Page 25 of Upshot

I managed to get the one bathroom upstairs working. I say a prayer the hot water tank holds out. Though, after just that little bit of sparing with Brontë, a cold one might be better.

I had to get out of that hotel room. I was starting to treat John Wayne like a roommate. The room at the end of the hall upstairs has a comfy mattress I bought yesterday. My suitcase sits open on the floor. There’s a television that will be great once I get the satellite hooked up to it. Right now, it’s just a glorified panthanger.

Yay, home sweet home. How did I go from a millionaire with a plush condo in California to a mattress in a torn-up mess in Texas?

* * *

BRONTË

Why am I so nervous to go to a doctor’s appointment with Rand? It would be so much easier to hate him.

I stormed over to his new house last night after finding out about it from one of the neighbors. It was my full intention to rip him a new asshole.

Except, when I threw open the door in as dramatic a fashion as possible, he looked so good. His hair was a mess, there was dirt on his face, and he was wearing a flannel shirt. I wanted to jump on him like a pogo stick on steroids.

“B? Your baby daddy is here,” Eliot screams up the stairs. Why is she even here? I snatch up my purse and flounce down the stairs.

I almost trip over my own feet when I see Rand at the bottom. He’s in a fitted polo that stretches across his hard pecs, a pair of jeans with buttons begging for me to open them with my teeth, and he smells amazingly clean. We could skip this doctor thing, go back upstairs, and get very dirty. Did I just growl? Why is Rand looking at Eliot in terror?

“Yeah, you might want to keep some holy water close. She’s been just lovely lately. I blame the raging hormones,” Eliot says.

“Why are you here?”

“To take you to the doctor?” Rand asks.

“Not you, the other one.”

“To give Mom and Dad some paperwork. I don’t need a reason to visit, demon sister.” I roll my eyes at her. “Love you.” She kisses me on the cheek before wandering off to the living room. She’s so weird.

I stomp out of the house. Rand follows me, racing ahead to open my door. Why does he also have to be a gentleman? Sexy, sweet, and rich. It’s a shag trifecta. Nope. Don’t even think about naked Rand. I can conquer these horny hormones.

“Do you need something to eat before we get on the road?” he asks.

“I had something, but that doesn’t mean I won’t insist on a second breakfast after the appointment.”

“What do you eat for second breakfast? Is it like brunch?”

“Pretty much. I’m still trying to make up for missing so many meals the first trimester, I guess.”

“Were you sick?” he asks quietly.

“Oh god, it was horrible. I threw up toast like it was a five-course meal. I decided that, since I couldn’t exactly continue modeling while bent over a trash can, I’d move home and live on my parent’s crackers and ginger ale instead of mine.”

Rand is deathly silent. Like, is he even still breathing, silent. I twist in my seat so I can see him better. His mournful gaze lands on mine. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. His eyes don’t seem to hide much. It’s one of the things I like about him. I’ve seen playful, lustful, and tired, but I’ve never seen them look this sad.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He refocuses on the road, but I can see the white in his knuckles where he’s strangling the steering wheel.

“Why? You didn’t even know about it. What would you have done?”

“I could have held your hair back, changed your sheets, brought you soup. I don’t know,” he answers.

“Okay.” Wow, I didn’t think hearing about my daily upchucking would upset him so much. I figure most men would do anything to avoid a barfing woman. “Well, I’m a chicken noodle fan, the clean sheets are in a closet in the hall, and there are extra hair ties in the top drawer of the bathroom. Just in case.”

“Good to know.” Rand smiles over at me. I’m starting to think he’s not like most men. Or maybe he is, and I’ve just been taking up with the wrong ones. Good news, little one. Dad might be okay after all.

ten

BRONTË

---