Page 15 of It All Began at Dixieland

“Before you found out about the baby, had you tried to find me?” She nods, her eyes welling with tears. I lean forward and press my lips to each eyelid, tasting the salt of her sadness. “My first message to you was the next afternoon. Then a week later, and another week after that. I didn’t want to harass you, but I desperately wanted to see you again. Speak to you. Confirm that everything I felt wasn’t just my imagination.” I wiggle on the bed, eliminating the scant distance between us, until we are pressed together chest to toe. “I knew with absolute certainty when I was 12 years old that I would be a paratrooper in the United States Army. I knew the moment I hit the ground and my knees shattered that my time living my dream was over. I knew that I would do anything my little sister asked of me, including posing mostly naked for the cover of romance novels. And I knew the moment I met you that you were my new dream. And everything I have ever done in my life has brought me to this moment, to you. To our baby.”

She’s a blubbering mess, so I hold her tight until she cries herself out. “I knew…I knew…”, she begins haltingly, “I knew the moment I saw you that I wanted to ride your dick with my hand in the air screaming Yee-haw!”

I bury my face in her hair and let out a boisterous laugh. Tension drains from my body, and I know we’re gonna be just fine. “You were so pretty that night, taking my dick like a champ, I was disappointed I didn’t have my cowboy hat for you to wear!”

A few minutes later, we sober enough to speak again. “We’re having a baby.” I nod when she points out the obvious, though I smile at her wistful tone. “I don’t even have your phone number or know your last name or where you live.”

I shrug as best I can laying down. “West Lafayette, Indiana. And Nichols.” Smirking, I add, “Efa Nichols. Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” She lifts her left hand and exaggeratedly inspects her fingers.

“Doesn’t have a ring yet. And doesn’t need one anytime soon. Let’s figure out the basics first before we dive into legal proceedings.”

I snort, “Legal proceedings. How romantic.”

Efa 15.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We just found each other again, I’d hate to lose you because of the fuckery of my friends.” I force a laugh to hide how serious I am. My Witches Brewed is an interesting group of ladies. Crazy. They’re bat shit crazy, and I love them with all my heart. However, I think I love Foster more…and I don’t want him to run away screaming in fear for his life after meeting them.

I mentally shake myself. My bitches are fucking awesome. If he can’t handle them, he isn’t the right guy for me.

God, it’s me Efa. Please let him handle them. I want him to be the right guy for me. The only guy for me. From now until forever. I would apologize for being greedy, but you created him, so technically it’s your fault. Should have made him less spectacular. Just saying. *Cough, cough,overachiever, cough, cough*

“Who are you having a conversation with?” Foster asks, pulling me up short in the lobby of the hotel.

“Uh…” Was I speaking out loud?

“Your lips were moving, and you were doing that neck thing when someone is putting someone else in their place.” My cheeks burn hotter than the center of the earth. How very astute of him to notice.

“Just…uh…working out a plot line for a new book.”

“Sure.” He doesn’t believe me because he knows me so well already, and I’m a horrible liar, but mostly the knowing me thing. “And to answer your question, I am more than ready to meet the people who are important to you.” I don’t stop the sappy smile, that was too sweet. “Besides, my sister will be there too.” My shoulders deflate and my smile loses its luster at the reminder. I’m excited to meet his sister, don’t get me wrong. She’s going to be an auntie to our little one. But she’s important to him, and I don’t want to fuck it up. By like speaking or breathing or accidentally farting or something. Foster snags me around the waist and brings me to his chest. I bury my face against his sternum and purr like a kitten when he kisses the top of my head and rubs my lower back. “Nothing to worry about, baby. I promise. Ain’t a force on earth that’s keeping me from what’s mine.”

“Oh?” I arch my neck to look him in the eye, my eyebrow cocked in challenge. “And what is yours?”

“You.” He growls, dipping his head and taking my lips in a passionate kiss. The sounds of the lobby disappear, the people fade into nothing as he takes control of my mouth, demanding my submission and relishing his victory. I’m his. No point in arguing. The last several months have been…absolute shit. He dug beneath my skin and made his home in my heart that first night. Logically, I should be worried, but I’ve never felt such certainty about anything in my life. His hands move to my lower belly, where he cups the slight swelling. Breaking the kiss, he rests his forehead against mine and sighs happily. “And the little one.”

“Good answer,” I murmur in a voice usually associated with a sex-phone operator. Clearing my throat, I push back from him, giving me a fighting chance of regaining my composure. And not shoving him into the nearest elevator for naked sex things. He smirks, obviously knowing how he affects me, and judging by the tent of his jeans, he’s not immune to me.

Hand in hand we enter the breakfast area of the hotel. It takes me 0.5 seconds to spot my Witches. It’s not hard since they’re standing on their seats, pretending to make out with themselves, and humming porn music. Foster squeezes my hand in support, gives me a blinding smile and a wink, then he dives in. God bless him.

“Ladies. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“He’s real. You weren’t lying out of your perky ass, Mallory. She knows Cyclone,” Amanda whispers, her brown eyes startlingly wide as she looks him up and down.

“Amanda, right?” Foster steps forward, his hand extended for a shake.

“He knows my name.” I chuckle at her reaction, but I’m not at all surprised. Mallory grabs Amanda’s hand and places it in Foster’s. He pumps up and down twice before releasing it and pivoting to the next one.

Kim gawks at him, her mouth wide open; I can see her tonsils. With a snort, Mal helps her as well.

Sarah, normally the quiet one, stutters for a second before blurting, “Sometimes I imagine your picture from the cover ofLibationswhen my husband and I have sex.”

Foster’s hand begins to drop in surprise, but he rallies quickly. “Thank you?”

“I love my husband. We’ve been married for many years. But he doesn’t have all the…the…where is your neck tattoo?” Sarah ignores personal space bubbles and practically climbs Foster in search of any ink. Foster laughs good-naturedly, gripping her by the waist and placing her on her feet a couple feet away. He holds out his arm for me and I slide under it, resting my head on his chest.

“Actually, I don’t have any tattoos. They are added digitally.”

All three women gasp like scandalized southern belles, dramatically leaning on one another as they process this unwanted news. Mallory and I snicker, used to their behavior. They have been with me since the beginning. Amanda was one of the first people to reach out to me on social media about a year after I started writing. She brought her sister and best friend into the mix, and they have become invaluable to me over the years. Not just as beta readers, but as my friends.

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