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“Say what?” Jazz blinked at the pointed look Harper shot her way, then glanced at the checkout guy. His cheeks had turned the color of apples. Oh crap. “No, these clothes are for me. My baby. This,” she said, peeling up the bottom of her top to show off her bump, much to Mrs. Duffy’s audible horror. “Jeez, it’s just my stomach.”
“You’re pregnant?”
“And married,” Mrs. Duffy added, in case Jazz had forgotten.
“And married?” the guy repeated, clearly shocked. “I thought you were a teenager.”
“Hardly,” Jazz sniffed, shoving a pile of thick terrycloth towels festooned with frogs at him to make him stop talking. “I’m way past my teen years.”
Harper snorted. “Way past meaning barely.”
Jazz narrowed her eyes and continued unloading her cart.
“I didn’t mean to insult you,” he said softly once Harper had guided Mrs. Duffy away to look at a display of carriages. “I just…well, you’re cute.”
Jazz’s bad mood slipped away as if it had never existed. “Thank you. I really needed to hear something nice today.”
“So, married, huh?”
“Yes. We’re practically still on our honeymoon.” She showed him her ring and smiled. “But I’m flattered.”
“When are you due?”
“Fall.”
“Have you checked out the Apex line of car seats? Not sure what kind of car you drive, but they’re rated really well and can be customized to fit all vehicles.”
Jazz sighed. She’d gone from cute to a potential commission in one fell swoop. She couldn’t blame the guy. Gotta get your dolla dolla bills however you can, right?
She paid and rolled the cart outside, following Harper and Gray’s mother who were discussing the merits of one baby carriage over another. Jazz hadn’t read up on them yet, so she had nothing to contribute. She tried to appear interested though, not wanting to let her previous mood overshadow the end of the shopping trip. It was almost over. She’d survived, if not thrived.
Her phone went off, signaling a text from Gray, and his mother stopped talking and glared. Literally glared, as if she expected to find out her son was sending pornography over the internet or something.
Jeez louise.
“Well, I hate to shop and run, but my big guy will be coming home from his workout and he’s usually looking for dinner.”
“It’s three-thirty,” Mrs. Duffy said.
“Yes, but I’m a chef. Preparing good food takes time.”
Mrs. Duffy brightened. “Oh, a chef! How lovely.”
“It has its moments.” Harper juggled her shopping bags and lifted her brows at Jazz. “You cool?”
Such a simple two-word question, such a long sob story of an answer. “Yes, I’m perfect.” Jazz smiled and leaned forward to give Harper a big hug, though their mutual shopping bags almost toppled them both. “Thank you for coming today.”
“No prob. It was fun.” Harper drew back and frowned, conveying a ton of concern in just one snap down of her brows. “Call me later?”
“Try and stop me,” Jazz said, her smile holding while Harper said her goodbyes to Mrs. Duffy and waved.
“Well, I guess that’s my cue to—”
“You ignoring me or what?”
The smile turned genuine at the deep voice behind her. She whirled toward the sound and rushed into Gray’s arms, hugging him as if it had been a lifetime since she’d seen him rather than just since breakfast. His mouth was on hers before she had time to draw breath to sayhello.
All it took was the rub of his soft lips and the slow slide of his tongue for her to even out again. Just like that, she didn’t care that baby girls were supposedly so much more fun to buy for or that Mrs. Duffy was treating her like a sex maniac because of one not-so-innocent text—thatshehadn’t even sent. Because hey, she was a sex maniac for this man. She wanted him twenty-four/seven, and anyone who had a problem with that better look away fast.
