Page 14 of His Innocent Omega
He seemed to collect his wits fairly quickly, I’d give him that. Pulling out a walkie talkie from who the fuck knew where, it loudly squawked to life. He said a bunch of stuff I didn’t even try to pretend to understand. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the meanings for all the codes he'd just rambled off. Not pushing this baby out, when that’s all my body wanted me to do, took my full concentration.
Why had I thought driving myself to the hospital had been agood idea? Because I hadn’t had a contraction yet when my water broke? Yeah, the first one had hit five minutes into my drive, and it had hit hard and fast. This baby was fucking impatient, and she was not waiting for anything. I hoped that wasn’t going to be her personality and this was a one off for her.
“Okay, let’s get you in the back and take a look at the situation.” His dark voice washed over me, and I think he must have been pushing some of his Alpha pheromones my way too, because I instantly calmed.
That or I was just really happy to have someone be in charge for a minute that wasn’t me. This shithurt, and this wasn’t at all what my birth plan was, and I was ready to call it and go home. What had Dr. Sinclair told me last week? Oh yeah, birth plans are great, but plan for something to throw your plan completely out of whack, and be prepared to roll with it.
This was as far out of whack as you could get, and I didn’t want to roll with it. I didn’trollwith things. The last time I hadrolledwith anything, six weeks later I’d been peeing on a stick, and praying to the porcelain Goddess. I liked order, charts, graphs, spreadsheets. Lists. I loved a good list. I had a list for everything.
Giving birth in my car wasnoton any of my lists.
Looking up at him through my lashes, I huffed, “I’m. Not. Moving.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, the ones that still reminded me of rich coffee beans. “Don’t be difficult, boy.”
“Not…your…boy! Not…your…anything!”
Chapter Seven
Wyatt
“Sheriff, everything okay over there?” The unknown voice called from somewhere behind him.
Turning his head, the sheriff–yep, still didn’t know his name–called, “Does it look like it’s okay, Stan? Can you get traffic moved away from the car? I really don’t want us to get hit. And make room for an ambulance to get through here!”
With that last shouted command, he slipped his arms under and around me, and had me airborne before I could say boo. Hanging on for dear life, another contraction ripped through my mid-section, stronger than all the rest before it. Letting out a harsh scream was allI was capable of.
“Holy shit!” That came from Stan, I was sure.
“Shhh.” The low growl was in my ear, and I wanted to tell him he could take his ‘shhh’ and shove it right where the sun doesn’t shine. I was busy having a fucking baby. And it hurt! This pain didn’t even come close to a tenth of how I’d imagined it. Well, honestly, when I’d imagined it, there had been painkillers involved. Epidurals. Nice things like that. This natural birth bullshit was just…bullshit.
And it hadn’t been on my list or in my birthing plan.
Kudos to the people who did this without pain relief, but I’d never wanted to join that club.
Despite his size, and his harsh tone of voice, he laid me gently down in my back seat. Pushing up on my elbows, I watched him warily. He bent down in the doorway, his hands going to the elastic waistband of my maternity pants. They were still wet from my water breaking. I hadn’t thought to even change, just waddled past the movers with a cheery, “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Denial, thy name is Wyatt Cooper.
Tugging my pants down and off before I could protest, I huffed, “Can anyone see me? I don’t need to be flashing the whole county my goods.”
“You’re being very practical and prissy at a very impractical time,” he growled, in that dark rumble I remembered every time I closed my eyes. He was pretty much blocking any outside light with his body, so I doubted anyone could see me. And frankly, as another contraction ripped through me, I decided I didn’t give a flying fuck who could see what. This baby wanted out and I was more than happy to oblige her.
“Whoa.” For the first time since he’d knocked on my window, I heard a tremor in his deep baritone.
Leaning up further, I demanded, “Whoa? Whoawhat? Whatthe fuck does that mean?” Was that hysterical sound my voice? I sounded one step away from completely losing it.
His large hand was hot on the bare skin of my thigh. “The baby is definitely coming.”
“No shit, Sherlock!”
Tugging at the walkie talkie again, he growled into it. “Jen, can I get an ETA on that ambo?”
More static and squawking, then, “Three minutes out, Becks. There’s a bit of a traffic jam with the road construction.”
“Stan!” He barked over his shoulder. “Get those cars out of the fucking way so the ambo can get through! Now!”
“On it!” Stan sounded as panicked as I felt.
