Page 25 of A Baby for the Mountain Man

“I have.” I turn in time to catch him swallowing hard. “But what about you? You have a job and a home here.”

“I have a job I can do anywhere, and a place that’s less of a home and more of where I live right now.” I lift a shoulder. “Besides, I kind of like the idea of us raising our babies somewhere they can be outside all of the time.”

“It would be good for their imaginations. Not to mention, they’d be self-sufficient.”

“See, there you go. More perks I hadn’t considered.” I beam at him. “So, what do you say?”

He shakes his head before pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I say how the hell did I end up getting so lucky?”

I could ask myself the same question. And I would, but my lips are now too occupied by his.

EPILOGUE

CLIFF

The doctor’s hand shakes as he reaches for Sophie’s chart.

I keep my sight laser-focused on him while he stumbles over the questions that have become standard since we arrived at the hospital early this morning.

“You’re a brave lady.” He tilts his head at the chart. “Most moms of twins schedule a C-section. Especially at your age.”

I grit my teeth together. “You told us it was safe.”

Never mind the comment about her age. The fact that they call moms-to-be over thirty geriatric is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.

“I—I did. It is. Just as long as Mom and the kids are all doing okay. Which they are. They are.” He gulps loudly and faces Sophie. “Wha—how far apart are your contractions?”

Sophie rubs a hand over her smocked belly. “Maybe every three or four minutes or so.”

“Three minutes and twenty-nine seconds,” I say, sparing a glance at my watch to confirm.

He nods, and spares me a glance, before turning back to the chart. “And when—wh—how long are they lasting?”

“They’re not too bad.”

I clear my throat, but the words still come out sharp. “The last one was forty-four seconds.”

“H—how would you rate your pain?”

“How many times are you going to ask these damn questions?” I pound my fist on the overbed table, rattling Sophie’s oversized cup of ice. “Can’t you see that she’s in a lot of pain? You’re doing jack shit to help her.”

“Cliff,” Sophie says sternly, but gently.

I turn and find her tired, but still breathtakingly beautiful face glaring daggers at me. That all-too-familiar jolt of panic flares inside of me. Damn, but I love this woman. More than I ever thought I could love another person.

Seeing her like this as she brings our children into the world…

If I could trade places with her and take all of the pain and discomfort, I’d do it. It wouldn’t even take a heartbeat.

But right now the love of my life is giving me a silent—but unmistakable—look saying I need to stop acting like an ogre and let the doctor finish the exam.

So I do. Only because it’s what she wants.

Still flustered as he finishes, the doctor checks in with the nurse, and promises to return shortly with the anesthesiologist. He practically makes the sound of tires burning rubber as he disappears from the room.

Sophie sighs and shakes her head. “You really have to stop doing that.”

“I know, I know.” I run a hand over my beard. “You can answer the questions yourself. You don’t need me to do it.”

---