Page 59 of Nine Month Contract
“No. Calm the fuck down, Papa Bear.” Calder grips the steering wheel nervously. “I saw her giving the little furball a scrub in the outdoor shower the other day.”
“You shouldn’t be looking at her at all,” Wyatt bites out, and my mouth drops open when I realize he’s dead serious.
“Wyatt!”
“What?” he barks, turning his anger right at me. When our eyes lock, he quickly snaps out of his crazy trance and blinks sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Luke whines, rubbing the spot his brother punched him. “We pass the barn every time we leave the mountain, bro. It’s impossible not to lay eyes on her.”
“Okay, you guys are all friggin’ nuts. Wyatt, please let your brothers speak to me. This graduation party will be awkward enough for me as it is. I know nobody.”
“You know me,” Wyatt grumbles, the muscle in his jaw flexing as he faces forward and watches the road. He looks mad, but I can’t figure out why exactly. His brothers can’t be any worse than him.
“I’ll risk murder and talk to you,” Calder says, wagging his eyebrows at me in the rearview mirror. He glances at Wyatt and hesitates a bit before asking, “So tell me, MB…how exactly did you get knocked up with my brother’s baby? I want all the dirty deets. He won’t share, and it’s driving me crazy.”
Wyatt groans as he covers his face with his hands in surrender. Okay…maybe they are animals, but luckily, animals are my specialty. I waggle my brows at Calder in the rearview mirror and reply, “Tell me what MB stands for, and I’ll give you the whole juicy story.”
Wyatt’s head snaps to look back at me with a silent warning while Calder glances at Luke, who both grin like they’ve just won the lottery.
“MB stands for Momma Bear,” Calder answers with a leer and then points at Wyatt. “Papa Bear. Momma Bear.”
I frown, disappointed at that label because I won’t be this child’s mother when all is said and done, and the less I think about that fact, the better. I’m a mere cow.
“Your turn,” Calder urges, glancing back at me.
They asked for it.
Biting my lip, I lean forward and drape my arms over the back of Calder’s seat. If Wyatt is going to be a grouchy dick this week, then it’s high time I make some new friends. I feel Wyatt’s eyes trained on me as I whisper breathily into his brother’s ear loud enough for everyone to hear, “It was late at night, and I was out by the barn, tending to the animals…the wild,hungryanimals. There was a cool chill in the air, and a heavy spring rain had just begun, soaking my clothes all the way through. I ran under the overhang for protection. The sound ofrain pounding on the tin roof was deafening when suddenly, Wyatt came up behind me, pressed me up against the barn, and ripped my drenched bodice off my breasts before he lifted my skirt and…fucked…my…brains out.”
I sit back with a Cheshire cat grin as the truck goes completely silent, all three men too afraid to breathe, let alone speak. Luke shifts in his seat, trying to get farther away from me, and Calder’s brows are furrowed with confusion as he stares down the highway.
I giggle quietly, relishing that with all the testosterone in this truck, I still managed to command the space. Who’s the king of the mountain now?
I feel on top of the world until I spot the heated look in Wyatt’s eyes—a look that isn’t angry or grumpy or sour. It’s a look that sends a frenzy of butterflies through my entire body. A look that would incinerate me if he directed it my way.
And I’d be happy to burn.
WeeksPregnant:14
AnimalsontheMountain:4
Wyatt’s brother is rich rich. Not the kind of rich that Wyatt looks like where he doesn’t necessarily drive fancy cars, but you can tell he has plenty of money. Max Fletcher is the kind of rich that means not one family member is working in the kitchen at this graduation party. They have staff taking care of everything.
This means that when I follow the guys through the exquisite house bustling with people and we enter the backyard where the full party is, my jaw drops like I’ve never seen civilization before.
First of all…the yard itself is bananas. A giant swimming pool with floating lights, a guesthouse, and a creek runs along the back end of the property. It’s not gorgeous mountainside, but they are surely rocking their little oasis back here. And the Boulder housing market is even more insane than Denver, so I know this house is worth at least a couple of million.
The party decorations are next-level too. Skirted high-top tables are scattered throughout the pool deck area topped with fancy floral arrangements. There’s a DJ booth with a slideshow of Everly playing on a giant screen, an outdoor buffet with bacon-wrapped shrimp, steak…holy shit, is that an ice cream truck?
I count not one but two open bars. What kind of high school graduation party has open bars?
Everly Fletcher’s, I guess.
And the worst part is that…the girl is so sweet, I can’t even hate her.
“Trista, you came!” Everly calls out from the other side of the pool and waves enthusiastically. She extracts herself from a group of teenagers to come running toward us. I can’t imagine how I look right now, flanked by three plaid-covered mountain men and dressed in a clearance JCPenney dress.
Everly wraps her arms around me and squeals into my hair. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
