by Ali Parker
She loved the new challenges and I loved hearing all the gossip and drama about the club. Now that I was removed from it, I could enjoy it rather than agonize over it.
“Max is good.” Janie sighed. “So good. He’s taking me out for dinner and dancing tomorrow.”
“Ooh, dancing you say?”
“I don’t know what to wear.”
I laughed. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”
“Shush. I’ll figure it out. You’ve seen my dress collection.”
“I’ve worn most of it.”
“True.” Janie was quiet for a minute while I drizzled a bit more maple-brown sugar glaze over the pork and turned the oven on to broil. I slid the pan back in for one last minute to get the outside all crispy and sweet. Janie cleared her throat. “Is he there yet?”
“No, Janie.”
“How are you going to tell him?”
“I have a little something planned.”
“You’re seriously not going to tell me?”
Chuckling, I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see me. “I’ll tell you after.”
“Fine.”
“Don’t be a sourpuss about it. You found out before he did. That has to count for something, right?”
“I guess.”
I bent down and peered through the glass window of the oven at the sauce bubbling on top of the cut of meat. My mouth started to water. “I wish you were here, Janie.”
“So do I, Pipes. Two more weeks and then we’ll have ten uninterrupted days together.”
“I can’t wait. Neither can Boone. I haven’t broken the news to him that you’re seeing someone else.”
“Poor bastard. It’s all right. I’ll still give him a kiss on the cheek.”
“He’ll be thrilled.”
Janie giggled. “All right. Well, I’m going to let you go, Pipes. Good luck. Say hello to Wyatt for me. And please, for the love of God, call me later tonight and tell me how it all went.”
“I’ll call you in less than an hour. Let’s be real. I won’t be able to contain it.”
Janie squealed gleefully. “Okay. Awesome. Love you, babe!”
“Love you too.”
She hung up first. Within fifteen seconds, the patio door slid open and Wyatt strode in.
He was dripping in sweat. His tanned skin was beaded with shiny droplets of moisture and he dragged his forearm across his forehead to wipe it away before it ran into his eyes. He’d been working tirelessly out on the ranch all day with Boone and Dodge, and I’d slipped in after finishing my work on the property about two hours ago to shower and start dinner. The ranch hands had likely retired to their bunkhouse to wash up, too.
Wyatt crossed the kitchen and tugged the oven open. “Wife of mine, you are a saint. That looks delicious.”
“You’d better wash up, then, because it’ll be done in thirty seconds.”
He slapped my ass, gave me a salty kiss, and made for the stairs. “I need ten minutes.”
Wyatt vanished up the stairs and I had enough time to set the table out on the porch for four. Even though we hadn’t invited the ranch hands for dinner, it was an inevitable truth that they would show up with growling bellies and puppy-dog eyes, and even though I’d lived here for a year and a half, I still found it impossible to say no to them.
Wyatt returned in eight minutes with wet hair pushed back. He looked sexy. I told him so. He flashed me a devilish white smile and pulled me up against him. “So do you.”
I swatted at him before pushing him to the stove. “Dig in. We’ll bring our plates and sit outside.”
Wyatt filled his plate and mine. He handed mine to me and we moved out onto the porch. The evening was hot, but the shade offered by the covered porch was pleasant. The hills were turning gold from the lack of rain we’d had this summer, and bees buzzed lazily beneath the porch in the bushes below, landing on soft pink petals to get drunk on their nectar.
Wyatt tucked into his seat across from me. He picked up his knife and fork and looked over at me as I draped my napkin over my lap.
“Oh, shoot,” I said.
“What’s up?”
“I forgot to get my own cutlery from the drawer.”
Wyatt stood. His chair slid across the wood. He set his cutlery down. “Sit tight. I’ll get it for you.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
He moved to the sliding doors and stepped through them. I stood soundlessly and stood in the opening, watching him go to the cutlery drawer. He pulled it open and I heard the metal clatter. Then he froze, his hand still lingering on the handle, and stared down at what I’d left in the drawer.
I waited. He didn’t move.
Seconds passed.
Ten.
Twenty.
Twenty-five.
Then slowly, like he was afraid of breaking it, he reached into the drawer and picked up the little white stick laying upon a bed of pink and blue tissue paper. He lifted it up to squint down at it, and I noticed the way his hand shook.
He braced himself on the counter.
I moved into the kitchen to stand behind him and put my hand between his shoulder blades. “You’re going to be a daddy, Wyatt.”
“Is this real?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I promise.”
He sucked in a shaky breath. Then in a flourish, he dropped the test on the counter, spun toward me, gathered me up in his arms, and spun me in a circle. Booming laughter exploded out of him, and when he set me down, the corner of his eyes were wet, and his cheeks were flushed. He pressed a hand to his forehead in disbelief.
“This is amazing, Piper. We’re… we’re going to be parents.”
I nodded as tears sprang to life in my eyes. I gazed at him, at the crow’s feet in the corners of his eyes from years of unabashed laughter, at his smile lines, at his clean-shaven sharp jaw that he rocked only in the hot summer months, and I wondered what our baby would look like.
