Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71348 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
It will totally suck when it’s over.
And it would be over. There is simply no way I can make it work—being a single father and leading this type of career. In fact, as soon as we make it past the twelve-week mark, I plan to tell my parents about what’s going on. They’ll need to get ready for their oldest son to move back home. The farmhouse is big and sprawling, but even I know it’s going to be a tight fit with the baby and me in there along with everyone else.
We’ll make it work, though. The Wrights always have. And I know there’s no way in hell my mom will have it any other way. She’s not going to let me or her grandbaby out of her sight for a while, but I’m sure I’ll get my own place one day. Maybe build something small on my parents’ land.
It would be hard readjusting to farm life. I’m not averse to the hard work at all, but I am opposed to a mundane life, and that is what will await me in the Nebraska cornfields.
Oh, well. It’s a sacrifice that will be totally worth it once that baby comes.
That I know without a doubt.
CHAPTER 14
Rachel
I strut through the Social Room of the Wicked Horse, having just stepped out of the lobby elevator. I’m wearing my sexiest dress—a low-cut number in silvery ice blue that compliments my eyes. It barely covers my ass, and any slight bending forward will reveal I’m not wearing panties.
Normally when I come off a high-speed, dangerous op, I’m totally amped to work out the excess energy at The Wicked Horse.
Add in the fact that I’m having the best sex of my life with Bodie, and I’ve got raging hormones coursing through me, I can barely contain myself right now. I need Bodie, and I need him bad. There’s a little bit of shame in the fact that he knew it, too, because as we were landing at McCarran in a private jet yesterday, he leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Tomorrow night. You and I are going to tear up the club.”
Bodie texted me a bit ago, and said he was coming out a little earlier than we had planned. He wanted to play some poker with the other team members in The Apartment for a bit.
As I walk past the long bar that takes up one wall of the room, I notice Jerico standing at the end. I hardly ever see him here anymore and never without Trista. He waves a hand at me and nods down at the drink he’s got sitting before him, a silent invitation to come join him. I’d rather get to Bodie, but there’s something to be said for building up the anticipation.
By the time I make it to Jerico, he has a ginger ale over ice waiting for me. I would have preferred water since I’m not nauseous, but the sentiment is nice, so I don’t say anything.
“All caught up on your sleep and the time difference?” he asks. It’s a standard question after traveling halfway around the world but over the years, I’ve trained myself to sleep on the flights to help with my bounce back.
“I’m good to go,” I tell him as I take a sip of the ginger ale, leaning my forearm on the bar.
“Sounds like you guys had a bit of excitement out there,” he says conversationally. I’m sure Kynan told him all about what happened with the pirates coming at us and turning tail when we fired warning shots their way from the Browning. There’s a slight twinkle in Jerico’s eye, and I know he misses this life on occasion.
“Where’s Trista?” I ask as I look around.
Jerico picks up his whiskey from the bar, takes a sip, and replies, “On her way here. Where’s Bodie?”
I grin. Clearly Kynan’s been filling him in on more than just how the operation went. “Kynan’s been blabbing, huh?”
“I admit I heard about the infamous pregnancy announcement you made at Kynan’s party a couple of weeks ago and how you also kissed him after. But even if I hadn’t known that, I would have figured it out during the competition you had with Sal. Bodie paced all around with worry during each contest. It was written all over his face.”
“Ironic he’s in The Apartment right now playing poker,” I say with a small smile, swishing my ginger ale around in my glass. I take another small sip. “He sort of wears his heart on his sleeve.”
“Sounds like that bothers you,” Jerico observes thoughtfully.
I’ve known Jerico a long time. Over ten years since I came to work at Jameson, the company he founded. We’re friends, but not overly tight. Still, he’s perceptive and doesn’t have any stake in Jameson anymore. He could be a sounding board for me, because I’m finding myself having mixed feelings on practically everything.