Page 42 of Hunny and the Bear

Her fingers twisted along the hem of her shirt as she struggled to keep her composure, refusing to admit the truth. “It’s just pregnancy hormones.”

“Okay,” he answered slowly, but there was an uncertain note in his voice as he added, “I never want to hurt you, Hunny. Or make you think I’m taking advantage of you. Please believe that.”

Oh, great. Now he was consoling her becausehefelt bad. He’d be better off digging her a grave outside and just letting her wallow in it until she died of shame.

The silence between them grew, and the tension was taut and oppressive. Enough so that Hunny mustered up a small smile, sending him a quick, fleeting look. “I don’t feel that way. Everything’s good between us. I promise.”

Tank stayed there for another few seconds and then he put the covers back on the bed for her. She quickly looked away from him, lying back down as she pulled the covers close, wishing they’d swallow her whole.

Tank sighed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Yup. I’ll just”—cry my eyes out—“get a bit more rest.”

It wasn’t until he’d locked himself in the bathroom, the sound of the running shower loud through the door, that Hunny let herself cry, hoping to ease some of her wayward emotions.

It didn’t work.

“How are you feeling, Hunny?” Tabitha asked later that day, ushering both Hunny and Tank into an examination room just off from the clinic’s lobby. The building was attached by a long hallway to the den house and just a mile from Tank’s cabin, but after a silent drive over, it had felt like an eternity.

Hunny felt Tank crowding in behind her, and her irritation spiked. She was tempted to turn around and demand he haul his big bear ass back to the waiting room. This wasn’t his kit so he didn’t need to be here. Instead, she ignored his presence like she had all morning. She didn’t want to say anything she’d regret later, and right now, she wasn’t in the proper mindset to talk to him about anything.

She was still too hurt.

She placed a protective hand over her still-flat stomach, looking at Tabitha. “Pretty good, I think.”

It was a lie, obviously, but it was a better answer than, ‘Actually, I tried to have sex with your son this morning and he shot me down spectacularly. No, I have not recovered from the emotional trauma.’

Her cry earlier had only caused resentment to build, and instead of feeling better, she was now pissed offandmiserable. It didn’t matter that several hours had passed since theincident;Hunny’s mood hadn’t improved in the slightest.

Probably because Henry ran from me like I was diseasedandon fire, she thought irritably. Even though she’d read all the signs wrong, including the metaphorical neon arrow pointingto the erection he’d hadno problemthrusting against her, his reaction this morning was over-the-top.

Completely ridiculous.

Falling out of bed in his haste to get away from her?Puh-lease. That aggravating male never let her sleep more than an inch away from him any other night, but now,suddenly, she was disgusting to be around? Confusion and hurt warred within her.

She dropped her hands to her side, clenching them into fists to help keep her mind focused on this appointment.

Tabitha sent her a quick smile, adjusting the white doctor’s coat she wore as Hunny climbed onto the examination table. “Nervous?”

“No,” Hunny grumbled, only to wince when Tabitha shot her a hesitant look. “I’m sorry. I’m a bit hormonal today. And okay, maybe a little nervous,” she added at the last second, hoping to placate Tank’s mother. It wasn’t Tabitha’s fault she had a jerk for a son.

As soon as the thought entered her mind, Hunny felt guilty.

Was Tank really a jerk? No, he wasn’t. He’d set boundaries, albeit aggressively, and she didn’t need to throw a fit just because she didn’t like them. He had already done so much for her. He was her friend before anything else, and she needed to be respectful.

Even if it did hurt.

And God, it hurt so much.

Don’t think about it. Focus on your kit. Focus on yourself. Deep breaths, bitch. You’ll be okay. You’re always okay.

“Hormones happen,” Tabitha said matter-of-factly, in way of explanation for Hunny’s poor behavior, taking a seat on a small medical stool with wheels. A large cart was beside the bed, a sonogram machine sitting on top. “Lie back for me, and we’ll take a look at your kit.”

Suddenly anxious, Hunny did as instructed, moving her shirt up until it rested just under her breasts. Needing an outlet for her nerves, and still moody, she turned toward Tank, who’d parked himself in a corner, and waved a hand at her bare belly. “Feel free to look away if this is too much for you, Tank. I don’t want to freak you out again.”

As soon as she said it, she felt like an asshole.

See? This is why you need to keep your mouth shut until you’re feeling less bitchy.

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