Page 59 of Owned In Misty Mountain

My woman.

My baby.

My whole fucking world in one bed.

How am I supposed to be normal about that?

—-

By the time she opens her eyes, I’ve made toast, tea, fruit, three different types of scrambled eggs, and exactly two pancakes.

She blinks at the plate. “Babe…”

“You said yesterday you wanted something salty. And sweet. So I covered both.”

I kiss her forehead, rub her shoulders, help her sit up with every pillow in the cabin behind her.

She groans. “Mike, I’m pregnant. Not injured.”

“Pregnant with my kid,” I growl. “You don’t lift a finger.”

She stifles a laugh and reaches for the toast.

I hover.

She eats half a slice.

I breathe again.

—-

Later she says she wants to go into town.

I try to say no.

I fail.

But I drive. I park. I open the damn door for her.

And when Clara at the café says, “Oh look at that glow,” I say, dead serious, “Yeah. That’s mine.”

Shanay laughs. Clara coughs on her lavender honey latte.

—-

At the general store, Jack offers to carry a bag.

I stare him down for five whole seconds.

He backs up like I barked at him.

Good man.

Shanay grabs two tiny onesies and turns toward me with this… look. All sweet, all smug.

“You gonna build the diapers next?” she teases.

I lift my brow. “If I can figure out how.”

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