Page 29 of Don't Fall For Your Grumpy Neighbor

I spot someone in the store I don’t know how to confront.

“Hi,” she says. “You’re Shepherd Atwood, right?”

I nod, looking at Felicity’s mother. “Helena, right?”

She smiles softly. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” she says, sticking out her hand for me to shake.

I take her small hand in mine, trying my best to look respectable. I knocked up her daughter. She probably hates me just as much as her daughter does. “Nice to meet you.” I don’t know what to say to her. I want to tell her that I don’t take this whole situation lightly.

“Do you have plans?” she asks me.

I raise a brow. “Tonight? I plan on cooking for your daughter.”

“No, I mean future plans. When the baby comes. I’m sure you’ll want nothing to do with it once she has it.”

I don’t like the way she’s judging me, but I get it. She wants to make sure I plan on sticking around. “I’m not going anywhere. I plan on being there every step of the way.”

She studies me, her eyes roaming over me like she’s trying to feel me out. Like she’s looking for the honesty in my words. “And what about three am feedings? And dirty diapers? I’m sure you haven’t even thought about these things.”

I nod with a smile. “I honestly don’t know what to expect, but I’ll figure it out as I go along. All I know is I plan to be there for my child as much as Felicity will let me.”

Helena smiles, her brown eyes shining. “You seem like a nice man. Felicity’s scared. She won’t admit it, but I know my daughter. She’s terrified.”

I puff out my chest slightly. “I’ll protect her,” I say, feeling this insane need to watch after Felicity take root deep inside me.

“I believe you.”

“Ten more minutes,” I tell Felicity as she sits on the couch in her living room.

I’m busily chopping fresh vegetables to add to the salad, and making sure the pasta is cooked.

When I arrived at Felicity’s house this evening, she didn’t appear too happy to see me, but once I told her what I was making her for dinner, she opened the door wide and let me in.

Chicken parmigiana just happens to be one of her favorite meals.

“Are you going to cook for me every night?” Felicity asks, walking into the kitchen.

I grab the chopped tomatoes and add them to the salad bowl. “If you want me to, yes.”

“But once the baby comes, you won’t need to keep me healthy anymore, right?”

I set the knife down, and step closer to her. “You’ll be the mother of my child. Of course, I’ll need to keep you healthy.”

“Shep?” She breathes out.

“What?” I inch closer.

“What are you doing? I’m nearly ready to crack here. I’m tired. My breasts are itchy. I’m horny all the time, and I don’t know what I’m doing. And to top it off you’re making matters more complicated.”

I zero in on one word.

Horny.

“You’re horny all the time?”

Her eyes flick to mine. “Figures that would be the one thing you’d pick up on.”

I smile. “I can always help you out in that department.”

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