Page 3 of Curvy Girl and the Bad Boy Cowboy

My beer-addled brain struggles to make sense of the scene. Naomi had wanted more—relationship, commitment, all the things I'd explicitly told her I couldn't give her. We'd had fun for a while, but when she started dropping hints about meeting my family and making things official, I'd backed away. Fast.

A horrible thought strikes me, and I tap my forehead dramatically.

"Oh god," I blurt out, "are you here to tell me you gave me some kind of sexual disease? Because I've been feeling fine, but if there's something I should know—"

Jackson's expression darkens further, and Naomi's eyes go wide with something between shock and disgust.

"Jesus Christ, Ethan," she whispers.

And somehow, I know whatever she's about to say next is going to change everything.

Chapter 2 - Naomi

The words stick in my throat as I stare at Ethan's face.

He looks younger like this—confused, a little drunk, his dark hair disheveled from the night air. This isn't how I imagined telling him. Not standing in his family's living room at two-thirty in the morning with his intimidating older brother as a witness.

"Jesus Christ, Ethan," I whisper, my fingers automatically moving to fidget with the hem of my bakery polo.

The shirt feels tighter than it did a few weeks ago. Soon, I won't be able to hide it anymore.

"What?" he asks, his voice edged with defensive humor. "If it's not that, then what's so important that you're at my house in the middle of the night talking to my brother instead of me?"

I take a deep breath. I've rehearsed this moment for weeks, but now that it's here, all my carefully prepared speeches scatter like leaves in the wind.

"I'm pregnant," I say, the words tumbling out. "Four months pregnant."

Ethan's face goes completely blank before his eyes widen, a laugh bubbling up from his throat that dies as quickly as it started.

"That's not—" He shakes his head. "That's not possible."

"It is possible," I counter, my voice steadier than I feel. "And it's happening."

"But we were careful," he insists, running a hand through his hair. "I always pulled out."

Jackson makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, but I keep my eyes fixed on Ethan.

"That method isn't exactly foolproof, Ethan," I say, heat rising to my cheeks. I hate discussing this in front of his brother, but I didn't have much choice. "It's actually pretty unreliable."

"Are you sure it's..." He trails off, and I can see the accusation forming in his eyes before he even says it.

"Yes," I cut him off, anger flaring hot beneath my ribs. "I'm sure it's yours. I haven't been with anyone else for the past year."

Ethan looks stunned, like someone hit him with a plank. He staggers slightly, finding the arm of a chair and leaning against it.

"Four months?" he repeats. "But we stopped seeing each other almost two months ago."

"I didn't know then," I explain, the familiar guilt washing over me. "I wasn't feeling well, but I thought it was stress from the bakery. By the time I realized and took a test, you'd already made it clear you didn't want anything serious with me."

"So you came to my brother instead of me?" His voice rises, a flush creeping up his neck.

Jackson steps forward then, his presence solid and grounding between us.

"She came to the house looking for you, Ethan. You weren't here—as usual. I answered the door and found her upset on our porch."

"I wasn't going to tell him," I add quickly. "But he could tell something was wrong, and I just—" I gesture helplessly. "I broke down. I've been carrying this alone for weeks."

Ethan's eyes dart between us, looking betrayed.

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