Page 6 of The Billionaire's Bagpipes

He looks confused and motions for me to go back to his table.

“Really?” I ask, wishing I could kick his shin myself.

“I might be able to help you.”

CHAPTER6

Stirling

Istand while she lowers herself back to the bench seat, then walk around the table to my spot, making sure I sit far enough that any temptation to touch her again would look too weird to actually try.

“How far along are you?”

“Thirty-two weeks.”

“Your cravings are supposed to have ended by now.” I don’t know why I feel I have to challenge her, but I’m pissed off that I couldn’t just let her walk away.

“Tell these two. Every morning I wake up and hope I’ve hit that milestone.” She mindlessly rubs that beautiful bread basket of a belly.

“Where do you live?” I ask.

“Six blocks east of here. In The Reflection.”

It’s a nice building. Iconic in the city for the way it reflects nature back to the street, as if trying to hide itself in the city landscape.Whatever she does for work, she must be on top of her field. Attractive and intelligent. And seven months pregnant. What the hell am I doing?

“When does this clam smoothie craving usually start?”

“Around four o’clock most days.”

It’s not like I have anything else to do or anywhere else to be. I’m a man with enough money to never have to work again and no purpose to get me up before noon.

“Your hand cream. Skin So Soft?” I ask, catching a whiff again.

“How did you know?”

I shrug. “It’s the one my mother uses.”

“Mine, too. She was an Avon Lady when I was a kid. Skin So Soft is like the comfort food of hand lotion, you know?”

I place my hand out, palm up, a silent request. She understands and places her loose fist on my palm. I bring it to my face and inhale the scent of childhood.

“Comfort food of hand lotion,” I repeat. “That’s an excellent way to put it.”

I have an overwhelming urge to kiss her knuckles, so release her hand before I freak her the fuck out.

“Why were you asking where I live and when I have my craving?”

“Maybe I can help you. I can try making a blend that you can freeze, so you can thaw a serving a day …”

“Oh my god, I love you! Thank you so much. I can pay you. I’m happy to pay you. Just tell me what you need.” She pulls her phone from her pocket. “Tell me where to transfer the money and how much.”

“I don’t need money from you. Just give me your address and your phone number so I can get in touch tomorrow.”

We exchange phones and add our contact details.

Her energy has done a one-eighty and I worry she might be too excited for a woman meant to be on bedrest.

“What do you need? What should I pick up?” she asks.

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