The Divine Creek Ranch Collection, Volume 1 [Book 1 - Divine Grace, Book 2 - Her Gentle Giant, Book 3 - Heavenly Angel] (Siren Everlasting Collection)
Page 154
Angel cleared his throat, his voice husky with emotion as he clasped her to him and said, “I understand what you mean. I sat and watched you sleep for a little while this afternoon. My heart felt like it was gonna burst from my chest.”
She nestled quietly to him for a few minutes. He would sit there with her snuggled in his arms all day if it was up to him. Then he heard her stomach growl. Chuckling, he patted her bottom and said, “It’s time to feed you.”
She helped him set the table while Joaquin and Michael kept an eye on the shrimp and vegetables outside on the grill.
“So how was your first day of freedom?” he asked, nuzzling her throat, breathing in her womanly scent then kissing her beneath her ear. She was now officially a stay-at-home mom and no longer worked at Stigall’s.
“Wonderful. How about your day, birthday boy?”
“This birthday is completely different from last year’s. I don’t need big celebrations or grand gestures, but as I recall, I got a phone call from several of my family members wishing me happy birthday, and I sat in front of the TV and ate a frozen dinner I heated up in the microwave.”
“Oh,” she said sympathetically. Teresa made no comment about the past, only said, “Well, those days are over, Angel. The day you were born is a big cause for me to celebrate.”
After supper, Joaquin helped Michael take his bath. Angel heard muffled laughter coming from the hallway and went to check on them.
“Little dude, trust me. You’ll figure it out in a few years,” Joaquin said as he sat on the toilet talking to Michael while he played in the tub. Joaquin had his hand over his mouth, shaking his head and chuckling. He grinned at Angel and rose to go out in the hall. “Be right back. No standing in the tub.”
“‘Kay.” Splash.
Angel whispered, “What’s so funny?”
Joaquin gestured farther down the hall as Michael began singing “Stuck on You” by Sugarland in the tub.
“Michael was getting undressed to get in the tub.”
“Yeah?”
“He took off his underwear, showed me his penis, and said, ‘Daddy, how come I got this big ol’ long thing for peeing?’ Showing it to me. You’ve seen him, right?” Joaquin asked, holding back more laughter.
“Kid’s hung good,” Angel said simply with an affirming nod.
“So he says, ‘Seems a waste just for peeing. What am I supposed to do with this thing?’ I almost fell off the toilet trying to keep from laughing.”
Angel was sure Michael had already had the same conversation with his mommy who would have cautioned him about asking just anyone. Teresa must have told him it was all right to talk to Angel and Joaquin about such things. Michael asking that question of them was a show of trust on both their parts.
They both walked back down the hall and Angel almost choked when they saw what Michael was doing in the tub. Joaquin slapped his palm over his mouth and held up a finger. Michael was making so much noise he never heard them as Joaquin pulled Teresa down the hall and they all peeked in the bathroom door together and watched Michael. He was, of course, standing up in the tub, his head covered in fluffy bubbles, with more clumps of bubbles dotting his little body. He was singing and dancing.
“Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, stuck like glue. You and me baby, we’re stuck like glue. Whoa-oh, whoa-oh, stuck like glue, You and me baby, we’re stuck like glue”
“Hey, that boy can dance,” Angel whispered with a chuckle.
“Let’s hope he’s a little more manly like his daddies when he’s dancing with girls,” Teresa whispered, covering a giggle with her hand as Michael wiggled his little tush to his tune.
Epilogue
Angel put Michael to bed and then returned to the living room. Teresa brought a wrapped gift and birthday card to the coffee table after both men were seated. The special cake lay under its cover on the counter. Joaquin presented his gift to his brother, a nice hand-tooled leather wallet which Angel loved. Michael’s gift to Angel, received before bedtime, was a picture he’d drawn of Angel with Michael on one of the stallions taking a ride. Teresa surprised him with a hand-tooled leather case for his laptop computer.
“You have one more surprise, my sweet Angel.” She rose and went to the counter. She lit sparkling candles on the cake and dimmed the light, then gave him the card with trembling hands. He opened it in the dim light and a slip of paper fell from it. She approached with the cake as he tried to discern what was on the piece of paper. The light from the candles illuminated it as she placed the cake in front of him.
“Make a wish, Angel,” she murmured as he looked up at her, confused, then smiled and turned to blow out the candles. His breath left him in a little, fruitless puff of air as the light from the candles shown on the lettering on the cake.
He read the words aloud, “Happy Birthday, Daddy…to be.”
Realization flashed through his brain, and he glanced again at the slip of paper, understanding what it represented. Joaquin’s sudden inhalation coincided with his own.
“No! Yes? Oh God,” he whispered. “You’re pregnant? Really?” He didn’t care that his voice shook, and he rose from his chair and swooped her up into his arms.
Her eyes glowed as she smiled at him. “Yes. I am, honey.”
She turned to Joaquin and said, “Congratulations, daddy-to-be.”
THE END
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Heather Rainier lives and writes in South Central Texas. Her stories offer up the content of her fantasies, with autobiographical humor, triumph and tragedy mixed in.
Heather believes that life doesn’t always present love to us in neat little sanitized packages. Sometimes we have to seize the day, live life with no regrets, forget the past, never give up, learn to trust, and dare to live, even in outrageous circumstances.
When not happily typing at her keyboard, Heather is usually busy corralling her kids, volunteering at local schools, or loving on her smokin’ hot husband, who thankfully loves to cook.
For all titles by Heather Rainier, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/heather-rainier
Siren Publishing, Inc.
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