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say with as much legal clarity as possible. I stay out of their personal business. If she wants to become a single mother and have no interference from the sperm donor, that’s what she wants. For all I know she has millions in the bank and doesn’t need anyone’s support.”
    “Well, she doesn’t have a lot of money, and what this piece of paper says is, she has all the responsibilities of raising a child and excludes any help.”
    “And who are you? Her father? Brother?”
    “No. I’m the guy she wants to sign this thing with. The guy you so casually call the sperm donor.”
    “Well, lucky you. I don’t understand what you’re upset about. If I’d been the one she chose to sleep with, knowing there would be no consequences for my actions, I’d be thrilled.”
    The thought of Brigit sleeping with some smarmy dude like this one angered Ethan. “You’re saying you’d sign this—this, thing?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Then you’re scum.”
    “I’m sure some people think all lawyers are scum. Yet they still come to us when they want our help.”
    “Yeah. Right. Help.”
    The snick on the other end of the line told Ethan he’d received all the free time he was going to get from Mr. Whitman.
    He set his phone on the control panel and looked out over the bow. The river stretched in front of him. From his vantage point, the possibilities looked endless. If he didn’t already know, he couldn’t tell where the river would take him or for how long.
    He supposed that was how life was. But with the single life, if you entered the wrong tributary, you could always turn around and try another route. No harm. No foul.
    Once you entered fatherhood, you couldn’t go back to carefree exploration. You had to know where you were going and that all the routes were safe ones.
    Dammit, why did Brigit choose him? It’s not like there weren’t plenty of other men who’d be willing and able. Hell, the lawyer and even Keith said they would be glad to do the deed.
    He tried to put himself in her shoes, and he understood a little better. The child was bound to wonder who his or her father was. She’d at least want to explain that he was a good man and a close friend. She wouldn’t want to look at the child and see the slimy lawyer or a mini Cher.
    As Ethan rolled it around in his head some more, he realized he had been approaching it from a failed direction. He had been wondering what would happen if she changed her mind and wanted his help—or his name. But what if she didn’t? Why did that idea disappoint him too?
    He threw his paper coffee cup in the trash and jogged down the gang plank. There was only one way he was going to make up his mind without driving himself crazy. He had to see her.
    * * * *
    B rigit looked up from the big bag of kibble to see long legs and hands on lean hips. She straightened and took in the rest of Ethan Cox’s handsome face and angry scowl. Uh-oh .
    She tamped down her instant desire, and tried to sound nonchalant. “Ethan! What are you doing here?”
    He looked like he was about to answer her but turned his head and sneezed instead.
    “Bless you.”
    “Great. I’m allergic to your workplace.”
    “And I’m not crazy about boats. Is that what you wanted to tell me?”
    “No. Is there someplace we can talk—someplace that isn’t covered with animal dander?”
    At an animal shelter? “Maybe outdoors ... Want to help me feed the horses?”
    “You have horses here?”
    “A few. I just need to finish—”
    Ethan turned his head and sneezed again.
    “You know what? I’ll finish feeding the dogs later.” She put the kibble to the side and said, “Sorry guys. I’ll have to come back.” To their yips of protest she said, “I can’t let my friend get sick.”
    Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she saw Ethan smile slightly. She led him outside as quickly as possible, and hoped beyond hope that the scowl had more to do with his allergies than hinting at an answer to her