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Duke was a man who knew when the battle was lost, so he threatened death and dismemberment if anything happened to me, kissed me hard and long enough to gather catcalls from the women, told me he loved me, and walked off.
I sighed and watched him leave, thinking about how nice his ass looked in those jeans.
“Okay, as nice of an ass that he has, we’ve got too many things to do to have you leering at your man,” Amy declared, dragging me inside.
So commenced the night of pampering, with face masks and cheese boards—although I was banned from soft cheese. Most of the women were drinking Harriet’s margaritas, and I surmised that they were powerful witches since every single one of them was still standing by the end of the night.
The women I didn’t know well, I got to know.
Mia was crazy. Like batshit crazy. And funny, hilarious. Her daughter, Lexie, also known as the lead singer to one of the most famous bands on the planet, was sweet. We’d met at various Hollywood gatherings and played the game. But it was so much better to do it without the mask. And me. And I actually knew who I was now.
Bex swore like a trucker—though most of the women did and I fucking loved it. She had sadness in her eyes, a hardness to her that was a mask for the soft, and a pregnant belly only slightly larger than mine.
Lily was soft-spoken, shy, drop-dead gorgeous, and had a beautiful calming presence.
Lauren, as it turned out, was the artist of the painting from the infamous night at the B&B in Amber. I’d pulled her aside to tell her how much her paintings meant to me and how I’d tried to buy as many as I could, but it turned out even a movie star had to wait.
Then, she’d informed me with a smile that there was a surprise for me, which was when she unveiled the painting. But it was more than a painting. There were no words to describe what was on the canvas. It was the ranch, at night time, under a thousand stars. It made no sense, but looking at that painting, I could hear them. Those stars. I could feel Duke’s arms around me on that cold night when I realized I’d fallen in love with him.
Duke had had the painting commissioned—the fucking night of the stars—before he’d known what was going to happen with us, before the job was over.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, wiping my eyes after I’d hugged Lauren.
Each woman looked at me with understanding.
“But come back,” Mia demanded. “I’ve got so many questions about what movie stars are real assholes behind the scenes.”
I grinned at her. “Honey, I’m the real asshole.”
Then I ran.
To him.
He had plenty of things to say about me running. But I shut him up with a kiss.
The next day, underneath a wedding arch that Tanner had made for us, we kissed again. This one was supposed to be more official, but who was I kidding? I was his from the moment I got in that car.
Arms went around my ever-growing midsection. Duke’s palms settled right below my belly button, where they mostly landed since I told him about the baby.
“It’s too cold for you to be standin’ out here, babe,” he murmured against my neck.
I rolled my eyes. “Are you ever going to stop being over-the-top protective?”
His hands tightened ever so slightly on my stomach. “No, baby. I’m not. Got the whole world in my hands right now. No such thing as overprotecting that.”
Well. I couldn’t argue with the man.
“What are you doin’ out here, anyway?” Duke asked after a beat.
“Listening to the stars,” I replied.
He kissed my neck again.
“I’m just taking one last moment to get used to the silence,” I said, stepping out of his embrace and turning around. The movement hurt—a lot. But I managed to hide my wince. “I think we’ve only got about thirty minutes, if that, before my screaming starts.”
Duke went still. “You better not be saying what I think you’re saying.”
I smiled. “Oh, relax. My water only broke like ten minutes ago. I knew you were on your way back since you texted me, and I also knew that telling you wouldn’t make you go any faster since you already break land speed records making it home to me. I’m not about to make this dramatic. We’ve had enough drama, don’t you think?”
It turned out we had not had enough drama.
“Pull over,” I gritted out. My hair was sticking to the thick sheen of sweat covering my forehead.
I was wrong. The screaming started much earlier than I thought, like as soon as we all got into the car.
Harriet had just happened to stop by.
I was certain that woman was psychic. She never “popped by” in the evenings without giving us a “thirty-minute warning to finish up and get your clothes on.” But this particular night, she’d apparently been walking under the light of the full moon and thought it was time for a visit.
