Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Normally it wasn’t a big deal. However, there were times, like right now, that I kind of hated that he did it.
“Baylor…”
Baylor started to laugh. “You told him.”
I hung up after saying I love you, then laid down on my bed and continued to study for my first exam of my second semester in veterinary school.
***
Phone call number two started out much the same.
“The air conditioning isn’t working,” I frantically whispered to my husband.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I don’t want to wake the baby.”
“We don’t have a baby yet,” he said humorously.
I rolled my eyes.
“Weeny is laying on my chest, and he looks so peaceful.”
“Weeny is a fucking cat, and there’s no reason in fucking hell you can’t wake him up by speaking loud enough for me to hear you,” he said, this time not so humorously.
We’d gotten Weeny when Baylor had found him in the trunk of a car, and instead of letting Baylor take him to the pound like he’d wanted, I’d saved him and brought him into our home.
Pongo despised him at first, but now they were reluctant best friends.
I rolled my eyes.
“But he looks so sweet laying across my chest,” I told him, this time a little louder. “I’ll Facetime you and show you.”
“I don’t want to…”
I hit Facetime and waited for him to connect, which he did. Grudgingly.
I immediately switched it over to rear view and showed him how precious Weeny looked with my big belly right behind him.
“Cute.”
I narrowed my eyes and then turned it back around so he could see the sweat on my face.
“Do you see this sweat?” I pointed to my forehead.
He didn’t look impressed. “Do you see mine?”
I narrowed my eyes. “How can you say that?” I snapped. “You’re outside. I’m inside.”
“Exactly,” he said. “If it gets too hot, go to Travis’s.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t want to go there. If I go there, I have to talk, and I don’t want to talk.”
He rolled his eyes. “What’s the temperature in there?”
I reluctantly stood up, placing the cat on the bed next to where I’d been laying, before rolling to a stand.
I waddled to the thermostat on the wall and moaned. “It says it’s eighty. It’s set at sixty-seven.”
“Too low for Texas, honey,” he said. “Bump it up to seventy-two. I’ll get some guys to look at it.”
Then he said his goodbye as a scuffle broke out in the background. He was doing a repo in the middle of the Texas summer, and I’d interrupted him.
Grinning and saying my ‘I love yous’ I dropped the phone to the bed and looked at both Pongo and my new kitty. “Y’all want to go to Grandma’s?”
Grandma’s was better than Travis’s because Grandma, aka Baylor’s mother, cooked me food and lavished me with attention. All I would get at Hannah’s house was a friend who would sit on the couch with me and yell at her kids.
Not that that wasn’t something I enjoyed— in moderation—but I’d just been over there yesterday. There was only so much a woman could take when she was seventeen years pregnant with a Hail baby who was presumed to be well over ten pounds…already. And seeing as I still had another two weeks to go, there was no telling what he’d be at birth.
Before I left, though, I changed my clothes, slipping on a less sweaty pair of underwear and a pair of leggings.
I glanced down at the underwear on the floor and decided that I’d get them later.
The heat was killing me. I could hardly breathe.
And I was hungry.
Two very bad things when it came to a pregnant woman.
***
Later was, apparently, the wrong move, when it came to picking up my underwear.
Me being too lazy to bend over and pick up my underwear meant when I got home later that night, it was to a whole shit ton of men in my closet, where I’d changed earlier, surrounding them.
I glared at Baylor.
“Baylor!” I hissed.
He turned his head from where he’d been surveying the men in the attic doing something to the A/C.
“What?”
I gestured for him to come over to me. Which he did, curling his arms around my back and pulling me as far into him as he could.
“Go pick my underwear up off the ground,” I gestured to the underwear I’d just left lying there earlier.
He looked over his shoulder, spotted the underwear, and shrugged. “They’ve already seen them.”
“That’s not the point,” I growled. “Now go.”
He rolled his eyes and let me go, walking over and picking them up.
Then he tucked them into his pocket.
I groaned. “Seriously?”
He grinned, looking down at the lacy thong that was half in/half out of his pocket.
“What’s wrong?”
I blew out a breath and walked away, counting to ten as I did.
I made it to five before he was wrapping his arms around me and pushing me into the spare bedroom that we’d yet to prepare for our child.