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“I was calling for you,” he croons, taking my shoulders in his huge, damp hands.
The hot water from his shower drips onto me as he towers above, looking down at what I’m busy with.
“Oh, Brynn…” he says, lifting my chin so he can look at me better.
I can’t tell if he’s happy or sad. Mad or glad that I’m already getting clucky.
Already nesting.
“Is this the surprise you meant?” he asks me firmly.
I feel myself looking down, nodding with a heavy head. Maybe it is a little too much too soon. Not every guy wants to talk about babies when they’re drilling you, I guess.
“Are you mad?” I ask him, gnawing at my lip. “I just want to be ready. Wanna be the best mom I can be… whenever the time comes,” I explain.
Because it’s true. I never want our kids to feel anything I ever did growing up. I only want the best of everything for them. Right from day one.
But Pearce’s look is odd. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. It’s like he’s actually speechless for the first time since I’ve known him.
“Brynn… I… I dunno what to say,” he finally says. Smiling. Hugging me close and making me wet from his dripping hair and body.
“Wait, I do know what to say,” he says, holding me back from him by the elbows so he can admire me. “You’re the greatest. The best, Brynn. I mean, how many people would order things for others first and then take care of those things before they even looked at what they bought for themselves?” he asks.
I know he doesn’t expect an answer, but his kiss and growing excitement tell me that he’s on board with the idea.
His hot and hard erection pressed right up against my belly, makes me shiver in a breath, smiling to myself.
I can’t pretend otherwise.
All I want now is a family with Pearce. This house, him as our baby's dad…
It’ll be the best life anyone could ever wish for and there’s no need to wish for it anymore.
We’re already living it.
After helping me shower and dress, with only a slight delay in our planned schedule, I’m in a fresh set of everything including the most expensive underwear I’ve ever owned thanks to Pearce.
He seems happier than ever. The sun shines through the gray clouds as we get closer to the city. It really feels like the sun’s coming out just for us.
Glancing at the dash, Pearce lets out a groan.
“I thought I was making good time,” he murmurs. “Just gotta stop for some gas. If you see a place, let me know,” he says as we cruise dangerously close to the side of the city I’d prefer to avoid.
Not too far from where I used to call home, what feels like a thousand years ago now but is really only a few days.
“There’s one up ahead,” I tell Pearce, way before we even get there.
I know it well enough. I used to work there during high school.
“Great,” he echoes back. “Perfect timing. Ya know I really am more used to having someone else do all the driving,” he says to himself.
It’s not busy and Pearce seems happy for me to wait in the car as he fills up, winking at me over his aviators once he’s done.
I watch him walk inside the gas station, smiling when he pauses to select a couple of bunches of flowers before paying.
But my happiness fades in a moment when I hear the familiar drawl of a not-so-friendly voice at the side of the car.
“Well, well, well… If it isn't a little miss runaway.”
I feel my heart stutter in my chest, and then feel positively sick at the sound of the voice.
It’s Steve Riggs, my mom’s boyfriend.
And just for good measure, he has his fucktard son along for the ride.
The bully and his dad.
“Watch ya go and do, rob a bank, Paddy fatty the whore?” Brad’s guttural voice sneers, bringing back an instant avalanche of every negative emotion I had from grade school right through high school.
Great. I hope they bugger off before Pearce sees—
Oh. Too late.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pearce
I don’t have to be back in town…
Okay, yeah I do. I want to see Whitman’s face once he realizes we (the shareholders and I, plus the remaining board) have bought him out.
His ally in the hostile takeover rolled over when I put cash on the table.
Lots of cash, figuratively speaking.
The upshot is, Masters Inc. has merged with Fanning, our only rival in business.
If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.
Whitman’s out and both he and Barbie will have some explaining to do to the stock exchange regulators as well as the police.
So I’m on my way to do a little of what I do best. A little bit of show up and gloat, smile for the cameras and leave, when we need some gas.
