May Contain Wine Read online Lani Lynn Vale (SWAT Generation 2.0 #5)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: SWAT Generation 2.0 Series by Lani Lynn Vale
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 70458 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
<<<<5161697071>71
Advertisement


“See you around noon,” he murmured, dropping a soft kiss onto my lips. “Take care of my baby.”

With that, he was gone, leaving me with two rambunctious puppies.

The sound of his truck starting up outside had a flutter going through my heart.

“Okay, you two,” I said as I looked at my two rescues. “Who wants to help me fold baby clothes?”

***

Louis

“Hey, Louis!”

I turned at the sound of my name being called by my chief.

“Yeah?” I asked.

The Chief grinned his fucking ass off as he gestured to an old man in overalls. He was wearing overalls only, no undershirt, and was holding a big ass box the size of which was causing him to waver on his feet.

I recognized him instantly. And behind him was my girl.

But she was holding back, looking at the man then at me as if she knew something funny that I didn’t.

I walked up to the old farmer and offered my hand. “Sir, how are you?”

I also didn’t remember his name for shit.

Which probably made me a bad person, because the man had come up to the police station twice over the last couple of months to say thank you for all of the work that I’d done. He’d even talked to Luke and told him how ‘above and beyond’ I’d gone for him.

Whatever. I wasn’t really good with names.

“Officer Spurlock.” The old man shook my hand, the box teetering.

Calloway was there to steady the box, taking it from his hands.

I immediately let go of the old man’s hand and took the box from Calloway.

The box teetered, causing my brows to rise.

“How can I help you?” I asked curiously, winking at Calloway when she saw her dad and headed his way.

“I wanted to bring you something,” he said as he gestured toward the closest desk. “It okay if we use that?”

I looked at the desk, which happened to be a young officer’s and nodded. “Sure.”

I placed the box on top of it, and the old man started to open the lid.

“I just wanted to bring you some sausage from the pigs that you saved,” he said.

I blinked.

“Um, what?” I asked, confused.

“The pigs that you saved. I slaughtered them and brought you some sausage,” he said.

There was a moment of silence as the room around me went quiet.

Then there were snickers all around. The main ones coming from Sammy who was busy laughing his ass off as quietly as he could in the corner of the room.

I blinked, choking a bit on the words. “Um, thank you. I… that’s very nice of you.”

Eight months ago, I’d gone into a burning building thinking that there were crying kids inside. Instead what I’d found were fifteen squealing piglets.

Instead of leaving them to die, I’d saved them from the fire by picking them up and carrying them out in a trash can.

Which was quite funny seeing as they were now slaughtered and in bags on a desk in front of me.

“I made you some bacon. Some sausage. Some ribs, and some jerky,” he said matter-of-factly. “I just wanted you to know how much that meant to me. If you hadn’t saved those, my family wouldn’t be able to eat this winter.”

I immediately felt bad for him.

“Sir,” I said. “You don’t have to give me these.”

He gave me a stern look. “I do.”

I nearly started laughing.

Did start laughing after he left.

“He gave me a box of sausage,” I said with as straight of a face as I could manage. “All those piglets that I saved…”

The room itself seemed to burst then, laughter filling the bullpen as we all processed what had just happened.

I was laughing so hard, that at first, I didn’t realize that Calloway was no longer laughing.

She was staring at me with horror on her face.

That was when I saw the large wet spot on her dress.

Her water had broken.

“But what am I supposed to do with all of my sausage and bacon while you have a baby?” I teased.

She slapped me on the forearm. “Fuck the bacon.”

Twelve long, grueling hours later, I was holding a very angry, very tiny baby boy.

We named him Bennett Foster Spurlock.

Advertisement

<<<<5161697071>71

Advertisement