, she wiggled her fingers, shook her head, took a deep breath, plastered a big fake smile on her face and said, “Rafe! Oh, my gosh. It’s been years. It’s so good to see you. How have you been? Great, I hope! You look...” Hot. Savage. Mouth-watering. “Well.”
Her words, full of faux cheer, seemed to bounce around the alley before dissipating in a hiss of steam as they reached his dark, still self.
Then the edge of his mouth kicked up at one side. She felt it deep inside. Attraction. History. Heat. Pulsing through her like a fresh current.
“I’ve been just...fine. Thanks.” Infinitesimal pause before the “fine”. Then he said, “You also look...well.” The pause before the “well” was longer still.
Now what? Small talk? Big talk? Hard talk? Dirty talk? The talk?
Slow down, kiddo. Bridge-building, she told herself. This here is all about building that big old bridge that is going to get you what you want most in the world.
She took a small step towards him. “Bear told you to come to the café, didn’t he? Just now.”
After a beat he nodded.
“Because I was there,” she said.
Another nod.
“And I thought he and I were friends.”
A small frown, then, “Why are you here, Sable?”
Ah, the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. One she absolutely planned to answer but not while there was so much tension in the air she felt as if she could levitate. “Look, can we go somewhere? Grab a coffee?”
No. Not a coffee. Other than The Coffee Shop, every other place in town would be filled with people who would gawp and gossip and she’d be in less of a position to talk, to really talk, than she was in this alley. And while Bear might promise to keep his lips zipped, she really didn’t know the guy at all.
Before she could press again, the rumble of an engine—big, meaty, eight-cylinder—heralded a muscle car cruising up the main street. Neither of them said a word until it was gone.
“I have to get to work,” said Rafe, lifting away from the wall, his arms unfolding, hands moving to slide thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans.
It was so reminiscent of the old Rafe, her Rafe, her