Page 18 of Feastin' with Fire
The bell over the door jingles, and I look up to see Jimmy filling the doorway, still in his uniform, fresh off his shift. My body responds instantly. A year together and I still get wet just looking at him.
"Place looks amazing, babe," he says, crossing to me in three long strides and wrapping me in his arms. He smells like smoke and sweat and man, and I breathe him in deeply.
"Thanks to you," I reply, rising on tiptoes to kiss him. What starts as a quick peck quickly deepens, his tongue sliding against mine, his large hands splaying across my back.
"Careful," I warn when we finally break apart, both breathing harder. "I just arranged everything perfectly."
He grins, that devastating half-smile that still makes my knees weak. "Then maybe we should take this home. I've been thinking about fucking you all day."
"Pervert," I tease, though my panties are already dampening at his words.
"Your pervert," he corrects, giving my ass a squeeze.
"Forever," I agree, but the word catches in my throat as I remember why I asked him to meet me here after his shift.
He notices immediately. He always does. "What is it?"
This is it. The moment I've been rehearsing all day. I take his hand and place it flat against my still-flat stomach.
"We're going to need a bigger house," I say, watching his face. "Or at least turn that home office into a nursery."
His blue eyes widen, confusion transforming into stunned realization. "Are you saying...?"
"I'm pregnant," I confirm, my voice steadier than I expected. "About eight weeks along."
For a moment, he just stares at me, his hand still pressed against my abdomen. Then, without warning, he lifts me off my feet and spins me around, a whoop of joy echoing through the shop.
"Careful with the flowers!" I laugh, clinging to his broad shoulders.
"Fuck the flowers," he says, though he sets me down gently. "We're having a baby!"
His joy is so pure, so unrestrained that tears spring to my eyes. I remember the gruff, closed-off man who pulled me from that fire. The man who kept the world at arm's length. Now he's spinning me around a flower shop, his face split with the widest grin I've ever seen.
"Are you happy?" I ask, though the answer is written all over his face.
"Happy doesn't begin to cover it," he says, dropping to his knees in front of me. He pushes up my blouse just enough to press his lips against my bare stomach. "Hey in there," he says softly. "It's your dad. I can't wait to meet you."
My heart feels like it might burst. This man… This incredible man who fights fires and builds shops and makes love to me like I'm the most precious thing in the world is going to be a father. Our child will have his strength, his kindness, his unwavering loyalty.
"I love you," I tell him as he rises to his feet. "Both of you."
He pulls me close again, his embrace gentler now, protective in a new way. "I never thought I'd have this," he admits, his voice rough with emotion. "A wife. A child. A family."
"That makes two of us," I say, thinking of my parents who still haven't contacted me, who don't know they're about to becomegrandparents. Their loss. My family is here now. Jimmy, our baby, this town that rallied around us.
"We should celebrate," Jimmy says, his hand finding mine. "Let me take you to dinner. That restaurant that has that pasta you've been craving."
"Actually..." I bite my lip, feeling suddenly bold. "I had a different celebration in mind."
His eyebrows rise. "Oh?"
I reach past him to flip the sign on the door to "Closed" and turn the lock. Then I pull the blinds down over the front windows.
"What exactly are you doing, Mrs. Sullivan?" he asks, his voice dropping to that low register that never fails to send shivers down my spine.
"Christening my shop properly," I say, already unbuttoning my blouse. "Unless you're too tired from your shift?"
He laughs, the sound rich and warm. "I'm never too tired for you."
