Knocking Boots (Sexy Standalone)

by Willow Winters

  He searches my eyes for a moment and then takes my hand, looking at me fiercely.

  “What happened, then? Where— I mean, why is there… no baby?” he says, his brow knit. There’s pain in his question, and it makes me feel weak.

  The well holding my tears overflows, and they’re soon running down my face. I sound hysterical as I answer, “I had a m-miscarriage.”

  “When?” he asks calmly.

  “Today! Now!” I say, flailing. I can’t help the emotion, but Charlie doesn’t react to the hysterics.

  Charlie traps my hands and pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me. His comforting heat is more than welcome. I lean into him. He holds me for a moment, and all I want to do is climb into his lap as he kisses my hair.

  “Are you… are you hurting?” he asks, looking serious.

  I nod. “The doctor wrote me a prescription for pain medication, but I didn’t fill it.”

  “You have the script, though?”

  “It’s in my purse, I think.”

  He nods, taking a minute to run his hand through my hair. It’s a soothing gesture, like my mom used to do to me as a child.

  “Grace, I’m so sorry,” he says, smoothing his hand over my back. “I honestly am.”

  I bury my head against his chest, soaking his shirt with my tears. His scent is strong and masculine. Sucking in a deep gulp of air, I try to breathe it in despite my stuffy nose.

  “I wish you had told me that all of this was going on,” he murmurs. “I could’ve… I don’t know. Helped, in some kind of way. I can’t do anything now, and it’s killing me to watch you suffer.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t,” I whisper. “I was going tell you when I went to the bar, until I heard what you said. After… I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.”

  He shifts on the bed, moving around so that he’s laying down with his feet pointing the right way. He gestures for me to lie beside him, so I do. I lie down, and he spoons me.

  For the first time since I realized I was having a miscarriage, my grief lessens just a little. The simplicity of it stuns me, lulls me into quietude.

  He pulls the comforter up over us both, then wraps his arms around me.

  “I’m going to hold you. I hope that’s okay,” he says, his breath warm against my ear.

  I don’t say anything. No agreement, but no screams of protest either. Charlie has hurt me before, and I haven’t forgotten that.

  But his presence is welcome in my bed, just for right now. As my eyelids grow heavy, I know that I'll have a lot to figure out later…

  But at this moment, wrapped in Charlie’s arms, I am safe and warm.

  Chapter 38

  Charlie

  It’s not the sunlight that wakes me. It’s not my alarm clock, or the nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s the instant knowledge that she’s in my arms.

  Maybe I was dreaming of her, I don’t know. But one second, I knew it was real and she was here and I had to wake up. I had to be awake to take her in and make sure I still had her.

  I lost her once, and I’ll never lose her again.

  Never.

  She shifts slightly, her soft body going a bit stiff. I can feel the warmth from her, but there’s space between us.

  Too much space.

  Especially knowing… I can’t believe she went through all that alone. My heart clenches as I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer to me. Nestling her ass right where it belongs, up against me. I lean forward, planting a kiss on her slender neck and waiting for her to turn to face me.

  The sheets rustle as she rolls slightly and then fully in my arms so we’re face to face. Those beautiful lips of hers turn up slightly, but it’s a sad smile. My heart drops in my chest. I know that look in her pale blue eyes. It’s a look that says it’s over.

  But I’ll be damned if I let it happen.

  “Charlie,” she starts, her eyes falling to the pillow as she pushes her messy hair out of her face.

  “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” My voice is flat and hard, leaving no room for negotiation. Her eyes dart up to mine with a flash of something, something that’s gone before I can recognize it. And then there’s a familiar look staring back at me as she narrows her eyes. A challenge.

  “It’s just fun?” Her eyes search mine as she takes in a slow breath.

  I try to steady my own breathing, wanting nothing more than to take her right here right now, but her eyes are holding me still. They see through me, willing me to give her more.

  “I want you,” I breathe my answer. I’ve never wanted someone or something so damn much. Nothing more than I want her right here, right now.

  “For what?” there’s a vulnerability in her eyes as she swallows thickly and adds, “Just for now?”

  “I don’t know,” I answer quickly, not wanting to think.

  She pushes me away, just enough to move from in between me and her.

  “I can’t…” she looks away before covering her face with her hands.

  “Hey,” I ask her, grabbing her hand and forcing her to look at me. “Stop overthinking it.”

  “You don’t understand,” her voice wavers and she shakes her head slightly, the wind brushing the hair from her face. “You want this,” she says the words like it’s a bad thing.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I don’t want to waste my time with someone… who…”

  I cup her head with the back of my hand, waiting for her look at me. “Grace. I can’t tell you what I'll want a year from now. Shit, I don’t even know what I'll want a month from now, but I'll want you in my life. I want you.”

  “I want you, but I want a family, too. I don’t want to just fuck around.” Her voice carries the same no-bullshit attitude as mine and she holds my gaze.

  My heart beats loud in my chest. The crazy thing is, I never wanted kids. It was never even on my radar. But knowing that I could have had one with her, and that we lost what could have been…

  I swallow thickly, still holding her gaze.

