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“Rickman,stop staring at my daughter and get your head in this game,” Garrett roars, and I can see the quarterback’s face turn beet red. I barely resist the urge to snort as my husband glances up and winks at me from the field. He’s enjoying that poor boy’s discomfort a little too much.
Ever since our oldest began to notice boys, he’s been hell on wheels. When Liam Rickman IV, the team’s quarterback, asked her to homecoming, I thought the top of Coach Caveman’s head would blow off.
“Why does Dad insist on embarrassing me in front of the entire school?” Lissa huffs dramatically.
“He’s having a hard time dealing with you having a boyfriend.” We’ve had this same conversation about five thousand times. I thought raising my teenage brother was hard, but it was nothing compared to dealing with all the estrogen floating around our house these days. “But I think Liam is winning him over.” Well, not exactly. My husband only agreed to tone down his overprotective streak after I used my powers of persuasion on him. On the sideline, my husband stares at me and licks his lips. Oh, man. Pregnancy hormones kick me in the rear end at the look of pure lust shining from his eyes. Seventeen years and five daughters later, and he still looks at me like I’m the cherry on his hot fudge sundae.
It’s the reason I’m in this condition right now. The night I put all my effort into convincing him to ease up a little on our daughter, I kinda forgot to take my birth control, andboom. Here we are, seven months away from becoming a family of eight—nine including my brother. Now, I have to find a way to tell Coach Caveman the news. Since he already has a lot on his plate with Lissa going on her first date, I plan to wait until after homecoming to spill my news.
“Promise me Dad isn’t really going to chaperone the homecoming dance,” Lissa groans and tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder for emphasis.
Oof. That’s one promise I can’t make. In fact, I’m pretty sure Razor, Todd, and most of the MC brothers all plan to help Garrett out with his chaperone duties.
“It will all be fine,” I tell her, and she glares at me with a look of disbelief that reminds me so much of my brother. “You know your dad just wants to protect you. You’ll go to the dance with Liam, and you won’t even notice your dad.”
“I can’t take the embarrassment,” she grumbles with every ounce of sixteen-year-old dramatics she possesses.
“I’m sure you’ll survive.” I turn back to the field and watch my husband jog across the sideline. Those darn khakis stretch across his perfect rear end, turning up the volume on my lust to blaring. I glance at the scoreboard and wonder how in the heck I’m going to survive the last quarter without self-combusting.
Of course, keeping my other four daughters occupied during the game while Lissa pouts occupies my mind.
There aren’t a ton of penalties in the last quarter, but the other team insists on using all three of their timeouts, even though we’re winning by a decisive twenty-one points. I breathe a sigh of relief when the game finally ends. “Come on, girls. It’s late,” I tell my tired, grouchy children before leading them out to the car.
* * *
“Mrs. Backer is eyeingRazor’s ass again,” Adalynn whisper-hisses, and I shush her. We’re behind the bleachers “covertly” watching as the men chaperone the homecoming dance.
“She’s older than dirt,” I whisper back and nudge my friend to the side to get a better view of my husband, and I’m impressed he’s actually handling the whole daughter situation better than I’d expected.
“She might be old, but she’s using her bifocals to eye my husband.” Adalynn stares daggers at the older woman.
“We’re here to make sure the guys don’t embarrass Lissa too much.” Charlie somehow manages to control her volume. “Plus, you know Razor only has eyes for you.”
“I know, but I still want to rip off her wig and shove it down her throat.”
“Wow. Remind me never to tick off Adalynn.” Charlie fake shudders.
“What in the world is Todd doing?” Adalynn snorts, and I follow her gaze to see my brother standing next to the DJ stand, making threatening gestures to Liam Rickman. “That poor boy must really like your daughter if he’s willing to go through all the hell our men are putting him through.” She fidgets around, guiltily before admitting, “I didn’t want to tell you this and freak you out, but they cornered him in the locker room ‘to have a little chat’ this afternoon.”
“You’re kidding.” I’m not really surprised. Those men are nuts when it comes to protecting their women and children. Cash Montoya brought over a pile of used targets from the shooting range for Garrett to hang up in the den. Of course, whoever shot these targets is either a crack shot or they were standing right on top of them because every single one has several perfect holes right below the target’s waist.
“At least the kid survived.” Charlie laughs. “I mean, he doesn’t appear any worse for wear.” That doesn’t mean anything.
I’m pretty proud of the way the guys are handling themselves. There’s no bloodshed, and my daughter appears to be enjoying her night out. When the dance begins to wind down, we all sneak out the side door.
“I’m going to rush home and relieve my babysitter before Garrett catches me.” I look behind us to make sure no one is watching us. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at the barbecue.” We’re having a barbecue at our house to celebrate homecoming with the entire team.
“We’ll be there.”
* * *
I manageto get the girls down with minimal fuss and rush through a shower before my husband makes it home. I tell myself that I’m going to lie down and wait for him, but pregnancy hormones have other plans for me.
“I love you, Cherry.” My eyes pop open when Garrett slides into bed next to me.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” I turn over and wrap my arms around his waist as he pulls me into his arms. My head lays on his shoulder as he slowly runs his hand up and down my arm, sending little sparks of electricity shooting up my spine.
“Those pregnancy hormones really do a number on you.” He smiles and attempts to kiss me, but I pull back.
“You know?” I can’t freaking believe I’ve gone through all this trouble to keep my secret a surprise and he already knows.
“Cherry, we’ve been through this five times already. I know the signs that you’re carrying my child.” He pulls my head down for his kiss. Once he turns me into a melted mess, he lifts my head and smiles up at me. “There isn’t anything about you that I don’t know,” he brags and pulls me close. “I know all about your little excursion to the homecoming dance tonight.” Darn. All the secrecy for nothing. Oh well, I’d planned to tell him about us crashing the dance tomorrow morning anyway. “And I know without a doubt that this time we’re having a boy.” Now, that I doubt. After five girls, I’m pretty sure my husband doesn’t possess any male sperm.
“We’ll see about that.” I honestly don’t care one way or the other. I love Garrett and our children more than anything in the world.
It’s a first, but Garrett is wrong. Seven months later, I give birth to our sixth beautiful daughter, and Garrett asks for a do-over so he can make his prediction come true. Since I can’t tell him no, and I freaking love working on our project, we end up with two more girls before he finally produces a male sperm.
