Page 13 of Curvy Girl and the Bad Boy Cowboy

Inside the bag is a lemon bar, slightly squished but carefully wrapped in wax paper.

"I stopped by Sweet Somethings," he explains. "Melissa said you've been craving these, but you ran out this morning. That's partly why I was late—I wanted to surprise you."

The gesture is so unexpectedly thoughtful that I don't know what to say. It's just a lemon bar, but it's also so much more—it's evidence that he was listening, that he remembered something important to me, that he went out of his way.

"Thank you," I finally manage, my voice softer than intended.

"Naomi Harper?" A nurse appears at the door to the exam rooms.

Together, we stand and follow her down a hallway lined with posters about fetal development and breastfeeding. Ethan's eyes dart everywhere, taking it all in.

"First ultrasound?" the nurse asks him kindly, noticing his nervous energy.

"Is it that obvious?" he asks with a self-deprecating smile.

"Only to someone who sees it every day," she assures him, showing us into a dimly lit room with an exam table and a monitor. "Naomi, you can change into this gown. Dad, you can have a seat right there."

Dad. The word seems to catch Ethan off guard. He sinks into the chair she indicated, looking suddenly overwhelmed.

When the nurse leaves, I squeeze his hand briefly. "You okay?"

He nods, not quite meeting my eyes. "Just... real. This makes it real."

"It's been pretty real for me for a while now," I say, attempting humor to lighten his mood.

That gets a small smile from him. "Right. Of course."

"I'm going to change," I tell him, taking the hospital gown behind a small screen in the corner.

As I change, I hear him shifting in his chair, the sound of magazine pages turning.

"Did you know," he says suddenly, "that right now the baby is the size of an avocado?"

I smile, though he can't see me. "I did know that, actually."

"And it can hear us," he continues, clearly reading from something. "It says here the baby can hear voices now."

I emerge from behind the screen in the gown, catching him with a pregnancy magazine open on his lap.

"You've been doing your homework," I observe.

He looks up, a bit sheepish. "Vincent gave me a bunch of books. Said they helped him when he had Lucy."

Before I can respond, the door opens, and Dr. Mason enters—a kind-faced woman in her fifties with whitish hair.

"Naomi, good to see you again," she greets me warmly before turning to Ethan. "And you must be the father. I'm Dr. Mason."

"Ethan Covington," he says, standing to shake her hand.

"Covington? One of the ranch Covingtons?"

He nods. "Yes, ma'am."

"I delivered two of your brothers," she says with a smile. "Though that was many years ago now."

This connection seems to relax Ethan slightly as I settle onto the exam table.

"Alright, let's see how this little one is doing," Dr. Mason says, squirting cold gel onto my exposed belly. "This is your first ultrasound, correct?"

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