Page 121 of Nine Month Contract
“Oh God!” Luke bellows, and my eyes widen as I look past my fiancé and spot his two brothers currently making their way down the hill from their cabins toward us.
“Avert your eyes!” Wyatt thunders, stomping over to me to yank my shirt down. His nostrils flare, and he’s breathing heavily as he growls, “Seriously, Trista?”
“How was I supposed to know your brothers would come over?” I huff back. “Besides, all they’re seeing is stretch marks and mostly covered nipples.”
“All my favorite parts,” he grumbles and turns protectively to block me from his brothers’ views, even though I’m fully covered now.
“What the hell were those horrible things attached to your titties?” Calder has the nerve to ask. He’s brave for that one.
“Stop looking at my wife’s breasts.” Wyatt thrusts a finger at both of his brothers as they stand by the woodpile, and I struggle not to swoon. I love when he calls me his wife. Premature, yes, but it feels so glorious all the same.
“Kind of hard when she’s flashing the whole mountain,” Calder jeers, his nose wrinkling. “And besides, there’s nothing sexual about whatever is going on under there.”
“My wife making milk for our daughter is extremely sexy.” Wyatt is out of control with his rage. It’s so cute.
“It’s so I can pump milk for Stevie and still hang by the pool in Mexico!”
Wyatt turns to look at me, his brows raised. “So does that mean you’re coming around to the idea of us getting married so quickly?”
I exhale heavily. Originally, the plan was to wait a while before we got hitched. Let us adjust to parenthood a bit. Get used to the idea of being a family of three. We’re in no rush, right?
But when Max told the whole family he won a week’s stay at a fancy private Mexican villa complete with butlers and staff and that it was over Everly’s Easter break from university and he wanted all of us to come, things got a little carried away.
It was New Year’s Eve, and the whole family was hanging out at Max’s. I was tipsy on my first drink since getting knocked up and in love with my husband and baby and this newfound family I won the lottery with. The words“We should get married while we’re there”just kind of tumbled out of my mouth.
I blame Cozy. That bitch has a heavy pour.
Of course, everyone loved the idea. Everly immediately went into party-planning mode. Johanna said she would be Stevie’s nanny while we’re all down there because she knows I could never leave Stevie so soon. And Wyatt?
The man had happy tears in his eyes over my declaration.
It made me realize that it was my turn to show him how much I love him and his whole crazy family. So here I am.
“I applied for my passport and have been dress shopping with Cozy already, so yes, Mr. Mountain Man. I’m ready to marry you.”
He hits me with the most panty-dropping smile as he leans in and wraps his arms around me, crushing me to his chest. His lips begin to devour me whole, and the whiskers from his beard make my body hum with desire. I lose myself in the moment, relishing in the light snowflakes dropping over us as we kiss in this snow with his brothers watching like the lovable creeps they are most days.
Until I feel something wet on my chest. “What the…”
I break our kiss and pull away to see that my breast pumps have somehow detached, and I’ve leaked milk all over my shirt.
“I’m going to be sick,” Calder groans and turns away.
Luke gives an apologetic smile. “We were going to see if we get plus-ones for this big wedding, but we’ll, um…let you guys deal with that.”
They walk away, and I flinch at that request because Mountain Man Matchmaker Everly has been in my ear with big plans for Calder and Cozy’s best friend, Dakota, who is, in fact, coming with us to Mexico. She’s taking photos at Everly’s demand. I’m not sure how she’ll take the news that her uncle wants to bring a date that I’m pretty sure won’t be Dakota.
Mountain-man drama!
I attempt to save whatever ounces of milk are still in the containers and struggle with my damp shirt under my coat. “This stuff is liquid gold, you know.”
“I’ll help you make more.” Wyatt waggles his dirty, filthy eyebrows at me, and I hate that I can’t help but smile back at him.
“I’m mad at you for spilling my milk,” I snap.
He points at my lips. “But you’re smiling, so that comment feels very confusing.”
“I know!” I growl, and the sound of Stevie’s cry breaks through our moment of flirting.
