Page 82 of Captivating Anika

When you think about it, it’s been years in the making. Sure, we’ve only recently had a chance to see if those sparks follow us into the bedroom, but I think it’s safe to say we burn up the sheets.

That’s why I’m not freaking out about going ungloved in the heat of the moment. I’m thirty-nine years old, I’m coming to realize life can’t be lived in a straight line. Whatever happens, I’m learning I can handle much more than I give myself credit for.

“Your water.”

I sit up and take the glass from his hand, taking a drink before setting it on my nightstand. The alarm says it’s four forty-five, and I have a feeling there won’t be a lot more sleep. So, I swing around to face Hog as he climbs into bed beside me.

“In my dream I was pregnant,” I volunteer, watching him closely for his reaction.

It doesn’t come, his expression doesn’t change. Maybe the direct approach is better.

“We didn’t use a condom last night.”

He reaches out his arm and pulls me to his side.

“I’m aware.”

“Right.” I tilt my head so I can look at him. “But if you’re assuming I’m on the pill, I’m not, it interferes with one of my medications.”

He still doesn’t look shocked or upset.

“Sweetheart, I’ve basically lived in your back pocket for the last little while. I’ve seen you take your meds every night, but I’ve never seen you take the pill. When I say I’m aware, I’m aware,” he emphasizes.

“Oh,” is all I can manage.

He tugs me a little closer.

“Would it be so bad?” he whispers.

No. It would be a shock, and an adjustment, and I’m sure tongues would be wagging, but it wouldn’t be bad at all.

When I doze off, I do it with a smile on my face.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Hog

“Two? Why do we need two?”

The damn cart I’ve been pushing around Walmart won’t hold one of those double dog beds, let alone two.

“I thought the entire purpose of buying one this big is so the dogs could share it,” I point out.

It doesn’t even slow Anika down as she manhandles the foam beds until she has them shoved in the cart. It won’t fit anything else, and we haven’t even gotten to the food yet.

“One for at home, one for work,” she explains.

“The salon or the firehouse?”

“Either one. We take it where we need it.”

I don’t bother pointing out if we only had one, we could take it where it was needed too. I have a feeling it will fall on deaf ears. She’s already moving to the next aisle, where she’s picking out food bowls by the time I catch up.

Shopping isn’t my thing, but it clearly is something Anika enjoys, which is the only reason I’m following her around Walmart at eight thirty on a Monday morning.

The truth is, we do need at least some of this dog stuff the cart is piled high with. We’re supposed to pick up “the boys,” as Anika calls them, this morning. Their appointment with the vet was supposed to be first thing this morning, and Anika wants to make sure we’re there at nine. That way she has time to play with them before she has to go to work.

Aside from the nightmare early this morning, surprisingly, she doesn’t appear to have any major aftereffects from yesterday’s events. At least none I can see. She hit the floor running this morning, had breakfast waiting when I got out of the shower, and we were out of the house by eight to drop her mother’s car off on our way to Walmart. Right now, she is marching through the store on a mission, wearing a smile.

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