He snorts, and the tea bag slips from his fingers and plops onto the floor. I can see his shoulders shaking as he bends to pick it up. When he stands, he’s schooled his face, though a muscle beside his lip is twitching.
“A standard-sized vagina? What does that even mean?”
I huff. “Well, Holly said she’d use a large turkey baster to inseminate me. I mean, I know I don’t have a beaver-sized hole,” I tell him, holding up my pinky finger, “but now I’m wondering if I’m normal. Down there.”
Reno hands me the cup and then places his elbows on the countertop beside me, burying his head in his hands. His shoulders are shaking again.
I take a sip of the tea—it’s actually pretty good—and wait for him to finish. When he does, not even bothering to conceal his wide grin this time, he stands between my legs again.
“Let me assure you, dream girl, you have an absolutely perfect pussy, but I wouldn’t call it standard. It’s extraordinary.”
My lips tug up on one side. “You think my pussy is extraordinary?”
Reno presses a kiss to my lips. “Baby, it is absolutely exceptional.”Kiss.“Pink.”Kiss.“Tight as fuck.”Kiss.“And delicious.”
“So in the grand scheme of things, you’d describe it as not too shabby?”
My man drops to his knees and reaches for the waistband of my leggings. “Lie back and relax, Juliette, and I’ll remind you exactly how much Ilove it.”
Later that night, I’m sitting up in Reno’s bed. The covers are black and gray, but he let me add a few red throw pillows to give it some pizzazz. One of those pillows is on my thighs, boosting my laptop so I can comfortably type.
“Whatcha writing?” Reno asks as he comes into the room.
“About a woman who’s worried her vagina isn’t standard,” I say airily. “But her man reassures her it’s…” I pretend to check my notes and then look at him over my red-framed glasses. “Extraordinary.”
“Hmmm, sounds vaguely familiar,” he quips. “I forgot to tell you, I stopped by your house while you were at dinner and picked up your mail.”
He hands me a small stack, and I flip through. It’s all junk mail and sales papers until I get to a hot-pink envelope.
“Awww, this is from my author friend, AK Landow. She must have sent me a card,” I say sliding my finger beneath the flap. “I told her about the babies, but she promised to keep it on the down low until we make it public.”
I pull the card out. It feels thick. Maybe it’s one of those that plays music. Or makes fart noises. You never know with her.
When I open it, I let out a shriek as something shiny shoots into the air and then rains down all around me. Like… confetti?
“What the fuck?” Reno shouts, rushing over and climbing onto the bed in a panic. He swipes at my shoulders and hair before picking up one of the tiny metallic scraps. He studies it for a long moment. “Is this a dick?”
I scoop up a handful and see that they are indeed tiny penis cutouts, and I burst out laughing. I’m going to be picking cocks out of my hair for weeks.
After almost an hour of sweeping and vacuuming confetti—as well as cursing AK—we finally crawl back into bed. Reno wraps himself around me from behind and places a hand on my belly.
I speak into the darkness, nuzzling my butt back against him. “I think since my family already knows about the pregnancy, there’s really no need in waiting until I’m twelve weeks to tell them we’re together.”
“Agreed,” Reno says against the back of my neck. “Maybe we can talk to them after the game this week? Ma and Gramps too.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say.
But you know what they say about the best laid plans…
Chapter 43
Goober and gator food
“Goodtoseeyou,man,” Marcus says, smacking me on the back as we bro-hug.
“You too,” I say before giving the same attention to Lane.
The Brewers are playing my old team tomorrow, and my two favorite buddies from the Raptors came to Pine Tree Falls a day early so we could catch up. We take seats at a table in the local bar and grill, The Tipsy Bulldog. It’s named after the local high school mascot, which seems to be a thing here. There’s also Bulldog Hotel, Bulldog Cleaners, and The Big Dawg Diner.
