Page 103 of Broken Bonds

“Well, hello to you, too,” I say, freezing when Ramsey gasps.

I look at her with wide eyes when I see hers glistening, scared I fucked up already.

“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s a total faux pas, right? Just touching a pregnant woman’s stomach without permission. I didn’t think—” I stop talking when Ramsey puts her hand across my lips.

“It’s fine. That was just really freaking cute. I didn’t mean to get all teary-eyed. It’s all the hormones. Honestly, don’t apologize. You’re more than allowed to touch… If you want, that is,” she says, her cheeks going pink again when she moves her hand.

I smile at her before shutting the door and walking over to the driver’s side and getting in.

I very much want to touch Ramsey. Her belly and more, but I won’t say that out loud. Not right now, anyway.

Once we’re on the road, Ramsey reaches over tentatively and grabs my hand. When I link our fingers together, she smiles at me, her shoulders relaxing, and my heart soars.

Before the night is over, I will kiss this omega.

ChapterThirty-Four

RAMSEY

On the wayto and from the grocery store, Rion tells me about himself.

I learn he’s an only child to beta parents, but he doesn’t go into too much detail about his home life. He says his dad isn’t a great man, but I can tell how much he loves his mother based on how he talks about her. He worries about her a lot, and I hate that for him.

He tells me he likes the color orange and country music. But not the new stuff. He grew up on Conway Twitty, Johnny Cash, George Straight, and his mother’s favorite, Shania Twain. While in the car, we listen to some of his mom’s favorite songs, and I belt the lyrics out with him, thoroughly enjoying that he’s so freely open to singing out loud with me to such girly songs.

By the time we get back to my house, my cheeks hurt and my belly aches from how much I’ve smiled and laughed.

“I’m serious. He smacked right into the side of the building in our third year, checking out an alpha a year below us. Busted his nose and everything, but I think he was more embarrassed than anything. His face turned fire engine red,” Rion says, shaking his head as he grabs all the bags after helping me out of the truck.

I snort, laughing so hard it’s silent, and tears stream down my face as I envision a teenage Forde walking directly into a brick wall because he’s too preoccupied checking out a girl. And then I picture his cheeks turning bright red while blood trickles out of his nose. I’m so going to pick on him about this at some point.

“I can help, you know,” I say as we walk to the front door, and Rion mock glares at me.

“I’m a big strong alpha. I can carry a few bags all by myself,” he says, making me giggle.

“Alright, if you say so, big guy.”

I unlock the door and let us in, directing him to put everything on the counter by the sink. I take his jacket and hang it up with mine, then kick my shoes off and pad barefoot back to the kitchen to get my cutting board and knife. Rion sets everything out for me, throwing the bags away, and then looks at me, waiting for me to tell him what to do.

“Can you get the bacon started while I chop the cabbage and clean it?” I ask him, grabbing him a pan and passing it over.

“Alexa, play the best of nineties country,” I call out, grinning over my shoulder at Rion.

With the song “Maybe It Was Memphis” by Pam Tillis playing softly in the background, I chop the heads of cabbage as he cooks the bacon, humming along to the familiar tune. As I listen to Rion singing softly and the bacon sizzling in the pan, my heart stitches itself together some more. I sway my hips to the rhythm of the music, unable to keep the smile from my face.

It’s all very… homey. The two of us in the kitchen, country music playing in the background as we work together. It feels normal and nice to have someone in the kitchen with me. I almost wish he’d walk up behind me and wrap his arms around me, place his hands on my belly, and dance with me just because he wants to.

Maybe one day…

I rinse the cabbage once it’s all chopped and bring Rion a plate with a paper towel for the bacon. He finishes that up while I grab a pot and start the water to boil for the egg noodles, then I cut up the Velveeta. “Carried Away” by George Strait starts playing as Rion finishes the bacon and I throw the cabbage and bacon grease together in a bigger pot to cook down. Then I smile up at him and hold my hands out.

“Dance with me?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

“Do you know how to two step? Because that’s about all my mama ever taught me to do,” he says, grabbing my right hand and I rest my left on his arm.

His right arm goes around my waist, his hand resting in the middle of my back, and he pulls me as close to him as he can without squishing my belly.

“Show me what you got, cowboy,” I tell him breathlessly, and he chuckles as he moves me across the kitchen floor.

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