Page 45 of Knocked Up in Alaska

“I know. I have them, occasionally. When are you getting preggers, Iz? I’ll hold all my breastfeeding and related questions for you.”

Izzy offered them a Mona Lisa smile. “Well, actually…”

“Oh. My. God.” Bridget leaped to her feet. “Are you serious?”

Izzy nodded and broke into a full-wattage smile. “Baby Shayla’s going to have a little cousin to boss around in, oh, about eight months. We just found out and weren’t going to say anything yet because it’s too early, but the moment seemed so, so…”

“Perfect,” Lilah said, touched Izzy’s arm before shifting drowsy Shayla away from her breast. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you and Trace.”

“You guys work fast,” Bridget said. “Is it too soon for a gender reveal?”

“That takes another few months. Put your bets in at The Goose. We’ll see if Aunt Bridget wins big again.”

“I had an inside track with this one,” she said mysteriously as she smiled down at Shayla.

A knock came from the other side of the door. “I want to see my niece,” Trace called. “Archer wants to meet his future niece but has agreed to take a number since he’s not an official uncle yet. I think Wing just wants to size the damn sweater he’s knitting.”

“One sec,” Izzy called and looked questioningly at Lilah.

“She’s done,” Lilah replied. Bridget extended her arms, opened and closed her hands in a gimme motion. She transferred the baby to Aunt Bridget and then buttoned her pajama top. Part of her wished for a minute to run a brush through her hair and maybe put on a little mascara, but she let it go. Those efforts were directed at one man in particular, and he’d already seen her at pretty much her least alluring point ever, which might explain his abrupt departure from the clinic earlier in the evening. Smooth hair and dramatic lashes weren’t likely to erase that image from his mind anytime soon. Even knowing she didn’t look her best, her heart skipped like an excited schoolgirl at the prospect of seeing him. “I’m ready.”

Izzy crossed to open the door. “Come in,” she said to the guys. They stepped into the room, looking big and awkward amidst the scatter of baby gear. Wing and Trace surrounded Bridget. Archer crossed to her, bent, and kissed her cheek. “How’s Mom?”

Well, Archer, I’m sitting on a pad the size of a pool raft, shoved in the biggest pair of granny panties I’ve ever worn, my boobs are so swollen they need their own zip codes, and my personal parts feel like I gave birth to a football-sized pinecone. “I’m good. Thanks for asking.” Craning her neck, she glanced toward the door, where nobody loitered. Her skipping heart slowed to a disappointed shuffle. “Where’s Ford?”

Archer crouched so she didn’t have to stare up at him and rested a hand on her shoulder. “He had some kind of personal emergency.”

Her heart stalled. Without realizing she’d moved, she watched her hand clasp Archer’s arm. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine.” Archer’s lips lifted into a quick, reassuring smile. “It wasn’t a medical emergency. I don’t have the details, but Mad flew him to Anchorage. They’ll be back later tonight.”

“Oh. That’s”—she didn’t know what it was—“odd.” Hadn’t he and Mad just flown to Juneau yesterday? Of course, Mad flew to Juneau and Anchorage all the time, for business and for…pleasure. Good Lord, was Ford hooking up with a flight attendant? Stung beyond reason at the thought, she let go of Archer and clasped her hands together in her lap. “Well, I guess I’ll see him tomorrow.” Would she? “Or…soon,” she amended, feeling lame and obvious.

Archer offered her another smile, this one cryptic and ironic. “I’d put money on it.”

Across the room, Bridget wrinkled her nose and stepped back from Trace and Wing. “What’s that smell?”

Lilah held out her arms. “Do I need to change her?”

Bridget shook her head. “No. It’s not the baby.” She sniffed Trace. “It’s you.” Then did the same to Wing. “And you. What the hell have you been smoking?”

“Cigars.” Wing reached into the pocket of the brown plaid flannel shirt he wore over a T-shirt and jeans and pulled several out. “Want one?”

“No, thank you.” She turned away when Wing wagged them at her and bounce-walked the baby over to the window to peer out at the star-strewn sky. “I’d just as soon lick a toilet.”

Izzy approached them, armed with a bottle of Febreze.

“Ah, geez, don’t—” Wing managed before he and Trace found themselves surrounded by a lavender-scented cloud. When the mist cleared, Izzy wrapped an arm around Trace’s waist. “I hope you didn’t smoke those in the house.”

He tucked her close and kissed the top of her head. “Please. My mother raised me right.” Turning to Bridget, he said, “Hand her over, Babyhog.”

She bounce-walked to Trace and transferred the baby to his waiting arms, then stood back and laughed. Lilah did, too, taking in the sight of her daughter snuggled by her massive uncle.

He straightened to his full six foot, five inches and scowled. “What’s so funny?”

“The contrast,” Lilah answered, indicating the baby. “She’s so small, and you’re so big. It looks like you’re holding a doll.”

His lips quirked into a half smile. “She is a doll. Aren’t you, sweetheart? You’re a perfect little doll.”

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