He or she would have dark eyes. That was for sure.
“Have you told your parents yet?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I only told Janie because I wanted help planning how I was going to surprise you. I was overwhelmed. Keeping the secret was almost impossible.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since this morning.”
“That’s not very long.” He laughed.
“I know.” I didn’t know how far along I was. But it didn’t matter. This was ours. He or she was ours.
“We’ll call the doctor tomorrow and make an appointment. What will you need? Prenatals, right? And we’ll reduce your work on the ranch. Get you out there only in the morning when it’s cool to do the easy stuff.”
“I’m pregnant, Wyatt. I’m not a lame horse.”
He laughed again. “You’re my pregnant wife. That’s what you are. And you’re my number one priority for the next nine months.”
“Aren’t I always your number one priority?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” I said, stretching to the tips of my toes to give him a kiss. He pulled me in tight. The kiss stretched on until my stomach growled. I pulled away and tugged at his shirt. “Come on. Let’s eat.”
“Let’s.”
We went back outside and took up our chairs. When we took our first bites, Boone and Dodge came out of their outbuilding. They called over to us, and Wyatt shot me a dark look. “I can tell them to get lost.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Let them join us.”
Wyatt frowned. “They can’t ever leave me to a meal in peace with my wife, can they?”
“They’re not that bad. It’s not my fault I’m such a good cook.”
Boone and Dodge hurried up the porch.
“Any more of that left?” Dodge asked, peering down at my plate.
“Help yourself,” I said.
Boone patted my shoulder. “You’re an angel, Piper.”
I smiled. “I know.”
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The ranch hands ducked inside. When they returned, their plates were piled high with food. They took up their seats beside me and Wyatt and dug in. I caught my husband scowling at their plates.
“You’d better have left some for seconds,” he grumbled.
“Course we did,” they said in unison.
Wyatt sighed and looked across the table at me as I sipped my water. “Are you sure you’re ready for another kid?”
I smiled so big, my cheeks hurt. “Pretty sure.”
Boone paused mid-chew. “Wait. What?”
“Kid?” Dodge cocked his head to the side. “What kid?”
“Our kid.” Wyatt grinned.
“We’re having a kid?” Dodge gripped the edge of the table and looked back and forth between me and Wyatt.
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “Me and Piper are having a kid.”
“You’ll be the crazy uncles,” I said.
Dodge threw his hands in the air. “Holy shit! I’ve been waiting for this. Boone, go get me a beer. We’re celebrating.”
“Get your own damn beer,” Boone said. Then he turned toward me. “Congratulations, you two.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“A little Brewer running around the place.” Boone grinned. “Now that, I’m looking forward to. Hopefully, he’s not as much of an ass as his father.”
“Hey,” Wyatt said defensively.
I sighed contently as the men around me bickered back and forth. I reveled in the laughter, in the smiles, and in the general feeling of being home. With any luck, our little one would be exactly like his father.
Kind. Brave. Trustworthy. Loyal. Honest.
I could picture us in the kitchen making cookies together. Boone and Dodge would roll in and steal a whole sheet for themselves undoubtedly, but we would prepare for that. We’d set some aside specifically for Wyatt when he was done with his day of work. We would listen to music while we worked, and hopefully, he or she would inherit my love for being in the kitchen.
“I can’t wait to tell my parents,” I said.
The men quieted and Wyatt turned toward me. “They’re coming for dinner tomorrow. We could break the news to them then.”
“No. We’ll wait until we see the doctor. We’ll do this right.”
“It’s like Christmas in July,” Boone said.
“To family,” Wyatt said, lifting his water.
“To family,” the three of us echoed in response.
Since the beginning of twenty nineteen, I’d been building the life I never knew I wanted. Every day brought with it new challenges, obstacles, and joys. And three hundred and sixty-five of those days had led me right to the man of my dreams.
And now we’d made a life together. Not only the life we wanted on the ranch, but the life in my belly.
Wyatt nudged my shin under the table. “You good, Pipes?”
The nickname had leaked from my family to him, and it made my heart swoon every time it fell from his lips.
“Better than ever,” I whispered. “Better than ever.”
The End.
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About the Author
Ali Parker is a full-time contemporary and new adult romance writer with more than a hundred and twenty books behind her. She loves coffee, watching a great movie and hanging out with her hubs. By hanging out, she means making out. Hanging out is for those little creepy elves at Christmas. No tight green stockings for her.
She’s an entrepreneur at heart and loves coming up with more ideas than any one person should be allowed to access. She lives in Texas with her hubs and three kiddos and looks forward to traveling the world in a few years. Writing under eleven pen names keeps her busy and allows her to explore all genres and types of writing.
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The Wedding: The Casanova Club #14
Copyright © 2020 by Ali Parker
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and plot are all either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons – living or dead – is purely coincidental.
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Editor: Eric Martinez
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