Page 174 of Moon's Promise

No, she answered her internal question. There was no comparison between the two. God help her, but she would take whatever Moon was willing to give her. She also loved him enough that she would let him go when he wanted to. There wouldn’t be a lasso strong enough to hold Moon when he didn’t want to be held.

Her hand went to the swollen belly. “Don’t worry; you won’t have the same problem,” she softly murmured.

Fluttering movements within her brought a tender smile to her lips.

“He’s going to love you.”

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

“Any plans for the day?” Moon asked, humor evident in his expression.

She removed her gaze from him and the stack of pancakes to the unappetizing glob of oatmeal her mother had given her instead of the pancake tower she had prepared for Moon. “Nothing much. Priss is coming over this morning to bring the birthing pool and the equipment we will need.”

Moon’s eyes grew anxious. “Are you having a contraction? I’ll call in—”

Larissa raised her hand. “I’m not having any contractions. We’re just getting prepared. Relax. There’s no need not to go to work.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she assured him.

“I want to be there when you go into labor,” he told her inflexibly for the millionth time.

“Moon, you’re not going to convince me to go to the hospital. I’m having the baby in my home. Didn’t Train tell you it was the most beautiful experience of his life?” she reminded him.

“You forget the part where he said he’d rather cut both his nuts off than go through that again?”

“I did.” Making a face at him, she snuck a bite of pancake when her mother wasn’t looking. “He was exaggerating.”

Watching her mother out of the corner of her eye, she tried to steal another bite, only to have Moon take her spoon away with a wicked grin.

“Meanie.”

He laughed at her and slid the pancakes across the table to her, taking the oatmeal for himself.

She gave him a grateful smile and she dug into the pancakes before her mother noticed the switch.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Rising from the table, he gave her a mischievous glance. “Of course, you’re going to have to explain how you ended up with the pancakes. I’m out of here.”

“Coward.”

“You ready to throw her ass out the door?”

“Shh … she can hear you. You know I’m not.”

“Then you’re on your own.” With a brief peck on her cheek, he was gone.

She was lifting her fork speared with a generous bite of pancakes, when she looked toward her mother to see she was being observed.

Under her perusal, she ate the bite. She didn’t feel bad enough to stop eating them, but she did feel bad that she had been caught.

“You’re terrible.”

“I’ll eat oatmeal tomorrow,” she promised, carrying the empty plate to the sink. “I couldn’t resist. You could have given the oatmeal to him.”

“It was meant to be a peace offering.”

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