Page 86 of Make it a Double

Food was definitely calling my name, but my aching feet screamed louder. “I need to get these boots off,” I whined. “Who said it was a good idea to squeeze into these things?”

Beckett placed his foot on the floorboard, patting his knee. “Let’s get’em off then.”

I eyed him skeptically. “It’s cute that you think I can lift my leg that high.”

“Let me come down to you then.”

Before I could stop him, Beckett dropped to his knees in the middle of the parking lot and extended my leg. His hands skated over the leather until one rested above my heel and the other on the toe. He tugged lightly, only having to struggle for a moment before the first popped free.

“Oh my god,” I moaned, wiggling my toes. “Sweet relief.”

He smiled up at me as he did the same on the other leg. Then, he grabbed both boots and placed them in the back seat. “How about I make us a grilled cheese when we get home?”

“With pickles?” I asked hopefully. I didn’t know what it was about the combination that had me salivating, but Beckett didn’t seem to mind.

“I think I can manage that,” he said, closing my door and walking around to the driver’s side.

The arena wasn’t far from Beckett’s cabin, but I’d gone from hungry to hangry in the span of twenty minutes. Each time my stomach rumbled, he placed a hand on my stomach and told our son to be patient a little while longer. It was enough to stave off the threats I wanted to mutter if he didn’t feed me as soon as possible.

It wasn’t until we pulled up to the house that I remembered I wasn’t wearing shoes. Even though I’d grown up running around barefoot, I no longer had the calloused skin I did back then. Groaning, I turned in my seat to try to grab my boots, but it was no use. They were just out of reach.

“What’s wrong?” Beckett asked, peering behind him into the darkness. “What do you need?”

“I have to put my boots back on,” I whined. “My feet are too tender to go barefoot across the rocky drive. I’ll die.”

Beckett climbed out of the car, heading around to my side. He opened the door and unbuckled my seatbelt. When he tried to scoop me out of the car, I held my hands out to stop them. “Whoa. What’re you doing?”

I didn’t really like the thought of him picking me up when I wasn’t pregnant, but I was much heavier now than I was then. There was no way I could be sure he wouldn’t drop me or pull something trying.

“Taking you into the house?” He looked at me quizzically. “Figured that would be better than being uncomfortable.”

“By carrying me?” I asked.

He nodded slowly, confusion clear in his expression. “Yes?”

“Absolutely not. I’m too heavy.”

Beckett rolled his eyes. “Sugar, you’re not too heavy, I promise. Just let me—” I squealed as he placed one arm at my lower back and the other beneath my knees, lifting me into his arms. “There. See? I’ve got you.”

I held on to his neck, squeezing my eyes shut as he walked around the vehicle and bounded up the steps. The subtle scent of lavender greeted us as he walked through the front door and set me down.

“Don’t ever do that again,” I said, placing my hand on his shoulder to steady myself. “That was the most terrifying thirty seconds of my life.”

“Even more than finding out you were pregnant?” he joked. When I just glared, he blew out a breath and whispered, “Okay… No jokes. Got it. Why don’t you go upstairs and run a bath while I cook us up some late-night snacks? You already said grilled cheese with pickles. What else?”

He really did have a way with words. Food was the way to my heart, and hearing him bow down to my weird ass cravings was nothing short of sexy. It was then that I remembered our heated exchange with the cowboy hat. The chances of that playing out now were slim to none, especially if he knew I wasn’t feeling my best.

“Do we still have any Hot Cheetos Puffs?” I asked.

“Bought two bags yesterday,” he said with a knowing smile. “Want me to put some mustard on your plate to dip them in?”

“Please,” I said, gripping his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss. “That would be amazing.”

Beckett gently squeezed my ass before giving it a pat. “Consider it done. I’ll bring it up when it’s ready. Go soak your feet, okay?”

I nodded, watching him head into the kitchen before I made my way to the bedroom. The stairs were becoming my enemy. It was getting harder and harder to walk up them without feeling like I’d just run a marathon, but the giant soaking tub upstairs was worth it. Beckett had ordered a plethora of scented Epsom salts and bubble bath so that I could soak in style.

Making my way into the bathroom, I turned on the faucet and tested the water before creating a lavender concoction of my dreams. I shed my clothes, slipping into the foamy water, and sighed. I’d never liked sitting in baths until a few months ago, but consider me a fan for life now. Surrounded by a sweet floral haven, I let my eyes drift closed.