Page 74 of The Bartender's Baby

While I silently seethed, he finished my left leg then snatched my towel from the floor and walked to the bed. “Come on.”

I spun around. “What?”

He merely waved his arm after spreading it out on the mattress. “Come here. I’m gonna finish shaving you. You want to feelin your body? Let me do it for you.”

“Ugh!” I stomped over to him and shoved him in the chest hard enough that he took two steps back. “Do you have to be so goddamn perfect all the time? You know how frustrating that is? You’re all…just…so…ugh!”

He muffled his laugh behind his fist, his eyes alight with mirth while I lost my mind. This baby was making me lose my mind.

“I can’t stand you,” I pouted, reclining on the bed, on top of the towel. He stuffed a few pillows behind me so I wasn’t completely flat then disappeared into the bathroom for another few minutes, returning with the razor, a warm, wet towel, and the shaving cream.

He settled between my legs, placing the towel over me as he made idle chitchat about how he had to pop over to check on the bistro and then planned on going to the grocery store.

I loved him, but I literally could not care less and stopped listening, trying to ignore how his thick yet nimble fingers pushed and pulled my sensitive skin taut so he could drag my razor down in easy, even strokes like he did this every day.

Like he was some professional barber who shaved vulvas all day.

Zoning out, I hadn’t realized I’d started singing until Nate sat up, grinning ear to ear.

I frowned at him. “What?”

“Are you taking requests?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re singing. First, it was ‘Fast Car,’ then it was that song from… Was itDawson’s Creek?” He mangled a few bars of the song.

I shook my head. “It was ‘Torn’ by Natalie Imbruglia, and it was definitely not theDawson’s Creeksong.”

“Sorry,” he said with a charming quirk to his lips, “I was too busy having a life as a kid to remember.”

I kicked at him, though he ducked out of the way, taking all his supplies with him. He’d finished already. I heaved myself up, struggling to peer down, over my stomach. When I couldn’t get a good look, I stuck my hand down there, drawing my fingers over the smooth skin. He’d done a good job, even around the creases and at the bottom by my butt.

Nate rounded the door of the bathroom, stopping when he saw me touching myself.

“Tabitha,” he droned in a pleasant singsong. “What are you doing now?”

“I wanted to see how you did, but I couldn’t. So I used my hand.”

He slowly closed the distance between us, wagging his head side to side. “You know the rule, don’t you, princess? That pussy’s mine. You need someone to touch it, I will.”

“Stay away from me.” I held my hand up. “Don’t even think about putting your dick anywhere near me.”

He smirked. “Good. Because it’s gonna be my face.”

He launched himself onto the bed, and I shrieked in laughter because even when I couldn’t stand him, I couldn’t help it. The man was a giant golden retriever, doing anything he could to make me smile.

I yelped as he buried his head against my thigh, rubbing his beard over my skin, but a familiar kind of pain hit my uterus. I gasped. “Wait, no. Stop.”

Nate froze. “What?”

I grimaced, smoothing my hand over the top of my stomach to the lower curve. “I think… It feels like I’m having a cramp.”

He placed his hand over mine, as if he could feel it too. “You think it’s a contraction?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what contractions are supposed to feel like.”

He dropped a line of kisses on the bottom of my stomach, murmuring words to Frogger about being gentle as he fished his cell phone out of his pocket. He pulled up one of his many apps and proceeded to rattle off information about contractions and reminders about time between and breathing.

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