  “I want you, too.” I lick my lips, feeling my pulse race as I splay my hand on her lower back and pull her close to me. “A baby’s a lot to ask for, but…”

  “I know it is.” Grace huffs a sad laugh, shaking her head. “I’m damn crazy to expect you to agree to that. But you know me. And I know you,” she swallows, her voice cracking. “And if it’s not what you want... And something that you'll want soon, then I need to move on, Charlie.” Tears form in her eyes and I shush her, rubbing her back and kissing her forehead.

  She doesn’t stop, she lets it all out. “I think I love you and if this stays the way it is… I know I’ll let it. I’ll let time go by. I’ll let you never commit to me. And I’ll regret it and I’ll be sacrificing something I may never be able to have. And Charlie, I want a baby. I want a family and I’m so damn sorry,” she wipes her nose with the back of her hand and then under her eyes with her fingers, all the while shaking her head. “I love you, but I want a family more than staying with you if it’s something you aren’t willing to give me.”

  I pull her back some by her shoulders so she can look at me as I say, “We can give it a little time, before we try again.”

  She’s still wiping away tears as I add, “Come move in with me. Let’s try this for real.” It’s not fucking around or a game, or pretend or a stupid drunken deal. I want to put my all into this, for her and for our future.

  “Not for any other reason than to see if we can make this work?” she asks me. Right then and right there, I know how the rest of my life is going to be. She’s going to be right by my side if I can help it. I know with everything in me that we will make it work. It’s easy between us. It always was. I was the reason we were apart. If I give her this, it’s over. I’m done for. She’ll have me wrapped around her finger and knocking her up again in no time. I search her eyes and all I see there is love.

  It’s what I feel for her, too.

  “I already know
we can.” I answer her with the only truth I know. “I want to be with you. I love you.”

  Chapter 39

  Grace

  Unwrapping a stack of plates, I move from the living room into the open-concept kitchen. The theme of this room must be gray, because the appliances, the countertops, and even the cabinets are gray and smooth. I set the plates down and open all the cabinets, looking for the place where the plates belong.

  I find them in the last cabinet I open, far away from Charlie’s stove and refrigerator. Picking up my plates, I sigh as I move them into the cupboard. This is the third area of Charlie’s house I've found to be disorganized while in the process of moving my stuff in.

  Sooner or later, I’m going to break down and reorganize the kitchen, the bathroom, and the laundry room. I would do it now, but I don’t want to freak Charlie out. For him, asking me to move in was really a big deal. If he comes home and can’t find anything, he might panic. The thought makes me snicker as I close the cupboard door.

  Okay, probably not. He’s a sensible guy. I just don’t want to make a bunch of changes and have him hate his own home. So far, so good. I’m just not willing to push it… yet.

  I return to the living room, picking up the now-empty box that previously held the plates. Breaking it down the box, I fold it flat so it will be easier to take out to the recycling later.

  My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my jeans and I pull it out to check it. It’s a text from Charlie, saying he'll be home soon.

  I check the time, and realize it’s midnight, long past my bedtime. What with packing, I got wrapped up, but I’ll still be expected at work in the morning.

  I drift into Charlie’s bedroom — our bedroom, I suppose I should call it. I sit down on the bed, looking at my grubby t-shirt and cotton shorts. I should change, but I don’t. Instead, I lie back on the bed and stare out the window.

  It’s been a hell of a week. I moved all my boxes into Charlie’s two-story McMansion. It’s out in the suburbs, which I’m learning not to hate. Charlie and some of his guy friends helped move all the big stuff so that it only took one day.

  There were some raised eyebrows amongst his friends. Here I am, a person who’s never met most of them, and I’m moving in. It’s fast.

  It’s really, really fast. When I called my mom and sister to tell them, they were sort of alarmed. Alarmed is putting it nicely. But it’s also what I’ve wanted for a long time.

  A happy and domesticated life, with a man who I truly adore. And if the guy happens to look like Charlie… well, that’s just icing on the cake. That, and the fact he adores me back. He loves me back. A warmth flows through me. I knew there was something there when I first saw him. But to hear him say the words, to really give us a chance, it’s a whole different kind of vulnerability.

  My phone vibrates in my hand. I check it again, and then grin. It’s a picture of Eric, Charlie’s new bar manager, standing on his hands on top of the bar. Eric is supposed to manage the bar in Charlie’s stead, but Charlie’s having a hard time letting go.

  So here I am, at midnight, encouraging him to come home.

  You coming? I ask.

  Be home soon. I guess it’s safe to leave Mac’s in this guy’s hands… right?? he texts.

  I’m pretty sure. You wouldn’t have hired him otherwise! I respond.

  Okay. On the way home, he says.

  Sitting up, I think about changing. Specifically, where my pajamas might be. I look at the boxes and boxes piled in the bedroom and bite my lip. I don’t really have time to dig through those boxes. The bar is only a five minute drive from the house, after all.

  After searching for a couple of minutes in vain, I steal one of Charlie’s t-shirts. It’s colossal on me, reaching down to my thighs. It also happens to be an Atlanta Redhawks shirt.

  I’m not that into sports, but hockey is fun to watch. Shrugging, I throw my old clothes in the laundry chute, which leads down into the laundry room.

