Page 85 of Cowboy

“No,” I yell. “That means the baby is coming.”

Risking a glance at Bull as I feel like I’m in the most vulnerable position I’ve ever been in, I find him smiling at me.

“What?” I snap, sticky and wet as the cold is catching up to me.

“The baby is coming,” Bull slowly repeats, his voice soft and sweet as his hand comes to my ankle. He’s unlacing my boots. “Maybe we should get you out of the wet things.”

“No,” I hiss again, but my body jackknives, and I clench my teeth as I groan through the pain.

“Okay, sweetheart. Breathe for me.” Bull repeats the breathing technique he used with me in the baby store when I had the panic attack last summer. Breathing with Bull calmed all my fears then. He was with me. I was safe. He wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I follow his lead as he shifts, looking over the front seat and finding the stack of blankets I brought.

He snags one and pulls it into the cramped space we occupy. Then he removes my boots and slips down my jeans. The cold rushes up my legs, but Bull has one thick sleeping bag under me and wrapped around my legs before another wallop of pain hits.

“What can I do?” Blade mutters from where he stands just outside the slightly open door.

“Get in here and close that door,” Bull commands.

“I’m not coming in there and listening to her scream.”

“Get in here and help me,” Bull demands, struggling as he keeps his hand on my knee while reaching over the front seat. “Thank God there are so many blankets in here. Ready to tell me why?”

My mouth opens, but another wave of pain hits me, and I turn for the back of the front seat, screaming through the pain.

“I’m out,” Blade states. “I’ll check on the ambulance status.” Blade slams the driver’s door closed, enveloping Bull and me in darkness minus the lights streaming through the back window from the Engagement Tree. That beautiful tree. My moment is ruined.

“I’m so sorry, Bull,” I whimper, tears leaking down my face.

“Why are you sorry, sweetheart?”

“I wanted to do it right. I wanted you to know I love you.”

“You love me?” he chokes.

“I do,” I groan as another wave hits me.

“Breathe,” he whispers to me, and I try, I really do, but the pain is more than anything I’ve ever felt. Bull stretches his body over the front seat before turning his head to look at me. “There’s a picnic basket on the floor.”

Yep. I had it all planned. The picnic in the bed of the truck. The warm blankets. The . . .

“What’s this?” Bull holds up the small black box and more tears blur my vision. I’ve messed this all up. Screwup Scarlett. It’s not going to get any worse than this.

“I wanted to— Ahhhhh.” I scream. Bull settles back to the seat as best he can. He barely fits where he’s wedged his body, and his hands come to my knees again, watching me through the pain. His fingers clutch at the box balanced on my knee.

“Scarlett, just hang on, sweetheart.” He encourages. “You’re doing great.”

“I screwed up,” I yell through the subsiding wave.

“Nothing’s screwed up,” Bull says.

“I had it all planned. The tree. The dinner. The ring.”

Bull stiffens.

“I just wanted to do this right.”

“Do what right?” he quietly asks.

“Ask you to marry me.”