Page 14 of Knocked Up in Alaska

The man in question muttered, “Fuck,” and took a long drink of beer.

“Also Trace.”

The big man grinned at his wife. “You think I won’t shoot you, baby? I’ll shoot you. But don’t worry, I’ll make it all better.” He winked.

She smiled sweetly. “We’ll see.”

“Final pick?” Ford prompted.

Izzy studied the men at the table. After a moment, she replied, “You, Ford.”

Beside her, Lilah heard him let out a low groan, but Wing leaped out of his chair and threw his arms up like the home team just scored a field goal. “Holy shit, can I call us winners right now? Dude’s like, American Sniper. Ex-Special Forces, weapons expert.” He leaned across the table to high five Mad. “Sorry, girls, you’re going down.”

Bridget didn’t look worried, and Izzy still smiled her cagey smile. Again, she repeated, “We’ll see.”

Lilah glanced at Ford. “Do paintball rounds hurt?”

He gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “You won’t feel a thing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And for the record, Izzy’s a diabolical genius.”

Hmm. What made him say that? Her phone timer chimed, causing her to jump. She quickly silenced it and gathered up her knitting. “My break’s over.”

Ford lay a restraining hand on her leg, just above her knee. “Take five more minutes. Finish your water.”

The warm weight of his palm seeped through her jeans, setting off involuntary quivers in her thigh muscles. Good Lord. Could he feel them? Heat rushed to her face. Desperately, she chugged her water.

Apparently, the desperation showed, because Ford turned to her, brows low over concerned eyes. The hand on her leg rubbed gently back and forth. “You okay?”

Uh-uh. She was so not okay, and if he kept moving his hand on her thigh like that, she was going to dissolve into a puddle at his feet. To avoid that humiliating outcome, she bounced out of her seat, hoping she didn’t look as jittery as she felt. “I’m good. Just restless. I guess the baby wants action.” She slipped her tote over her arm, eased past Archer, and made her away over to stand in the gap between the tables. “Can I bring anybody anything?”

“Bring your teammates some knitting needles and yarn,” Wing said, then placed both hands on her waist and spoke to her belly. “Hey in there. Your auntie Izzy and auntie Bridgie are going to knit you some real nice booties.”

Now that her pregnancy was no longer a secret, she’d started dressing more comfortably for the season and her fluctuating body temperature. Her baby bump showed clearly beneath the fitted, light blue T-shirt she wore. And said bump, as if somehow sensing the new freedom, seemed to grow exponentially every day. All of the sudden people felt weirdly entitled to rub her swelling stomach, talk to her belly, and generally treat her body like public property. It was startling enough when someone she’d known all her life did it, like Wing, and downright embarrassing when a stranger took the same liberties.

“Hands off.” A deep voice growled from directly behind her. Ford, she realized, moving so quickly and silently she hadn’t even registered him leaving his seat.

Whoosh. In swept the heat again, and tingles galore, especially intense where their bodies made contact—her shoulder blades against his chest, her backside to his… She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

When she opened them, she caught Bridget and Izzy exchanging a glance full of something she couldn’t interpret.

“Hey. No offense.” Wing stood now, too, his hands up by his shoulders as if someone held him at gunpoint. “I didn’t mean anything. Shit, man, Lilah’s like a little sister to me. I was just trying to be funny.”

“It’s inappropriate,” Ford said firmly, and she had to actively fight a shiver of reaction brought on by his low, firm voice. Or maybe the shiver stemmed from the fact that he splayed his hand in front of her belly like a blockade.

“My employees aren’t here to be manhandled,” he went on. “If you put your mitts on her in a way you wouldn’t put them on me or Silent Mike, you’ve put your mitts in the wrong place. Understood?”

“Yeah.” Wing took a step back, eyes wary like he’d watch a large, unpredictable dog. “I got it. Good rule.”

“Great. Glad we’re crystal clear on…”

The baby chose that moment to move. Impulsively, she flattened his hand to the spot.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Before she could explain, the flutter came again, and…

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