by Grant, Pippa
And I’m very confused when I pull out a gray T-shirt.
“Turn it around.” She’s practically on top of me, bouncing and smiling, which suits me just fine, but when I turn the shirt around to look at what’s printed on the front, she goes still.
And then I do too.
Growly Bear Daddies Are The Best Daddies, it says.
I open my mouth.
Shut it.
Open it again.
Glance at her.
And the sight of her face wavering between utter excitement and utter panic sends my heart flying to the stratosphere.
“Trouble Jean,” I breathe.
“You don’t have to wear it today,” she whispers. “I mean, you probably shouldn’t. Not for another couple months. And school might get complicated in the fall, so it’s a good thing I have three more years to do two years’ worth of work. But…do you like it?”
She bites her lower lip and watches me.
I have to swallow twice to find my voice, and once more to make it work. “Are you—is that—are we…?”
She blinks shiny eyes and nods, then reaches into the bag and pulls out a short stick with a message printed clearly on a digital read-out.
“Holy fuck,” I mutter.
She loops her arm through mine and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “I know it’s not exactly in the plans, but…”
“Coffee.” I jerk back and look down at her. “You can’t—”
“One cup,” she sighs. “I can have one cup.” She squints at me. “Are you okay?”
I blink at her again.
Am I?
She’s right.
A baby isn’t exactly in the plans, but fuck the plans.
I start to smile, and then I laugh. A year ago, this would’ve freaked me out worse than the EGB. But today?
After a year of talking and working and falling more and more in love with Tillie Jean every day? “A baby?”
She nods. “It’s entirely possible I’ll be puking my guts out this time next week.”
“A baby.” I can’t stop grinning. Until a new thought hits me. “Is your father going to kill me?”
She tips her head back and laughs. “No. He likes you. And he likes that you make me happy. And in case you haven’t noticed, both of my parents are basically in love with being grandparents.”
A baby.
Tillie Jean and I are having a baby.
I have a diamond ring hidden in my workout bag.
The one that never leaves the closet, for the record.
I pull Tillie Jean into my lap and kiss her until we’re both breathless. “I fucking adore you,” I tell her.
She runs her fingers through my hair. “That’s very convenient, because I happen to be madly in love with you.”
The only thing I feel right now is complete and utter joy.
No panic. No worries. No fear.
Just right.
Happiness. Contentment. Love.
Everything.
Bonus Epilogue
Cooper Rock, aka a dude headed to his house after grocery shopping about the same time his dear, wonderful, favorite sister is giving her soon-to-be fiancé all of that good news in the previous epilogue
There are seventy million things I love about Thorny Rock Mountain, starting with, it’s where I came from.
Yep.
I was birthed by this very mountain, and I gave it no labor pains, and we high-fived each other the minute I came out, and we’ve gotten along great ever since.
Don’t tell my mother I’m making shit up, okay?
Not that she’d be surprised. I tell her something like this every Mother’s Day to watch her laugh at me.
I’m whistling through the switchbacks.
Much as I love the city, home is where my heart is, and I’m almost home.
I pass the first house I picked up on the mountain once I decided I wanted to own the whole pile of dirt that birthed me. This one’s a normal-size two-bedroom log cabin that families from the city come out and rent on weekends. “High five, Bear Cottage,” I call to it.
Rents better on those vacation rental sites when it has a name.
Plus, who wouldn’t want to stay in Bear Cottage?
“High five, Cedar Chalet,” I call to my next rental property down the way.
All those people in the city have no idea what they were doing giving up their weekend properties to me.
They’ve let me buy almost my entire mountain.
Grady and Tillie Jean keep telling me it’s bad for my ego, but let’s be real.
There are very, very few things in life that can ding my ego.
That’s all I’m saying about that.
For the record.
I take two more switchbacks, and there’s one more driveway.
“High five, Beck Ryder’s house,” I call to one of the few properties I don’t own.
“High five, Cooper, you magnificent beast,” I reply to myself in my best Beck Ryder impersonation.
I like Beck.
Good dude. His wife’s awesome. Their baby is too. Not that I’ve gotten much time around the pipsqueak, but she came from good genes, so you know she’ll be awesome when she morphs from a little cute blob that eats and sleeps and blows out diapers to a walking, talking toddler who sticks her fingers in light sockets and gnaws on things she finds on the floor.
Like dirty jockstraps.
I grin. Darren Greene has his hands full these days. And yeah, his kid is how I know what toddlers do.
Heh.
I slow down and turn into my driveway, except my driveway isn’t there, so now I’m slamming on the brakes, angled hard in the middle of the road, staring at my mailbox.
Mailbox is there.
But where my driveway belongs, there’s no driveway. It’s undergrowth and a giant pine tree and fallen leaves and how the fuck did she pull this off?
I look up the road.
Then down the road.
This is definitely where my driveway belongs.
I am not confused.
That’s my mailbox.
She didn’t just move my mailbox, did she?
Oh, and make no mistake.
I know exactly who she is.
Tillie Jean.
Tillie Jean, who has yet to learn that you don’t awaken the beast in November.
Not if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life looking like a toddler who had an accident in a glitter factory.
I whip out my phone and send a quick text.
Vengeance will be mine, Matilda Jean.
Vengeance will once again be mine.
* * *
Hi, you beautiful reader, you! It's Tillie Jean, here to tell you that if you had fun with Max and me in our book, you will ADORE my friend Ingrid's book! She's a single mom of three, running a bookstore that my other friend Henri adores, and she's also caught the eye of the hottest rock star on the planet. You won't believe what these two will do for love! Keep reading to get a sneak peek of their story, then grab The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob on Amazon HERE!
