Page 19 of Curvy Girl and the Bad Boy Cowboy

"Really." She pushes her half-eaten grilled cheese toward the center of the table. "Want to split this? I can't finish it."

"Sure," I say, taking half. "Back to names. You really like Grace?"

"I do," she admits. "It's classic. Pretty."

"It was my mother's name," I tell her. "She was the only one who could ever get all five of us boys to behave just by raising an eyebrow."

"Sounds like a useful skill," Naomi laughs. "One I hope to master."

"You'll need it with a Covington daughter," I warn her. "Stubborn blood runs deep."

"Tell me about it. I've already experienced the Covington stubbornness firsthand." She gives me a pointed look that makes me laugh.

"Fair enough," I concede. "But seriously, what do you think? Grace Harper Covington, right? Or do you have other ideas?"

"Grace Elizabeth Harper Covington, maybe? After my mother?"

"Grace Elizabeth Harper Covington," I try it out. "Sounds like someone who could run the world someday."

"Or at least Cedar Falls," Naomi smiles.

As we finish our meal, sharing the last of her chocolate milkshake, I find myself imagining a future I never thought I'd want—playdates and school recitals, teaching a little girl with Naomi's eyes and my stubborn chin how to ride a horse, how to stand up for herself, how to be brave.

For the first time, that future doesn't terrify me. It excites me.

Chapter 6 - Naomi

As Ethan pays the bill—waving away my attempt to split it—I watch him interact with Madeline, who's giving him what appears to be a good-natured lecture judging by his sheepish grin. It's strange seeing him like this, stepping into responsibility so naturally when for months all I saw was his resistance to it.

"Ready?" he asks, returning to our table.

"What was that about?" I nod toward Madeline.

"Oh, just the standard 'you better do right by that girl' speech." He smiles. "I think I'm going to be getting a lot of those in the coming months."

We step outside into the afternoon sunlight. The air has that perfect fall crispness that always makes me want to bake apple pies and cinnamon rolls.

"I should probably get you back to the bakery," Ethan says, jingling his keys.

I check my watch. "Actually, Melissa's got it covered for the rest of the day. I cleared my schedule, thinking I might need to rest after the appointment."

"And do you? Need to rest?" His concern seems genuine.

"Not really," I admit. "I'm feeling pretty good today."

We stand there for a moment, neither of us quite ready to end our time together. The ultrasound image burns in my pocket like a talisman, connecting us in a fragile and unbreakable way.

"Would you like to come over?" I find myself asking. "To my place? I've actually started setting up the nursery, and I thought maybe you'd want to see it."

Surprise flickers across his face, followed by something that looks like pleasure.

"You've already started on a nursery?"

I nod, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "It's nothing fancy. Just some ideas, really. My place is small, so I'm converting the guest room."

"I'd love to see it," he says.

Twenty minutes later, I'm unlocking the door to my small craftsman bungalow on Maple Street. It's tiny compared to the sprawling Covington ranch house, but it's mine—the first property I ever owned, purchased with the down payment I saved from five years of working double shifts at bakeries in Billings before returning to Cedar Falls to open my own place.

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