Page 3 of Rough Cowboy
I don’t have nerves, anxiety, or irritation. At least, I didn’t. Then I went and got knocked up, and my body turned into a bag of feral emotions I can’t control.
“I’m not doing this.” I stalk away from the window.
“Elsie.” My sister says my name in that pesky motherly tone I hate as much now as I did growing up.
“Lena,” I mimic her as I pull the green ruffled dress over my head. I look at the bundle of layered floral material in my hand. “By the way, I don’t like this dress. It screams old-mommy-I’ve-given-up-on-my-life dress.” I throw it on the floor and open my closet door.
There are my masterpieces. My designer outfits are all satin, detailed, and beautiful. All hang so pretty in a neat row. All two or three, or four sizes too small. I’ve lost count.
“I miss you so much.” I pick up my black mini-dress and glance at my protruding twenty-week belly. The material softly caressing my skin screams high-quality fabric.
Lena hangs the green floral dress in my closet. “You might want this later.”
“I don’t.”
“It’s comfy.”
“I just threw up a bit in my mouth.”
Lena faces me with a big smile. “You’re acting like a brat.”
My lips part to object, but she holds a gift box between us and...squirrel. My focus zeroes on the black box with a giant pink bow on top.
When I reach for it, she pulls it away. “I’ll forgive you because your hormones are playing havoc inside you.”
“Don’t remind me.” I slide my fingers through my natural-colored dull brown hair. Someone told me not to dye it while pregnant and watching the mousy color I’ve hated my whole life growing out has been painful. The waves fall back, framing my face.
“On one condition.” My sister holds up her pointer finger. “No more insults. Manners, Elsie. I taught them to you. Use them.” My sister gives me her motherly scolding stare. “Besides, you stood beside me when I picked out this dress. Don’t you remember pouting and refusing to pick one yourself? So, I picked one I would wear.”
My skeptical gaze slides down the powder blue maxi dress she dared to wear in public. I mean, it’s better than her regular T-shirt and jogging pant attire, which she didn’t give up when she married hunky cowboy Wheeler Wilde. Even though I showered her with sexy bustiers, chemises, and corsets at her late bachelorette party.
“You could accessorize your dress. Add a thick belt.” I pinch the middle of the flowing fabric. “Put on a jean jacket. Throw a statement necklace around your neck. A mixture of rhinestones and gemstones.”
Lena’s eyebrows hike upward and wrinkle her smooth forehead. “Are you finished?”
I fold my arms under my bra and above my baby bump. “Yes.”
She moves the box closer to me. “I had this shipped in from your favorite designer.”
For the first time today, I feel keen. A shimmer of excitement. A burst of hope.
“Aiden-O?” I screech.
“Yes.”
I curl my fingers around the box. “He’s my favorite.”
“I know.”
Knocking on the door interrupts us. “Elsie, are you decent?” Sammy Wilde’s sexy southern drawl pierces the door.
As sexy as a woman’s bestie’s voice can sound. We’ve been friends since I convinced him to let me vlog one of his bull-riding rodeo tournaments. We just click. Clicked to the point, we ended up in bed together, and now he happens to be possible baby-daddy number one.
“Yes,” I call out.
“You’re practically naked,” Lena hisses, lifting the box to hide my black lace-covered breasts.
I push down the box. “It’s nothing he hasn’t seen already.”
