Page 60 of Stowaway Whirlwind
He laughs when I roll my eyes, though my cheeks grow warm. “That’s two spankings. Keep it up.” He leans in close and whispers against my lips, “I dare you.”
So I nip his lower lip with my teeth.
“That’s three,” he says huskily. He abruptly backs away and discreetly readjusts his dick behind his big silver belt buckle when a group of people spills out of the diner, walking to their separate vehicles. I turn in my seat for more privacy, and Davis shuts my door, still laughing to himself as he walks around the front to hop in on his side, waiting for Lily to finish before we run our next errand.
“Four,” he says, firing up the truck to turn the heater on, directing the vents toward me.
“What? I didn’t even say anything!”
He narrows his eyes. “You were thinking it.”
“Was not!” I blink. “Wait, thinking about what?”
Davis turns in his seat, leaning back against his door as he drums his fingers on his right thigh. “About how your pants fit.”
In an awed whisper, I ask, “How did you know?”
He slides me closer across the bench seat, one hand around my back and the other shoved under my waistband to palm my bare belly pooch. “We might not have known each other long, but I knowyoudeep down inside.” He kisses my cheek, then lightly squeezes my belly, which makes me squirm uncomfortably. “Five,” he breathes out, caressing my skin with his thumb. With his green eyes burning with desire, he adds, “And If I have my way, they’re about to get a whole lot tighter.”
Good luck with that, I think to myself, wondering why Davis is keeping up this game when he knows I can’t get pregnant yet.
Davis
Later in the afternoon, after stopping at the hardware store to purchase a porch swing and calling Wyatt to ask him for help putting it up tonight, I drop Goldie off at a small bridal boutique in town. Since Goldie doesn’t have any pumped breast milk or bottles at home, I sit in the truck a few parking spots to the side of the boutique, leaving it running for the heat as I hold Lily while she sleeps. There’s a pit in my stomach when I lean an elbow against my door and bring my phone to my ear.
My sister picks up on the fifth ring before it goes to voicemail. “Davis?”
It’s almost shocking to hear her low voice after so long. We’ve only texted sporadically since we last saw each other at Dad’s funeral. Even then, she was only in town for the day, flying back to Michigan the same night.
I try to force some enthusiasm into my voice. “Amanda, hey.”
After a beat, she sighs and asks with a hint of annoyance, “Is something wrong?” It’s a fair question since every phone call in the last three or four years has been to relay bad news about Dad’s health.
“No, no. It’s something right for once.” The pit in my stomach slowly fades as I look at Lily, her slight weight a comfort on my chest. “I’m getting married.”
“You are?” There’s an unmistakable note of surprise in her voice. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat, already knowing what she’s going to say, praying I’m wrong. “I was hoping you could fly in for the wedding. Maybe stay a night or two to catch up.”
Amanda sighs again, and I imagine her pacing the hallway at the hospital where she works as a radiologist, ready to be done with the conversation so she can get back to work. “When’s the wedding?”
I slump lower in my seat to get more comfortable. “Thursday.”
Her surprise grows, though there’s an edge to it. “Thursday? This Thursday? I didn’t even know you were dating anyone.”
Of course, she wouldn’t. Neither of us is all that involved in each other’s lives, and the last time I went to Michigan, about five years ago, we only met for dinner. She showed me where she worked but didn’t invite me to her home or to meet any of her friends. Her colleagues were surprised by my thicker southern accent, considering hers was all but gone except when she said certain words, likefiveandoil.
Amanda doesn’t sound too torn up about it when she says, “I don’t think I can take time off on such short notice.”
“I’d appreciate it if you could try so you can meet your niece.”
A door shuts in the background, muffling the noise of the people and machines around her. “You have a daughter? Since when?”
“Since about six weeks ago.” I smile, my heart swelling with pride.
“You had nine months to tell me you were going to have a baby with someone I didn’t even know you were dating, and I’m just now hearing about it?” I can’t tell if she’s hurt or pissed.
I brace myself, unwilling to lie to my sister, but already knowing how she’s going to react when I tell her, “We didn’t exactly date…and”—I hate saying this out loud—“the baby’s not mine, biologically, but she is my daughter.”
