“Why?” he asks.
“Because of Bardstown. Our town. I love it.”
“Good,” he almost growls.
I frown. “Good what?”
“To know the name of the lipstick that I’m going to wipe off your lips.”
And then he does just that.
He grabs my face and leans down to kiss me. I’ve gotten a lot heavier now but I’m still a ballerina and my toes jump up so I can meet him halfway.
When he’s done, he lifts his head and I open my eyes to find him wiping my lipstick off his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why did you do that?”
His fingers flex on my face and on the small of my back. “Because I draw the line at cupcakes.”
“What line?”
“The line of what I’ll let you do for other men.”
I fist his hoodie; he’s back in my favorite outfit ever, his white hoodie and dark jeans. “What you’llletme do.”
“Yes,” he growls again. “You baked him cupcakes and that’s it. You’re not going to wear lipstick for him too.”
I stretch up my toes even more. “Roman, it’s Pete. Your friend. He’s old.”
He flexes his grip on my body again. “He has eyes, doesn’t he?”
“Is that why you’ve been a grumpy bear all day? Because I was baking him cupcakes?”
“Cookies too. Besides, you shouldn’t be working at all anyway. You’re fucking pregnant.”
Yes, I know.
And if he had his way, he wouldn’t even let me get out of bed.
I shake my head at him and Halo chooses that moment to wake up and kick. Which he feels, obviously, because he has me plastered to his body.
“See? She agrees with me,” I tell him. “She thinks Daddy’s crazy too.”
His gaze pierces me then, all dark and dangerous. “Daddy’s crazy because her mommy makes him that way.”
My breasts are all squished into his chest, heavy and achy, and my thighs clench and unclench with every breath I take. But I can’t get distracted. I have to go meet his friend.
“It’ll be fun. I promise,” I whisper up to him and with one last heated and agitated look at me, he lets me go and we go see Pete.
And itisfun.
Pete is like Santa Claus. Bushy white beard, beer belly and a loud good-natured laugh.
He’s happy to see me. He says that he’s heard a lot about me and he was dying to meet the girl who stole Reed’s Mustang and drowned it in the lake.
“Serves him right for being an asshole to such a pretty girl,” he says, laughing. “He had to work on it all summer.”
I shoot Reed a guilty look and he flips Pete the bird, which makes Pete laugh even harder.
Pete practically inhales all my cupcakes as we chat. Because he says my cupcakes taste exactly like how his wife, Mimi, used to make them before she died a few years ago.
