The corner of his lip twitches like he’s fighting a smile, then he nods as he saunters away.
Brent tips his hat in my direction before double-timing it after his asshole brother.
Well, shit.
I guess it’s time to go get my truck and start loading.
This pile looks almost the same size as what I unloaded.
Damn it. Me and my mouth. I really could have used the extra set of hands.
My phone dings, startling me out of my pity party to make my heart race.
TheBigO: How does it feel to walk around with my mark on your neck, showing the world that you’re mine?
Oh fuck. Why is that so hot?
RacingQueen: That I want more, so everyone knows.
TheBigO: They will when your belly swells with my baby.
Cold sweat runs down my back.
How will I make it to Vegas if I’m pregnant? Crap, I’d beduethen.
Son of a bitch. I didn’t think of that.
No way. The odds are so small, it didn’t happen.
I’ll make him wear protection next time.
Fate.
We’ll see. I doubt it.
I was dumb in high school and had unprotected sex, but nothing happened.
It won’t this time either.
Mom had a hard time conceiving. Dad told me after she died how badly she wanted us and struggled for years before she had us.
I think it was on her side, because he sure doesn’t have a problem making babies with Lori.
That makes me snort. Every time I turn around they’re having another.
But I love them all so much.
I really do want my own.
What is wrong with me? I even told Biggie that’s what I wanted.
How can he be so perfect, checking off everything on my list, and I’m the hot mess with all of the conflicting dreams?
By the last bale, I’m exhausted, my arms are heavy, and I’m ready for a nap.
Yet I still have a six hour drive home.
Misty walks easily up the ramp like a pro.
