She pulls several big pieces of pizza out of the container and slides them onto a pan. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
“It can be. I’ve got to watch my numbers,” I admit, studying her face and trying to gauge her reaction.
She’s quiet, and I realize that she’s going to learn about this eventually. After all, if I plan to have a big family with her, she’ll need to know about my health.
“We can talk about it,” I tell her.
She nods and thinks for a long moment. “How does, I mean, I’ve heard about it, but like, what is it?”
“Your body converts the food you eat to energy by using insulin. My pancreas, which is the organ that makes insulin, stopped doing its job. I have a pump under my skin that gives me insulin, but it’s not perfect or an exact science. There are a lot of days that are just…rough.”
“That sucks, I’m sorry,” she murmurs, genuine sympathy in her expression.
I shrug. It’s too much information, but well, there’s a genetic risk. Since we’re going to have babies together, she’ll need to understand these things. “There are two main types. Type 1 diabetics have stopped producing any insulin. Type 2 diabetics can still produce some insulin. There are other kinds, but they tend to be rare.”
She slides the leftover pizza into the oven and faces me. “How did you find out you had it?”
“I joined the military with my brother, Ford. I’d been feeling weird for a few weeks before that. I tried to push through, and then I got violently ill. Most doctors probably would have brushed it off as the flu or some type of food poisoning, but I was lucky. A medic understood that the scent of my fruity breath meant that my blood sugar was dangerously high. He saved my life.”
“I’m glad he was there for you,” she says, and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Her touch soothes me and grounds me. “Unfortunately, that was the end of my career. It’s hard to get approval to stay in the military for certain medical conditions.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Don’t be. My life turned out pretty good. I have a career I enjoy and a beautiful cabin.”
I cut myself off before I can tell her that I also have a beautiful future wife who’s standing right here beside me.
The timer on the oven dings, signaling that the pizza has reheated.
She bends over to grab it, and when she straightens, she catches me staring. She tries to tug the shirt she’s wearing lower to cover her gorgeous ass.
“Should have chosen a longer one,” she murmurs.
I wrap my fingers around her wrist. “It’s perfect.”
Chapter 7
Holly
“Should have chosen a longer one,” I mutter as I try desperately to tug it down.
Hunter wraps his fingers around my wrist, his touch branding me and comforting me at the same time. “It’s perfect.”
“It’s not the perfect size,” I say, and instantly regret letting the words leave my mouth. I don’t want to let him see my biggest insecurity.
“I disagree entirely.”
“You wouldn’t think that if you were in show business.”
To my surprise, he steps closer. He takes my face in his hands and he stares intently into my eyes. “Your body is absolutely perfect. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”
Then, before I even know what’s happening, his lips are connecting with mine. His kiss is gentle and exploratory. He’s holding me so gently, like I’m precious to him.
The moment he licks his way into my mouth, my hands go to his flannel shirt. I grab handfuls of the material and yank him close, plastering my body against his. I’ve never felt chemistry like this with someone. My body is zinging all over.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much passion, to feel this alive. It’s all because of the mountain man whose arms I’m in.