  The door opens, the metallic chime of the security system alerting me. I get back on the bed, hurrying under the covers. Of course Charlie has seen me lots of times, and wearing less than this. But still, I huddle under the covers.

  When he comes around the corner, I can’t control the smile that breaks out across my face. He looks so handsome, in his old Mac’s t-shirt and low slung jeans with a peek of that sexy “V” showing.

  “Looks like you slayed a lot of boxes in the living room,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder as he comes in the room.

  “And yet, there are a million left,” I sigh.

  He comes over to the bed, eyeing me. He swoops down and kisses me. The faint smell of beer follows him.

  “You ready for bed?” he asks, looking at me.

  “I don’t know. Maybe?” Right after I answer, I involuntarily yawn.

  “I guess that answers my question,” he says with a rough chuckle, winking at me. He starts to get up.

  “No, wait,” I say, tugging his arm. “Stay. Tell me how Eric did.”

  “Aww, you’re not interested in that. It’s work stuff.”

  “No, I am! Tell me everything.” I am interested. It’s important to him, and therefore important to me.

  He looks at me for a long moment, then shakes his head.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I was going to wait until you’re higher energy, but…”

  He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out a Ring Pop. Scrunching my face curiously, I watch as he gets off the bed, kneeling on the floor.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, cocking my head. My heart does that thump, thump, thump that makes me nervous.

  “Asking you to marry me, if you don’t mind.”

  My mouth falls open. I stare at him, and he looks back at me, the hint of a smile on his face. But also nervousness. Holy shit. Goosebumps break out over my body.

  “You’re kidding,” I accuse.

  “I’m not. I’m just waiting for a sign that you want to hear the words.”

  “I… I…” I try to answer with my lungs refusing to work.

  My throat closes up, and tears threaten. I am officially speechless. I manage a nod.

  “Yes? You want to hear them?”

  I nod again. A tear rolls down my cheek.

  “I love you, Grace Campbell. I don’t want to lose you ever again. I want to build a life with you. I want us to have a family, together.”

  He pauses. I press my fingers to my lips. I can’t believe this is really happening.

  “Grace, will you marry me?” Charlie asks, looking at me with those soulful green eyes.

  “Are you serious? Like… for real?” I squeak.

  He laughs. “Yes. I’m serious.”

  I launch myself off the bed, tackling him. My kisses land more on his face than his mouth, but Charlie doesn’t seem to mind.

  “I’m getting you a real ring tomorrow,” he says when the kisses taper off. “I want you to love it, so I got you this in the meantime.”

  He pulls the Ring Pop from its wrapper, sliding it onto my finger. It’s a bright red. I look at it for a second, then taste it. It’s super sweet; raspberry, I think.

  Charlie chuckles. “You approve?”

  “Raspberry always was my favorite,” I retort, brushing the tears from my face.

  “So tell me what I want to hear.”

  “The kissing and tackling weren’t evidence enough?” I tease.

  “Not for me,” he says, his eyes sparkle and the smile on his face widens. “Not when it’s something this important.”

  I lean in and kiss him tenderly. “I do, Charlie. I do want to marry you.”

  “Good. Because I want to do this. I’m all in now.”

  “Forever?” I ask.

  “Forever,” he says.

  “I love you, Grace.”

  “I love you too, Charlie.”

  Epilogue

  Charlie

  The sound of keys tapping rattles through the house. Grace is busy at
work again. I roll in the bed onto my side and stare at the digital red numbers, 4:33 a.m.

  The bed groans as I shift my weight and crawl out of bed. My sweetheart’s been getting into this habit lately. It started before the wedding when she knew she’d be taking time off.

  And now she’s at it again.

  Ever since she was promoted to lead designer and in charge of her own team, she works nonstop. Well, mostly. But just like me, we make time for each other.

  My wedding band clinks on the doorknob as I open the bedroom door wider and follow the soft clicks of her laptop in the office.

  I lean against the doorframe, resting my head there and watching her for a moment. Her paintings decorate the wall. On the other side of the room is her easel. And my desk. I wasn’t sure about sharing a space for work, but it’s worked out better than I anticipated.

  She did have her own art space in the spare bedroom, but now that space is occupied. So we work together, and I know without a doubt that it always should have been that way.

  She’s made my house a home. And leaving work enjoyable, knowing that I’m coming home to her beautiful smile.

  The faint light from her computer bathes her in a glow. My lips creep up into a smile. No, that glow is from something else.

  As my eyes travel to her swollen belly, the tapping stops.

  Her gorgeous blue eyes stare back at me as she asks, “Did I wake you?” A wrinkle sets in the middle of her forehead as she frowns and gets up to come to me. Her belly almost pushes against the desk, but she turns in time. She’s only now getting used to the weight of our little boy.

  Six months pregnant, a little over a year after marriage, almost two years since I first laid eyes on her, and I couldn’t love her more.

  Our baby boy is healthy, and the doctors don’t expect any complications. It’s funny how she was so nervous and anxious when we were trying, but the moment she got pregnant, she relaxed and I became the one who was worrying about everything.