Page 13 of It All Began at Dixieland

She shoves me away with a soft smile. “Bring me back an iced coffee!”

Hands in the pockets of my ridiculously tight dark jeans, I meander around the ballroom in Lexington, Kentucky, nodding my greetings to authors and their assistants as I pass. At the opposite end of the expansive room, I come to a halt, my eyes blinking rapidly as if the image before me will suddenly change.

It’s her. Efa Blevins. The woman who haunts my days and inspires such dirty dreams at night that I wake up hard and aching. She’s laughing with another woman in front of an author table, stacking books and swag. My head tilts as I watch them, a smile coming unbidden to my lips. They are clearly well acquainted. Efa is tall, dark, and exotic. A contrast to the fair complexion and short stature of the other woman. Ying and yang.

“TACY!” Efa snaps her head up, a broad grin lighting up her entire face. A blur of bright pink sails past several tables. Efa comes out from behind the table to greet whoever it is. My mind is stuck on her answering to the name Tacy, but my body has already registered the slight bump of Efa’s middle. Heart thumping. Palms sweaty. Legs and arms tingly. She’s pregnant.

Over the pink hair, Efa glances my way, and her eyes widen comically when we lock gazes. Everyone in this ballroom, the hotel, the city, the state is forgotten. Her. Just her. She’s all I can see. I swear I can hear her sharp intake of breath even 20 feet away.

I quickly close the distance between us. Desperate for her scent, the heat of her body pressed against mine. Excited and nervous for confirmation that it’s my child causing her belly to swell deliciously. I swallow hard, my mouth watering as I wonder if her pussy will taste differently now that she’s pregnant.

My stomach somersaults when I’m close enough to notice the sheen of tears in her dark eyes. She licks her lips, a shuddering breath wracking her entire body.

“You never called.”

“Why didn’t you answer my messages?”

Efa 13.

“I don’t have your number.”

“What messages?”

I shake my head and lean back against my table, my hand resting lightly on my belly. It’s an unconscious move, but it brings me comfort. And staring at the man who lent me half his DNA to grow a person, I’m in desperate need of comfort.

“Tacy.” Mallory uses my pen name, saying it forcefully, reminding me where we are. I offer her a grateful closed mouth smile. She stares at Foster for a moment before something like recognition lights up her features. “Tacy.” She hisses, grabbing my arm and squeezing tight. Too tight. “Was Nick Forester’s naked penis inside of you?”

“No.” I glance between the two of them. Foster’s cheeks flush slightly. “This is Foster.”

“No,” Mallory argues, “this is Nick Forester. A gorgeous Godlike human male that graces the covers of many,manyromance novels, including Cyclone from Nichole Emory’sHell’s Screams MCseries! OH MY GOD!” She screams, losing all sense of discretion and decorum. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve masturbated to the image of your baby daddy?”

Foster, or Nick, uh…the dude who ejaculated inside of me, chokes on a laugh. Meanwhile, I have dropped completely to the floor, the bones in my legs having liquified. I meet Foster’s intense stare. After a beat, I give him the pregnancy announcement equivalent of jazz hands and say, “I’m pregnant.”

“I gathered,” he says, slow and measured, and I’m not quite sure what his tone means. Is he mad? Sad? Glad? Vlad…the Impaler. A nervous and slightly hysterical laugh bursts forth at the stupid joke I make in my head. Mallory, Foster, and several nibby neighbors look down at me with obvious concern.

“You impaled me. With your flesh sword,” I say and then give up altogether, sliding until I’m lying horizontal on the floor. This is better. I don’t feel dizzy down here. The carpet is surprisingly soft. I’ll just stay here.

“Uh…Mr. Stamina, I’m gonna have to ask you to come back later. The book signing is about to begin and Tacy Ellen needs a moment to…get up and prepare for her fans.” I hear Mallory attempt to usher Foster away from my table, but he ignores her, instead standing with his big, booted feet on either side of my prone body. He bends at the knees, and the move brings his crotch much, much closer to my face. Flashbacks of myself on my knees choking on his girthy cock steal my breath. My gaze snaps to his when he growls, and I’m ensnared by the desire that greets me.

“Tell me why you didn’t respond to my Facebook messages? I have to know.”

“I didn’t get any.”

On his knees, he leans down until mere inches separate our mouths. Again, the images of him fucking my tits bombard me, my clit throbbing in response. “We’ll be doing it again, baby, I promise.” I nod without thought, knowing I’ll agree to anything this man asks. His impressive body, in dark denim and tight cotton, radiates heat. The scent of his cologne infiltrates my nose. I realize in this moment, how much I’ve missed him. How I’ve yearned to be near him again. Just like this…

Well, not exactly like this. We’re drawing a crowd.

“Efa Blevins,” he whispers my name tenderly. I nod dumbly. “Of Miami University of Ohio.” My head cocks to the side; he really did try to find me. Oh damn, the hormones! Tears fill my eyes, and no matter how fast I blink they don’t dissipate. Instead, they fall down my cheeks, cascading sheets of emotion that I’m ill-equipped to handle at this moment.

“I wrote you a note!” I wail, blubbering on the floor for God and all the book signing to see. “I left my number. I wanted to see you again! But I had to urgently evacuate my bowels and I couldn’t let you hear and smell it! And you would have because there were no real doors for the bathroom! And then my mom was in so much pain and I knew I couldn’t stay, she had to get home and we left, and I hoped that you would call! But you didn’t!” I’m full-on sobbing now. I register that his capable arms are wrapped around me, and I’m cradled in his lap…I cry harder at the sweetness. “And then I found out that you left something behind in my uterus and I called that infernal hotel, and they wouldn’t give me your contact information or even reach out to you themselves! For a place that doesn’t care about the sanctity of private daily ablutions, they sure were protective of your identity! They threatened legal action if I continued to call them. All I had was your first name! And I hired a private investigator, but they haven’t found anything yet!” I seek out Mallory, noting she’s right next to me with wide eyes. She’s never seen me like this, hysterical and unguarded. Hell, I’ve never been like this before, I don’t blame her. “Do I still have to pay the investigator if I found him first?”

“Tacy.” Oh shit. I peek up at the coordinator for the event from under wet lashes. She’s clearly battling between professionalism and amusement. Her eyes are hard, but she’s biting her bottom lip to stop smiling. “Perhaps, a quick trip to the restroom is in order. I understand the…urgency to handle personal matters such as this, but we need to open the doors to the VIPs. Could you and Mr. Forester discuss yourrelationshipin private after the signing?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course. I apologize.” Despite not being that far along, nor encumbered by a large belly, it’s difficult to get off Foster’s lap and stand. More so because I don’t want to. Foster assists me to my feet, moving with the agility of a trained athlete and master of his own body. His arm wraps securely around my waist.

“We’ll be right back,” he tells her, guiding me from the ballroom. We slip down the hall. Outside the ladies room, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “Dry your tears. They’re killing me, baby.”

“Sorry.” I murmur, quite embarrassed now that the emotionally charged moment has passed.

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