Page 59 of Wild For You
“Too bad you’re already in one. And remember, I wasn’t either.”
I’d cursed the entire way home, because I knew he was right. At first, I was okay with dipping my toes into the thought pool of being serious with someone. Then, Kelsey got sick, and taking care of her made me realize—I wasall in. Even before I went to the drugstore and made that fateful purchase while she slept in my bed. Andthen, when the baby was added to the mix, I decided I never wanted Kelsey out of my sight.
Rory was going to flip out when she found out, but I was almost past the point of caring.
Autumn let me know when Rory and Kelsey left the theater, and I began setting up dinner. I wanted to show Kelsey that I was more than just a farmer or a billionaire.
I enlisted Roman and his mom for help setting up the back deck, since the last thing I needed was to fall off the ladder when I wasn’t fully healed, and I worried it would be too much at first, but the moment Kelsey walked out through the sliding glass door, and her face showed nothing but awe at the setup, I threw caution to the wind. I didn’t even care if the steaks burned on the grill as I kissed her.
My cock was already hard as stone. And I cursed the jeans I wore, because the basketball shorts I usually lounged in wouldn’t have been cutting my circulation off like the denim was.
“You know, I’m usually all for breaking rules,” she said, running her hands up my chest, and I nearly purred like a fucking cat beneath her touch. “But I’m starving.”
Her stomach chose that moment to make a noise that reminded me of a tiger’s roar.
“Well, let’s get you two fed. I cooked one of the steaks a bit longer for you.”
“You did?” Her head tilted in confusion.
“Yep, one of the baby books says not to eat anything undercooked. So it’s well-done.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, her eyes looking a little glassy even with the smile on her lips.
I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “You’re welcome. Help yourself to everything else. There’s a salad in the bowl and succotash in the covered dish.”
As I went back to the grill, I looked over my shoulder when she called over, “Wow. This looks amazing.”
She lifted the cover to the dish, and her eyes widened. I made enough to feed a small army, but I was a growing boy, as my mom still liked to say at every Sunday dinner. And I suspected Kelsey was going to eat more than she expected, since the doctor had given her a sample of an anti-nausea medication while we were there this morning.
I plated the steaks and brought them over, being careful not to put too much weight on me braced knee, and set her nearly charred piece in front of her. Kelsey glanced up at me with the softest smile and a sheen in her eyes once again.
“This was really sweet of you, Andrew.”
I gave her a grin and sat, waiting for her to dish out her sides first before getting my own. Not ten minutes in and Kelsey had already finished her steak and succotash and was now filling her entire plate with salad.
“I picked up your medicine at the pharmacy on my way home,” I tell her, and her fork stops halfway to her open mouth as she looks at me with wide eyes.
“Oh my gosh, I completely forgot. Thank you. I always thought pregnancy brain was something made up, but I’m beginning to realize it’s not.”
“Oh, it’s definitely real. I remember Colton telling me that Autumn stood in the middle of Chuck’s Grocery for an hour, completely inconsolable, because she had forgotten why she stopped there in the first place.”
“No,” she said in shock. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. True story.” Done with the small talk, I pushed forward to what I really wanted to talk to her about. “So, tell me, how are you feeling about the baby? Truthfully.”
Kelsey stared at me across the table as she pointed her fork at me. “You know, I was terrified at first. Being a mother had never been on my radar. I mean, look at the fine example I have. But after seeing it in the ultrasound and hearing its heartbeat, I’m excited.” Her face scrunched. “Although I hate calling him or her an it.”
I chuckled. “I’m glad. Maybe ‘them’?” I suggested.
“I just hope I don’t screw them up,” she tried out, then nodded. “Better.” After another bite of salad, she pondered aloud, “What if being a terrible parent is genetic?”
“You won’t be, Kelsey.” I laughed as I grabbed the beer I had with me while I was grilling and took a hearty sip.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because, first, look at how well you took care of me. I acted like a child 99 percent of the time, and you did great.”
“You did not.” She giggled.
