Page 36 of Reckless Encore

A sob escaped her throat with the dwindling torture, and she glanced to the person now standing in the doorway.

Mitch leaned against the frame, eyes glazed, smile goofy. “Honey, I’m home.”

Oh,God.

“You’re late, Mr. Davies. She’s already five centimeters dilated.” The midwife released Alana’s hand and strode for her husband. “Take care of her until I get back.”

Mitch winced and waited for the woman to leave the room. “Sorry. I didn’t realize my phone was set to silent. Otherwise, I would’ve been here sooner.”

And probably less intoxicated.

The slight drawl in his words made it obvious her husband would not be holding a newborn baby in the near future. She would make sure of it. Mitch could be clumsy at the best of times. After a few drinks, he became downright lethal.

“Where are the others?” She clutched the bed rail and sucked in a breath as another contraction approached with the force of a freight train. She didn’t hear his answer. Her ears rang with static and the heavy sound of her panted breathing.

Pain.

So much pain.

“Allie, are you okay?”

She could hear him. Could feel him, too. His hands moved over hers. His lips at her temple. She reached for him, her fingers brushing through his hair. She clung to his neck, dragged him close, and pressed their foreheads together.

She held him like a lifeline and he repaid the favor, his arms encircling her back, his nonsensical words in her ears. When the suffering subsided, she collapsed, exhaustion taking hold.

“Allie?”

She mewled.

“Allie, are you okay?”

She nodded and cringed at the potent alcoholic scent of his breath. “What have you been drinking?”

“Everything. The guys kept pressuring me to stick to their pace. And those fuckers can drink.”

Her husband could be such a man child. “I called you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He ran his palm over her forehead, his cool skin a gentle balm to the fire taking over her body. “How did you get to the hospital?”

“I caught a cab once the nanny arrived. Chase was still asleep when I left.” She slumped onto her side and stared up at him. “Did you enjoy yourself, at least?”

He paused, and the slight hesitation awakened her anxiety.

“What happened?” She pulled herself to a seated position and tried to decipher the meaning behind the mass of wrinkles crinkling his forehead.

“Nothing.” He shook his head. He shook it too damn fast.

“Mitch…” Her tone held a warning he should be more than familiar with.

“It’s nothing, sweetheart. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Talk. Now.” The approach of another contraction tightened her abdomen. “Mitch. Tell me.”

“There was a bet. Or a challenge…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how to classify it.”

The tightening grew, harder, more intense. “Spit it out.”

He cringed. “Blake won naming rights to the baby.”

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