Page 64 of Burden to Bear

Of course, it wasn’t that I didn’t think she was capable. I knew she was. And in another scenario, I might not have felt the overwhelming desire to step in during any of these situations.

The problem now was that she was just two months away from her due date, and it was sweltering outside. When she turned the mower around and started moving across the lawn in the opposite direction, now facing toward my house, it gave me the perfect view of her face.

She looked miserable.

And hot.

She was moving much slower than I suspected she would have if she wasn’t seven months pregnant.

Despite having done what I’d done for my property early this morning, so I could avoid being out in the heat and sun, I didn’t have it in me to sit back and watch this woman risk her safety, or that of the baby’s, just so I could keep myself cool.

Without a moment of delay, I set the bracket down on the workbench and walked out of the garage, pulling the door shut behind me.

Mia saw me making my approach, made it to the edge of her grass, and turned off the mower.

“Hi, Brock,” she greeted me, her cheeks redder than ever, with a sheen of sweat covering her face. “How’s it going?”

My brows knit together. “You look uncomfortable.”

She didn’t try to deny it. “Has it always been this hot at the end of June, or is it worse for me now because I’m pregnant?”

“I was thinking it feels much hotter than it usually does at this time,” I shared.

Mia brushed the back of her left hand over her upper lip before lifting her right arm up to wipe the sweat off her forehead with the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Well, that’s a relief. I mean, it’s horrible, but at least I know I’m not crazy. I slept in a bit later today, and I went crazy cleaning my house this morning, so I didn’t realize how late it had gotten by the time I was ready to come out to mow. I would have put it off until tomorrow, but my parents and my brother are coming for a quick trip to visit and bring me the things I couldn’t fit in my car from the baby shower weeks ago. I would have waited on the grass, but if I do, my dad or my brother would come here tomorrow and take care of it, and with them being here for only a few hours, I wanted to be sure I could enjoy my time with them.”

I reached for the handle of the mower, my hand inadvertently covering Mia’s. “Get out of this heat, go inside, and get yourself something cool to drink,” I urged her. “I’ll take care of this for you.”

“What? No, Brock, you can’t do that.”

“Mia, I’m not joking with you,” I said, my tone calm but serious. “Get inside and cool off. I can’t stand by and watch you struggle to do this while I’m perfectly capable.”

“But… but it’s not your responsibility.”

That doesn’t mean I don’t want it to be, I thought.

I lifted my other hand up toward the handle of the lawnmower. But instead of reaching for the handle, I curled my fingers around Mia’s delicate wrist. “Maybe not. But if something happens to you or the baby because I sat back and watched you instead of helping, I won’t be able to live with myself. So, please, Mia, go inside, get out of this heat, and let me take care of this for you.”

Though it couldn’t have been more than fifteen or twenty seconds that we stood there in such a tense silence, it felt like whole minutes had passed as Mia’s wide eyes roamed over my face and her shocked expression eventually turned to acceptance. “Thank you,” she rasped.

I gave her a gentle nod in response and released her wrist, lifting my other hand slightly, so she could remove hers from the lawnmower.

She turned and walked away, and I gave myself the opportunity to take a few seconds to watch her ass as she made her way back inside. Then I got to work and mowed her grass for her.

The next day, I’d just come back into my house after spending the better part of the morning in my workshop finishing up what I hadn’t the day before when it happened.

I’d made my way to the kitchen, washed my hands in the sink, and reached into the fridge for a drink. And as I leaned my hips against the counter and looked out the window, I saw her.

Mia.

Fuck.

She had walked out onto her deck, her family with her, and she was wearing a bikini. Damn, she looked beautiful.

My hand went to my groin, my dick stirring to life at the sight of her. That was nothing new. I’d been dealing with unsavory thoughts of Mia for months now. How could I not when I loved the sound of her voice, the way she laughed, or how she openly shared whatever was on her mind without hesitation?

It hadn’t been easy before now—I spent more time than I cared to admit getting myself off in my bed or in the shower while visions of Mia danced in my mind. Now? Now I’d have something else to add to the visions.

Mia, in a bikini, looking undeniably sexy.

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