“I’m coming to the next doctor’s appointment,” he said, watching her wipe the back of her wrist across her mouth and then continue eating the pizza. “And any other appointments. I don’t want to find out the sex. We’ll do a prenatal class too. I’ll be in the delivery room.”
She paused mid-bite. “You’re a bossy fucker. Do I get a say inanyof this?”
“Get used to it, woman.” He reached for his beer bottle and drained it. Fuck, he needed something stronger. “I ain’t going anywhere.”
Chapter 4
Three days later, Brock found himself maneuvering his big truck down the gravel driveway to Krista’s house. She wasn’t expecting him. They’d agreed to meet at the ultrasound place, but he was curious to see where she lived and wanted to show her that he was all in for this baby thing. Even if she didn’t want him, he wanted her to know that this kid was going to be raised with a father and not just a weekend dad.
No.
He’d be there for everything. Birth to graduation, his kid would have a dad.
Slamming his truck door, he took in the property. It was a nice piece of land, with what looked like an old barn, a small field for some goats, horses or cows at one point, but the grass had taken over and the livestock was long gone. A chicken coop stood empty and quiet off near a small plot of raised beds, and what looked to be an old pigpen with a trough and lean-to was now filled with dandelions and weeds. The land had potential, but clearly the landlords were too uncaring or perhaps too old to fulfill that potential any longer, and it was falling into disrepair.
Oh, what he would do with a piece of land like this.
Her “front” door was around back and down a couple of steps. It didn’t look like she had much head room, but then again, the woman was lucky if she was five-foot-five. He ducked under the staircase leading up to the balcony aboveand rapped on her door.
No answer.
He knocked again, this time harder, longer and louder.
Still no answer.
Fuck.
Panic flooded him as his big palm engulfed the knob and he gave it a quick turn. If it wasn’t open, he’d kick the fucker down if he had to. Her car was out front; she was home. What the fuck was going on?
But the door was open, and he let himself inside, having to duck again to get in under the doorjamb. He was about to call out for her when the sound of puking caused him to pause.
The place was small and dated but clean and cozy. He saw the door to the bathroom leading off the hallway and made his way toward it.
“Krista?” he asked softly, seeing her kneeling on the floor, hunched over the toilet, one hand bunching her hair at the nape of her neck while the other one gripped the bowl tight enough to make her knuckles white.
He was about to say something when she pitched forward and heaved again. Before he knew it, he was inside the bathroom and pushing her hand away from her hair, holding it off her face for her as both her hands clutched the bowl. He located a black hair elastic on the sink counter and quickly tied her hair up, then his hand fell to her back, where he did the only thing he could think of. He began to gently rub. His big fingers traced her delicate spine, feeling every ridge and bump, every muscle tighten as she heaved up more into the bowl.
She groaned and slumped forward, resting her forehead on the back of her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to offer you a ride to the ultrasound. Figured we could go and grab lunch after and discuss this baby-raising thing a little more. Set some parenting parameters.”
She twisted a bit and gave him the side-eye, only lifting her head slightly from her hand. “Parameters?”
He lifted one shoulder. “Or whatever.”
Suddenly, a little tabby wandered into the bathroom, brushing affectionately against his leg before stepping into the litter box beside the toilet. It scratched a few times in the sand, then began to do its business.
“You have a cat?” he asked, weirded out by the intense eye contact the cat was making with him as it squatted.
“Penelope.”
Lifting his hand from her back for a moment, he ran his fingers through his short, bristly hair. “Jesus, woman, don’t you know pregnant women aren’t supposed to change cat litter?”
She lifted her head up and, using her hands on the bowl, pushed herself up onto her knees. “How do you know that?”
“I’ve been reading.”
“Reading what?”
