Building Dreams. Ginna Gray
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far more like his Uncle Reilly than his father. Ryan’s twin was unfailingly, at times maddeningly, good-natured and jovial, and on those rare occasions when he did lose his temper his anger never lasted long.
Finally Mike’s mouth twitched in a reluctant, somewhat abashed smile. “Yeah. I guess.”
By the time they headed out to do their Saturday grocery shopping and errands, the camaraderie between father and son was fully restored. Ryan’s mood was buoyant…until, a mile or so from the apartment, he spotted Tess.
Her car was sitting by the side of the road with a flat tire, and she was bending over the open trunk. He couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking that bright hair or that battered little car.
Ryan speeded up, hoping that Mike wouldn’t notice her. That hope was dashed almost instantly.
“Look! There’s Tess!” he shouted. “And she has a flat!” He looked at his father, his face at first eager, then crestfallen. “Aren’t you gonna stop?”
Ryan opened his mouth to tell him that these days liberated women changed their own flat tires, but before he could, Tess straightened up and turned around with the jack in her hands.
Ryan’s head whipped around as he zoomed past her. “What the—?” His eyes bulged and his jaw dropped.
He snapped his mouth shut then opened it again to cut loose with a stream of colorful curse words that had Mike gaping, stomped on the brake and brought the Cherokee to a screeching halt on the shoulder of the road.
He stabbed his son with an irate glare. “She’s pregnant! Why the hell didn’t you tell me she was pregnant!”
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