P.S. Just for fun, we talked Pippa into writing one more little short scene about us. If you want to see how Max handles fatherhood, click HERE! You'll also get the option to sign up for the Pipster Report, which is the first thing I read every Friday morning.
P.P.S. If you’re the awesome type of person who likes to leave reviews, here are quick links for you to Amazon and Goodreads.
P.P.P.S. If you’d like to spend more time in Shipwreck, more time with the Fireballs, or maybe just want more of Stinky Booty, *ahem* sorry, my brother Cooper Rock, then check out these books:
For more Shipwreck:
Flirting with the Frenemy
Master Baker
For more Fireballs:
Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire
Jock Blocked
Real Fake Love
And if you just want a little more Cooper, he also appears in:
America’s Geekheart
Sneak Peek of The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob
Are you a fan of sexy rock stars, single moms, fairytales and wayward squirrels? Then read on for a sneak peek at The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob!
Why does my child have a dying red squirrel in a shoebox?
Also, why is that not the weirdest question I’ve ever asked myself? I curl my fingers into my palms, then release them before I say something I’ll regret. “Zoe, we can take this upstairs, and—”
Levi steps around me and tilts the lid to peer inside. “I know a great vet. Lives in my brother’s neighborhood, which is awesome, since my nephew’s always finding frogs and gophers.”
I try to push the lid closed again. “We can’t—”
“When he says she’s the best,” his bodyguard interrupts, “he means that in all possible ways.”
Fantastic.
So Levi’s slept with her.
He stiffens next to me too. “Giselle, you might want to re-word that before Dr. Murphy’s husband gets the wrong idea.”
His bodyguard cracks a grin. “Did that come out wrong?”
He ignores her and peeks inside the box again. “You know what he smells like? He smells like this time Tripp and Cash got drunk on apple wine when we were—Aaaah!”
There’s a flash of fur, and he flings himself backwards with a furry creature hanging onto his face. “Drunk squirrel!”
Giselle lunges for him.
Zoe lunges for the squirrel. “Skippy!”
I lunge for all of them. At once.
Levi twists and spins while the squirrel climbs his perfectly-mussed hair, then goes down his back and into his jacket. His face contorts, and he makes a strangled noise, and oh my god.
Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.
Please tell me my kid’s rescue squirrel didn’t just go down Levi Wilson’s pants.
Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod.
He rips his jacket off and flings it onto the floor, and oh thank god, there’s the squirrel, racing to the top of the bookshelves.
“I got it,” Giselle announces.
Zoe’s crying. “But he was sick.”
“He’s not sick! He’s loose in the store!”
“Drunk,” Levi says, wiping his face. “That squirrel is definitely drunk.”
“He lost his balance!” Zoe shrieks as I try to hug her and calm her down. “He could’ve died! I love him and he doesn’t know how to be a wild squirrel anymore.”
Levi’s eyeballing me, and I don’t know if it’s reverence or repulsion. “You have a pet squirrel?”
“I have chaos and a guilt complex and I didn’t know we have a squirrel!”
Grab your copy of The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob HERE!
Pippa Grant Book List
The Girl Band Series
Mister McHottie
Stud in the Stacks
Rockaway Bride
The Hero and the Hacktivist
The Thrusters Hockey Series
The Pilot and the Puck-Up
Royally Pucked
Beauty and the Beefcake
Charming as Puck
I Pucking Love You
The Bro Code Series
Flirting with the Frenemy
America’s Geekheart
Liar, Liar, Hearts on Fire
The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob
Copper Valley Fireballs Series
Jock Blocked
Real Fake Love
The Grumpy Player Next Door
Standalones
Master Baker (Bro Code Spin-Off)
Hot Heir (Royally Pucked Spin-Off)
Exes and Ho Ho Hos
The Bluewater Billionaires Series
The Price of Scandal by Lucy Score
The Mogul and the Muscle by Claire Kingsley
Wild Open Hearts by Kathryn Nolan
Crazy for Loving You by Pippa Grant
Co-Written with Lili Valente
Hosed
Hammered
Hitched
Humbugged
* * *
Pippa Grant writing as Jamie Farrell:
The Misfit Brides Series
Blissed
Matched
Smittened
Sugared
Merried
Spiced
Unhitched
The Officers’ Ex-Wives Club Series
Her Rebel Heart
Southern Fried Blues
For my most up-to-date book list, CLICK HERE
* * *
Keep in touch with Pippa Grant!
Join the Pipsquad
Get the Pipster Report
Friend Pippa
Like Pippa
Hang with Pippa on Goodreads
Follow Pippa on BookBub
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About the Author
Pippa Grant is a stay-at-home mom and housewife who loves to escape into sexy, funny stories way more than she likes perpetually cleaning toothpaste out of sinks and off toilet handles. When she’s not reading, writing, sleeping, or trying to prepare her adorable demon spawn to be productive members of society, she’s fantasizing about chocolate chip cookies.
Keep in touch with Pippa Grant!
Join the Pipsquad
Get the Pipster Report
Friend Pippa
Like Pippa
Hang with Pippa on Goodreads
Follow Pippa on BookBub
Follow Pippa on Amazon
Follow Pippa on Instagram
Join Pippa on Book+Main
For more information, visit Pippa’s website:
www.pippagrant.com