Page 98 of Three Pucks and a Baby

“We figured if you were going to want to date us, you would expect us to have prenatal knowledge,” Theo reasoned.

“Aw, guys, that’s too sweet.”

With a wink, Grayson said, “We thought so.”

I laughed. “The truth is I don’t even have that much prenatal knowledge.”

Bennett’s brows popped wide. “You don’t?”

“Just because I have a vagina, it doesn’t mean I know everything about pregnancy.”

“Well, you need to get on it then,” Theo replied.

The corners of my lips quirked. “What books would you recommend?”

“I prefer the What to Expect app, myself,” Grayson said, as he started scrolling on his phone. With a grin, he held it out to me, “Look, the baby is the size of a blueberry.”

“It’s amazing how something that small can wreak such havoc on my body,” I mused.

Bennett flashed his phone with the cover of a book by Dr. Brazelton. “I remembered this one from when my mom was pregnant with Hannah.”

“No offense, but I think I’m more interested in a pregnancy book written by a woman.” Turning my nose up at the doctor’s wrinkles and gray hair, I added, “And preferably one who is younger.”

“The dude developed the Neonatal Behavioral Assessment scale, and he had a television program about babies, " Bennett argued.

Considering how earnestly he spoke, I knew I’d have to give the old doctor a try. “Okay, I’ll give him a read.”

Turning to Theo, I asked, “What about you?”

His cocky smirk curved on his lips. “I read several peer-reviewed journals by top-ranking gynecologists at Johns Hopkins.”

With a roll of my eyes, I replied, “Of course you did.”

The waiter appeared then. “What can I get you guys to eat?”

As the guys gestured for me to go first, I decided to take their advice. “I’d like the Caesar salad with grilled chicken.”

When the waitress started to write down my order, Bennett stopped her. “Is your Caesar dressing made with pasteurized eggs?”

“I’m sorry?”

Motioning to me, Bennett said, “She’s pregnant, so it’s not safe to eat unpasteurized eggs.”

“Bennett, this isn’t a five-star restaurant. I’m pretty sure they buy their dressing wholesale and don’t make it homemade,” I argued.

“Could you check?”

When the waitress nodded and started to walk away, I said, “Wait!”

When she turned around, I said, “I’ll take a steak, medium well, with a sweet potato with cinnamon, butter and brown sugar.” Cocking my brows at the guys, I said, “Is there a problem with any of that?”

“Sounds good to me,” Bennett replied with a smile.

“Thank goodness.”

Once the guys had ordered and the waitress left, Theo urged me to get up so he could get out of the booth. When I started to sit back down, he grabbed my hand. “Dance with me.”

My heartbeat thrummed wildly at his words. “I didn’t think you danced.”

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