Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
“We can bring the baby to visit them any time. You don’t have to make a life-changing decision right now.” The last thing I want her doing is making a big decision an hour after discovering she’s pregnant. But even if she does go back, I’ll find a way to support her and be there for her.
9
WYNTER
“Let’s do something fun,” Derek says.
When I think of fun, I don’t normally think of Derek. He’s probably the straightest arrow ever. My dad would definitely approve of him. As soon as I think the thought, I push it away. It doesn’t matter if my parents would like him or not. Derek is nothing more than the father of my baby. He feels responsible for the two of us now and knowing that he’s only with me out of a sense of obligation makes my heart hurt.
“What’s your idea of fun?” I ask cautiously. I’m trying to find normal ground again but how can I when I’m pregnant with my boss’s baby?
“You’ll have to find out,” he answers with a smirk. He knows me well enough to know that I’m eternally curious. It’s why I won’t read mysteries or thrillers. I can’t put the book down until I know the conclusion.
With a sigh, I follow him back to the truck and get in. Or I try to. Derek is right there, helping me in like I’m a little old lady attempting to cross the street. I start to tell him I’m fine then decide against it.
He hasn’t said it, but I sense his excitement over this pregnancy, over the thought of a baby. There’s a part of me that wishes we could be a real family, that he could want me too. Somehow, he found the strength to move on after our night together. For seven weeks, he’s been as impassive as stone. I’d be a fool to think I mean anything to him.
Derek starts up an annoying rock station and I flip to country. Modern music is still a weird concept to me. In the commune, there was music. Mainly, it was hymns but anything with stringed instruments was of the devil. Since leaving, I’ve listened to a lot of musical genres and discovered that country is my favorite. It’s a storytelling genre unlike any other.
He hisses as a song about a broken-hearted cowboy starts. “You know what they say a tornado and a redneck divorce have in common?”
I turn down the volume on the radio. “Can’t say that I do.”
“Someone is about to lose a trailer,” he drawls.
I wonder what he lost in his divorce besides his son. I’m sure he’d trade everything for more time with his boy. Once again, I’m filled with rage at a woman who would do that to him. Whatever happens between us, I’ll never keep the baby from Derek. “You made a joke.”
“I’m not always a grumpy bastard. I can be funny from time to time,” he says.
I snort. “No, you’re too serious. Always in control, always bossing people around.” It’s actually one of the things I love—well, like about him. I don’t love him. I can’t love him. Because he’ll just break my heart, even if he doesn’t mean to.
“You liked it when I bossed you around that night.” His tone has dropped low, that slight musical quality to it.
You’ll take my cock like a good girl, and you’ll like it too. I squeeze my thighs together. “I didn’t.”
His lips quirk as he watches me. Despite everything that’s happened between us, I can still get horny for him.
Must be the pregnancy hormones. I think in an attempt to reassure myself that he has no effect on me. He doesn’t. I don’t think about that night when I’m alone at my apartment and find my hand slipping between my thighs. I don’t imagine that look in his eyes as he came inside of me. He looked at me so tenderly, like I mattered to him.
He guides the truck back into the Courage County town limits, clearly lost in his own thoughts. Is he thinking of that night too? Is he imagining what it would be like to have a sequel?
“I thought you were taking me somewhere fun,” I manage to say. Really, I’m just talking to distract myself. After the excitement of the day, I’m so exhausted that I’m not sure how much fun I’ll have anyway.
“This place is special,” he answers, pointing to a sign that announces we’re on the Kringle Christmas Tree Ranch.
“I think it’s a little early to celebrate the holidays.” What will my holidays look like in a few years? Will there be a cute little girl toddling around behind me? Will I get to hand down my mom’s special gingerbread recipe? Will I show her my dad’s secret for making the green bean casserole perfectly?