Page 11 of Knockout (Whiskey Dolls 2)

“Nothing,” I answered casually, as if what Jude had said to me the other day didn’t bother me in the slightest, when the truth was, it had pretty much been all I could think about the past couple of days. Caring what other people thought of me had never really been an issue until now. I didn’t want his opinion of who I was as a person to bother me, but I couldn’t seem to help it.

I’d never had someone hate me just for being who I was, and I was agonizing over that encounter a whole hell of a lot more than I cared to admit. Usually, I could brush off the verbal spars with Jude, no problem, but this one wasn’t so easy. What he’d said the other day actually hurt my feelings, something I hadn’t thought he was capable of doing. I lifted my chin and squared my shoulders, even though I wasn’t feeling nearly as confident as I wanted, while declaring, "He’s not worth my time.”

Asher nodded resolutely. “No, he’s absolutely not. And if he’s too stupid to see how amazing you are, that’s his loss, not yours.”

“Exactly,” Mac agreed. “But I’d still like to make him hurt a little bit. I just have to think of something that won’t get me arrested. Bruce would lose his mind.”

I let out a laugh, feeling better than I had in days. Nothing like good friends who are more than willing to boy-bash with you to help put a spring in your step. I looked at the time on my phone and grabbed my purse strap from where it was hanging on the back of my chair. “Thanks, ladies. I really needed this, but today’s my day at Hope House, so I have to run.”

We exchanged hugs and goodbyes, and I headed out the door. I felt better because of them, but any lingering animosity washed away completely as I climbed in my car and started it. It wasn’t possible to stay in a bad mood when I knew I’d be spending my day with some of the best kids on the face of the earth.

My friend Rory Paulson and her husband, Cord, made the decision a few years back to open a group home for foster children after seeing the deplorable conditions their son had been living in before they adopted him and got him out of that special brand of hell that too many innocent children were subjected to. They saw how easily it was for kids to fall through the cracks, and having been in the foster system himself, Cord had felt especially connected to the purpose.

They’d worked tirelessly to create a safe place where the kids didn’t have to worry about not having food or clothes or a place to sleep, and the staff they’d hired to run everything were just as passionate about giving the children the best lives possible. I’d started volunteering about a year ago. I knew what it was like to live like they had, and I wanted to do everything in my power to give them better than I had growing up.

I’d been one of those kids stuck in the system, never really belonging, lacking that safety and security other children were lucky enough to grow up with. I’d been knocked down more than my fair share, but I’d pulled myself up and clawed my way out of that darkness. I’d learned from an early age that there was no one who could give me the life I so desperately wanted, that I’d have to fight and work and struggle to build it myself. And I’d succeeded.

I had more now than I ever imagined possible, and I was determined to pay it forward. If I could give those kids more than I’d had at their age, I was going to damn well do it. Just because things had been hard for me didn’t mean it needed to be the same for them. I was living a great life now, and I was determined to share those blessings—as much and as often as I could.

The director of Hope House, a sweet, unbelievably kind woman by the name of Tessa, greeted me as I pushed through the doors into the building. “Hey, babe. Good to see you.”

I leaned to give her a quick embrace. “Same. How’s everything going here?”

“Oh, you know. It’s a house full of kids...”

I smiled, letting out a little giggle. “So what you’re saying is it’s chaos and destruction.”

“Yep. Pretty much exactly that.”

“And how’s the little bun doing?”

She let out a happy sigh as she reached down to rub her protruding belly. “The bun is doing great. Not giving me any problems at all. It’s the daddy who’s going to drive me crazy,” she grumbled. But even as she said it, I knew it was all for show. It was written all over her face how flipping happy she was, and there weren’t many people I thought deserved that kind of happiness more than Bryce and Tessa Dixon. They’d been through more than their fair share of ups and downs before they finally found their way to each other. I’d heard their story from mutual friends, and it was like something out of a real-life fairy tale, full of struggles and hardships before finally ending on a happily ever after that would make women across the world jealous.

Bryce doted on his wife. He cherished the ground the woman walked on, and I couldn’t think of anything sexier than a big, hot, alpha of a man who worshipped his woman as much as he did Tessa. This baby was a long time coming, and both of them were beyond excited to grow their little family. I think the only person more excited for the upcoming arrival was their daughter, Charity, a girl they had grown close to at Hope House before fostering and eventually adopting her as their own. That girl couldn’twaitfor a little brother or sister.

“He’s hovering?”

“Ugh! The man’s a freaking helicopter,” she groaned. “If I make the tiniest noise, he’s running over to see what’s wrong. If I complain my back hurts, he’s trying to drag me to the doctor. With how he’s acting, you’d think I was the first woman on the face of the earth to give birth to a child.”

“Well, you’re technically the first woman to give birth tohischild,” I reasoned.

“I know,” she said on a breath, rubbing circles over her belly. “And I really do love him. It’s just...”

“Men can be epic pains in the ass,” I finished for her.

“Exactly!”

Reaching out, I gave the little bean growing in her belly a pat. “Just a few more months, babe,” I assured her. “A few more months and there will be this whole new person for him to helicopter over, andyou’llbe able to drink again.”

Her head fell back on a laugh. “I’m counting down the days.”

“And I’ll have a little rugrat to spoil.”

Her brows climbed up toward her hairline. “Because you don’t already have enough kids to spoil?”

I gave her an indignant look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really?” The look on her face screamed,woman, who you foolin’before she tipped her chin to the purse hanging off my shoulder. “All right then. What’s in your bag?”

---