Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 42549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 213(@200wpm)___ 170(@250wpm)___ 142(@300wpm)
“You heard what I said.”
“You fucking asshole,” she sneered, shaking her head slowly. “I didn’t cheat on you, Horse. Although maybe I should, since you obviously don’t trust me for shit. Of course, attracting another guy might be a little difficult, seeing as I’m currently carrying your child.”
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. Marie nodded slowly, a nasty smile twisting her mouth. “Yeah, you heard me right. I’m the pregnant one and you’re the asshole. So, far as I know, neither of us is a cheater, although I find it a little unnerving that that’s the first place your mind went. It’s been a weird day, Horse. I took the test about half an hour before you got home—after puking my guts out for the last ten hours. It’s a bit of a mind fuck, and I was trying to figure out the best way to tell you, since we’d agreed that we would wait a couple more years. Surprise, Horse. You’re gonna be a daddy.”
Then she flipped me off and I had to concede the point.
I was a total asshole.
“You’re seriously pregnant?” I asked slowly, sitting back on my heels. The anger had disappeared, but the adrenaline still swirled around me, making it impossible to think.
“Yes,” Marie said, rinsing out her sponge as she started working down Ariel’s side carefully. “Can you help me get him up? We have to get his back, and I’m worried he’ll grind the oils in if he keeps doing this.”
I stared at her blankly. “We need to talk.”
Marie rolled her eyes.
“No shit. I think I mentioned something about that, remember?”
I winced, thinking about what I’d said to her.
“I’m sorry.”
“And I’m cleaning a dog covered in skunk oils that have another two or three minutes before they set in,” she replied pointedly. “You know, your dog? Stop just sitting there and help clean Ariel.”
“He’s your dog, too,” I protested, then shut my eyes, wondering what the hell was wrong with me. I couldn’t think. There was a baby inside Marie. My baby. Holy fuck, there was gonna be a baby coming out of her and it would be my kid.
Mine.
I pictured her holding a little pink infant, nursing it in the living room while I stood over them protectively. The thought of it was enough to cut through the fog, and I had a sudden, magnificent realization.
“Your tits are gonna get huge,” I blurted out.
Marie sat back, blinking at me.
“You accuse me of cheating while we’re scrubbing skunk off the dog, I tell you you’re going to be a father, and all you can think about are my tits?”
I shook my head at her slowly. “Marie, babe . . . you know I think about your tits all the time.”
Ariel snorted and the stench rose thick between us. Marie shook her head slowly, and for long seconds I thought I was screwed. Then I caught the first hint of a smile. A real smile.
“You’re hopeless,” she said quietly.
“I know what I like,” I countered, grinning back at her. “You’re gorgeous, you know—it fucks with my head, and I’m kind of a moron to begin with. How far along are you?”
“I think about ten weeks, although I’m not totally sure. I had my last two periods, but they were really light. Spotting, more than anything. That threw me off.”
“This is amazing,” I said, feeling my stupid smile getting bigger. My baby. I wondered if the kid would be a boy or girl. Fuck, did it matter? “Christ, I love you.”
Leaning forward over the dog, I tried to kiss her. Panic crossed her face, and then she was turning again, gagging and heaving.
“You have morning sickness,” I realized. She ignored me, and Ariel whined, staring at us with big, sad eyes. I needed to get moving. If we didn’t get the dog clean, the smell would stick around for weeks—Marie couldn’t handle that.
Not with morning sickness.
“Go inside,” I told her. “Just strip off your clothes out here and I’ll take care of them. Clean up and go to bed—you need rest.”
She pushed herself up and rolled her eyes, weak but determined.
“No, I want to help you,” she said. “Despite you being a dumbass, we’re in this together. If you smell, I smell.”
“You’re crazy,” I said bluntly. “No sane person chooses skunk over bed, so get those clothes off and go inside. My baby hates skunk smell. Don’t fuck it up for him.”
Marie laughed.
“And how would you know that?” she asked, raising a brow.
“Everyone hates skunk smell. Just go . . . be pregnant somewhere. Wherever it smells the least.”
Marie rolled her eyes.
“Horse?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s not even nine p.m. yet,” she pointed out gently. “I’m knocked up, not a hundred years old. And you need help—we’re running out of time.”
Fuck. I looked down at the dog, whose mouth lolled open in a grin. Then his tongue caught a taste of the skunk-cleanser mix, and suddenly he was twisting his head around, smacking his lips, trying to get rid of it.