Page 2 of Saving Their Forever

Cara thrusts a pan of lasagna at him, then darts back down the hall to the elevator. “I’ve got another huge casserole downstairs. Put that one in the oven at three-fifty!”

“Sorry,” Hope says as she squeezes past Ry. “The doctor doesn’t want me carrying anything heavier than three pounds, and Wyatt has his hands full.”

“Where do you want…all of this?” Wyatt asks. A diaper bag is slung over his shoulder—the nicest one on the market—and his other arm is buried under a stack of blankets, and a body pillow. When Ry just blinks at him, he strolls by, shaking his head.

Hope passes me a small, pink bag that smells like heaven—and my favorite body lotion.

“Crap on a cracker. I thought we agreed ‘only baby clothes and spit-up cloths’?” I didn’t want a big, fussy shower. Just my closest friends together for a silly afternoon with no responsibilities before my life changes forever.

“Like we were going to listen. Harlow is going to be the most pampered little girl in all of Seattle.” Hope beams as she leans gingerly against the counter.

Carefully, I step forward and wrap an arm around her. The back brace is bulky under her light blue sweater. “How much longer do you have to be in this contraption?”

She sighs. “Another three weeks. At least I don’t need the cervical collar anymore. I felt like I was choking the whole time.”

After her ex had her dragged down a flight of concrete stairs a few months ago, Hope broke two vertebrae. It’s only in the past two weeks that she’s been able to walk without pain.

“Sit down. You look exhausted.” I slip my arm through hers and try to lead her to the couch, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Wren, but your furniture is all too comfortable. It’s easier if I sit up straight—or just stand. Otherwise, all this plastic digs into my hips, and it’s torture.”

Ry disappears into the back room while Wyatt piles gift after gift in the corner by the bassinet. When he’s done, he moves to Hope’s side and rubs his big hands up and down her arms. “If you need me to come home early, call.”

“Our place is only two floors down, stud,” she says with a laugh. “I think I can make it there myself.”

“And if not,” Cara calls, breezing back into the condo with a second tray of lasagna, “I’ll get her home. We’ve got this, boys. Go save the world. Or train to, anyway.”

Ry drags a solid, wooden chair into the living room. “Will this do, Hope?”

"It's perfect," she says, easing herself down onto the hard seat and sighing. "I swear all physical therapists are sadists. I've never done so many squats, leg raises, and glute bridges in my life. Every muscle in my body aches. All the time."

"When I get home tonight, darlin'," Wyatt says with a wink, "we'll see how sore you are."

Her cheeks flush a dark red.

“That’s it,” I say, pointing to the door. “The pregnant lady is putting her foot down. Ry? Wyatt? Time to go.”

Ryker wraps his arms around me, cups the back of my neck, and angles my head so he can claim my lips. The kiss leaves me breathless—and wet. I shouldn't want him this badly. Not when I'm as big as a house. But I do. The books say the last few weeks of pregnancy can leave a woman incredibly...needy, but I didn't think it would be this bad.

My nipples pebble against my bra, and I dig my fingers into Ry's biceps. If we had time—and privacy—I'd drag him back to our bedroom and tear his clothes off. But at that moment, someone whistles behind me.

I break off the kiss, and shove at Ry's chest. "Go. Now."

My knees sway for a beat when he releases me. "Call me if you need anything."

“I know, I know.”

The door shuts behind Ry and Wyatt before I notice Inara and Raelynn standing in the kitchen, looking anywhere but at me.

“You weren’t much better,” I say, grinning at Inara when she meets my gaze. "I seem to remember you making some pretty big puppy dog eyes in Russia when you found out you could call Royce."

She turns and starts rummaging in the fridge. “You want a beer, probie?”

“Uh…” Raelynn, the newest member of Hidden Agenda darts a quick gaze to me, then looks back down at the floor. She’s still struggling to accept this new family of hers. Of ours. “Wyatt’s trainin’ with the guys today. There some reason you’re still callin’ me ‘probie’?”

“Because I can?” Inara passes her a bottle of Pilsner, and I stare longingly at the local brew. Of everything I’ve had to give up the past nine months, beer is what I miss the most. Even more than the truly epic amount of coffee I used to drink. My single cup a day now barely cuts it, and sparkling water only gets me so far.

Raelynn’s shoulders dip when she sees the longing written all over my face. “Sorry, Wren. I can have somethin’ else. We can have somethin’ else.” She elbows Inara in the ribs, and the sniper’s gray eyes meet mine.

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