AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Jess is frowning and rubbing her belly, so I move the topic from Chrissy back to the baby-to-be.
“Well, there’s Bryce then. She might have a baby.”
Jess jumps back in where she left off. “Even if she did have one, which I think she won’t, she wouldn’t be very much fun. She’s….” Jess pauses. “Well, she’s….”
“Impersonal,” I supply helpfully.
“Exactly,” she enthuses. “But you would be fun.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. I should be flattered that I’m considered fun, but the conversation is moving into a future that Trigger and I haven’t yet discussed. I try to think about how great it would be to have a baby with him. Maybe. Not sure. They’re messy and demanding.
Then I imagine dressing my daughter in designer outfits and little wool berets. She couldn’t wear heels until she was bigger, but Manolo Blahnek Mary Janes or Christian Louboutin derbys would be adorable on her tiny feet. If it were a boy, he’d wear little Levi jeans and Boss T-shirts. Maybe a tiny leather cut like his daddy has. And boots. I stop and think. I’m almost certain Michael Kors makes combat boots for children.
Fortunately, Jess interrupts my thoughts. “What do you think then. Baby or no baby?”
Instead of replying to the whole ‘should I have a baby’ conversation, I slide onto the barstool. “I’m not remotely pregnant so instead of orange juice, I would like a scotch please.”
She grins. “Coming right up.” She reaches for the Canadian Mist, and I shudder. I’d have to be almost dead to drink that rotgut.
“No.” I point at the bottle next to it. “The Glenfiddich single malt.” Someone around here has decent taste in scotch.
She hesitates then pulls it out. “What’s the difference?”
“Not a scotch drinker, are you?”
She wrinkles her nose. “No. It’s gross.”
“Maybe,” I murmur as she pulls a glass from a shelf, “But a shot of the good stuff makes a bad day seem not so bad.”
“A cold beer does that for me.” She sets the glass down and opens the ice cooler.
“No ice. Just some filtered water.”
She furrows her brow. “We don’t have filtered water.”
“What do the kids drink?”
That makes her pause. “Well, coke I guess.” She reddens as I raise an eyebrow. “At least I’ve got Verity packing apples in their lunches.”
“One small step at a time,” I smile.
“And she’s smoking outside now, thanks to your Wendy.” She glances towards the doors. “What’s she doing here anyway? Shouldn’t she be at the clinic?”
“Well, besides the citation, other things happened today, and Trigger wanted me to come in with Wendy.”
Her eyes brighten. “Do tell.”
“Don’t tell,” Eight rumbles as he strides towards the bar. “Not until you’ve been told what you can say.”
I flip my barstool around and look the biker up and down. He’s not ugly, not pretty, but would be a draw to women who liked the tall, dark, silent type. Except that he’s closed up. I can see it in the set to his mouth, his dark stare, his coiled body. He’s violence, not danger. He’d scare most women off, including me. “Sure,” I reply because I’ve lost my words and that annoys me more than a bad manicure.
Rocky saunters over, proprietarily tugging Jess to him, kissing her like they’re alone in a hotel room. “Missed you,” he says.
“Missed you too,” she replies rifling her hands through his hair.
Eight grunts and stalks towards Oscar, who puts down his controller and jumps to his feet. He grabs his pack and the two walk out together, Oscar saying a few words and Eight nodding.
“Where’s Trigger?” I ask Rocky when he comes up for air.
