Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157672 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 788(@200wpm)___ 631(@250wpm)___ 526(@300wpm)
As if he hears me, he glances my way and jerks his chin.
One of the many macho moves he’s picked up from his new mentors.
Finally, he’s ready, and as soon as the coach pitches the ball, Wyatt steps back, knowing the pitch wasn’t the right one.
On the second, he swings hard, connecting with the ball, resulting in rambunctious screams of the boys.
He makes it to first base with no problem and I’ve pushed my limit. This baby obviously knows the excitement happening and decides to roll.
I climb over the bleacher and shriek when strong hands lift me the rest of the way.
“What are you doing?” Talon places me on the ground and directs me to the restroom.
“Wondered how long you’d hold out.”
“You are timing my urination schedule?”
“Been watching you the last ten minutes.”
It is useless to respond because the man is one hundred percent in tune with my body and this pregnancy.
“I’m seriously considering buying you a straightjacket.”
“Hard to carry you around without use of my arms.”
I curve down my attitude, because my bladder wins out, rushing inside the bathroom.
When I’m done, I notice how clean the ladies’ room is compared to the last time we were at the fields. The dingy walls are painted, the cracked vinyl vanities replaced, the tile floors bleached and shining. There are summer-scented soaps at the sinks with stacks of softer paper towels.
This has Stacy Richards written all over it.
Talon’s waiting for me with a scowl. “Told you it’s not good to wait until the last minute.”
“You tell me a lot of things.”
“Because you are stubborn and don’t take care of yourself.”
I square off with him, ready to continue these never-ending conversations. “I know my body.”
“Princess, lose the sass.”
“There is no attitude.”
He cocks an eyebrow, his stunning eyes dancing with amusement. “You really want to do this here?”
My insides stir alive, knowing how this usually ends with me in some kind of state of undress and at least one orgasm. Today, we’re not in the privacy of the house where he can manhandle me. We’re at a public ballpark surrounded by kids.
I take a big step back and wag my finger at him. “Stay there. No more hauling me around.”
“I haven’t hauled you anywhere yet.”
“You lifted me off the bleachers. Which is dangerous for you with the extra weight I’m carrying.”
“You’re underweight, and your ass should have never been on the third row. I want you on the ground.”
“I can’t see as well.”
“Then I’ll arrange for a special viewing section.”
“You’re insane! Wyatt will be mortified if you single me out.”
“He won’t give a shit.”
This is true, Wyatt thinks everything Talon does is right in the world.
The baby kicks again, my hand reflexively covering my stomach. His eyes drop and, in a flash, he’s in my space, rubbing my rounded belly. “He’s active today?”
“More than usual. It’s probably all the excitement.”
“You need to rest before this afternoon.”
I roll my eyes. “We’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not like anyone will let me lift a finger.”
“As it should be.”
“You do realize women have been having babies forever and maintained an active lifestyle. I think I can handle decorating for a six-year-old’s birthday party.”
“Those women weren’t having my baby. And they may not have had fifteen other people willing to decorate. You made the cake, that’s enough.”
“He’s my nephew; he deserved his favorite cake.”
“I didn’t bitch about it.”
“No, you pouted.”
He scowls, pressing on my stomach. “Don’t listen to that shit. Men don’t pout.”
“Are you talking to me or the baby?”
“Right now, the baby. When we get home, I’ll explain to you in detail how—”
A whistle cuts through the air and Ford motions to the dugout.
“We’re missing the game because you’re being an overprotective idiot.”
“You have to pee, don’t wait.”
“Do you have to be sooooooo observant?”
He ignores me, steering me past the bleachers to a waiting chair with a bird’s eye view of the field. April, Bex, Rowan, Harley, and Jewls are all seated in similar outdoor camping chairs, gabbing away.
“You didn’t.”
“Bleachers are dangerous. You have your own section.” He kisses me quick but hard before jogging back to the team.
He receives attention from every woman in the vicinity and I can’t blame them.
My husband is gorgeous.
Another boy hits a line drive, giving Wyatt the opportunity to race to home plate. We all go wild, Bex screaming the loudest.
I dance in a circle, cheering until a soft hand clutches my arm.
“Maybe you should sit.” April’s gaze travels sideways.
I grumble, easing into the chair. “Not sure how to handle four more months of this.”
“Ditto, sister,” Rowan commiserates, her husband being equally as maddening.
“Maybe you’ll go early,” Harley suggests with a sly smile.
Mom comes running up, completely frazzled. “Did I miss anything?”
“Wyatt’s on fire, the team is kicking ass, and these six-year-olds are being groomed for the Cy Young award.” Jewls adjusts her sunglasses. “Otherwise, it’s a glorious summer morning at the ballpark.”