Page 57 of Surly Sheriff
He loved the way her breasts pushed against her pink and blue floral top. “Let me tell you … having babies isscary. You know how we’ve both suffered Bella complaining about stretch marks and watermelon boobs and bladder-piercing acrobatics and that Braxton-Hicks stuff …”
He nodded.
“Well, it gets worse, Beau. So much worse.”
She straightened her spine, turned to face him, lifting and crossing her legs. “Did you know that Thea Hudson’s water broke in the middle of the supermarket? Like one bigwhoosh” — Rae fisted her hands in the air before flicking her fingers wide — “all over the floor. In thecerealaisle. And one friend of Bella’s from high school endured twenty-seven,twenty-sevenhours of excruciating pain. She said it was like a million demons possessed her body, ripping her insides apart.”
Rae shuddered and shook her head. “And they give you an enema, so you don’tpoopwhen the baby presses against your bowels. Oh, and everybody stares at your vagina. Like a parade of people to see if you’re dilating—” She stopped, and her eyes widened comically. “Oh. My. Word. Beau, theycutyou, downthere” — she pointed to the juncture of her legs — “if there’s not enough space for the baby to squeeze through so you don’t tear. Tear!Like rip your vagina open.
“And when you finally get to push the little alien out, it’s covered in slime and blood and … andstuff. And ifthat’snot enough, the poor battered woman’s gotta expel thefreaking placenta.”
She gulped a huge breath and released it with a long exhale. “And that, Beau, is when the fun and games start. You have this tiny alien sucking and chewing on your boobs until your nipplescrack. But wait, there’s more. Like too much milk, or not enough, and leaky boobs, and whichfreaking breast pumpworks the best!”
Nowhewas bug-eyed. “A … what? Breast pump?”
“Yes. Breast. Pump. It’s this little plastic contraption that suctions onto a boob and sucks out the milk. Like acow.” She buried her hands in her face. “It was horrific, Beau. Truly horrific. And get this; they served no alcohol to soften the blows. And Ineededto dull my senses,” she wailed.
She fell back onto the couch and flung her arm across her eyes. “Swear to God, Beau, I am never, never,never everhaving babies.”
“Poor baby.” He reached for her hand, pulled her upright, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Can I get my traumatized girlfriend a glass of wine?”
She fluttered her eyelids. “My hero.”
And because he couldn’t help himself, Beau leaned in for another kiss. This time on her lips. She wound her arms around his neck, and the kiss stretched into a make-out session, leaving him heated and horny. About to whisk her off to the bedroom, he thought better of it. Besides, he had some life altering news himself.
“Wine.” Breathing hard, he disentangled his limbs from hers. “And I need a beer,” he added, dragging himself to the kitchen.
Opening the fridge, he embraced the cool air flowing over his inflamed body, grabbing a long neck and the chardonnay in the door.
“How was your day?” Rae called out. “Guess the storm put paid to washing your truck.”
He poured the wine before dropping his bombshell. “Bought a house.”
She gaped at him. “A real house. Like” — she waved her hands about — “this?”
“Actually …” He lifted the long neck, took a swig of beer, placed the bottle down very carefully, and looked across the room to meet her gaze. “This one exactly. And the main house. Obviously.”
“You’re kidding me.” She narrowed her eyes. “Right?”
“No kidding involved.”
Rae shot up and moved to him. “While I was away enduring the torture session masquerading as a baby shower, youboughta house?”
“Well, to be precise, it happened earlier, while you were working.”
“That’s wonderful, Beau. Congratulations.”
Not for the first time, he wondered if he’d lost his mind. He lifted the bottle and guzzled more beer. For a rational man, he sure made some impulsive moves lately. Yet every one of them felt so damned right.
“Always planned on buying my own place. My father left us money. Bella started her business. And I bought a house.” He shrugged. “I took Kismet for a quick walk just before the rain started and met up with Mrs. Jacobs. Her viewing was a no-show. On impulse, I took a walkthrough. Next thing, we’re sitting out the storm” — he pointed to the kitchen table — “and filling in the paperwork. The price was fair but on Mrs. Jacobs’ advice, I offered ten below. Heard a while ago they accepted my offer. Unlike this place, the main house needs updating, but the bones are good. It’s a peaceful neighborhood. There’s plenty of space for Kismet. And a perfect office for you,” he added, peering at her from behind hooded lids.
A flash of pleasure crossed her face before her features shuttered. “You want me to … move in with you?”
“Yeah.”
She stared at him, sipping her wine, her expression inscrutable.
Her look put him on his guard. He removed the glass from her fingers and gripped her hands. “Say something.”
