Page 25 of Taming Bull

She threw her head back and stared at the ceiling. “I think my ovaries just engaged. Dammit, dammit, dammit.” Looking back down at Marcus, she added, “Why do you have to be so damn cute?”

Havoc gave her a knowing chuckle. “Changes everything, doesn’t it.”

“Yeah. I… God, my chest. My fuckin’ uterus is screaming. What the hell are you doing to me, little man?”

Havoc’s shoulders shook with silent laughter.

Stocks’s eyes turned glassy. “You look damn good with a baby in your arms.”

“Hush, you. You’re not helping.” Looking at Havoc, she added, “It’s weird. I’d do anything for him. I’d kill anyone who hurt him. What is wrong with me?”

“Just wait until you have one of your own,” Havoc said.

Her gaze shot to Stocks. She studied his face for a few heartbeats, and then her eyebrows shot up in question.

Stocks gave her a lopsided grin. “You know I’m game if you are.”

She shook her head. “We’ve gotta be crazy. I’m not supposed to want a baby. I’m supposed to be the cool aunt who spoils the hell out of the club kidsafterthey’re potty trained and committed to a normal sleeping schedule.” She held Marcus up until he was eye level with her. “Will you please do something gross like barf or shit up your back?”

He made the cutest little cooing noise.

“Wail? Or at least fuss a little,” she pleaded. “Pretty please? Come on. Wail like a banshee for Auntie.”

He gave her another gassy smile.

“Goddammit.”

Julia chose that moment to walk back into the dining room. She took one look at Monica and laughed. “Looks like someone has baby fever.”

Rita elbowed me. “Hm. You were wrong. Turns out pregnancy is contagious.”

7

Bull

“NOW I KNOW what it feels like to be objectified,” Tavonte complained, gripping his coffee cup like it was a fucking shield he could use to ward off Ms. Moore’s advances. After getting repeatedly accosted during the drive, we’d left the elderly woman in the waiting area of the shop and were working up her invoice. “I need a shower.”

“She’s a bit handsy,” I admitted, trying not to laugh as I pulled up her insurance coverage.

“A bit handsy? That woman’s a fuckin’ octopus!”

Ms. Moore had spent the entire drive sandwiched between us, with a hand on each of our thighs. No matter how many times we tried to respectfully remove them. She was a lot stronger than she looked, and her vice-like grip was impressive as hell. My favorite moment of the drive was when she’d leaned over to Tavonte and asked him if the rumors about black men were true. He’d choked on air, and then feigned ignorance.

“I don’t know which rumors you’re talking about, ma’am.”

Her gaze dropped to his crotch and she licked her lips. “Oh, I think you do.”

Bottling up my laughter took every ounce of willpower I possessed.

She patted Tavonte’s leg. “Doesn’t matter. This is nice.” Sitting back, she seemed reflective. “Reminds me of my old skiing days.”

Tavonte’s brows drew together and he opened his mouth, no doubt to ask what she meant. Suspecting I knew, and he didn’t want to know, I shook my head. That was one disturbing can of worms he wasn’t ready to open. He met my gaze and snapped his mouth closed.

Ms. Moore looked pleased as punch as her hands steadily crept up our thighs.

“That woman’s not right,” Tavonte whispered, sounding scandalized. “She’s a grandma. She shouldn’t be asking questions about the size of my cock.”

“She’s just a lonely woman who took advantage of a bad situation.”

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