Page 7 of Fall Love

It sure is, I think, admiring his backside in those tailored slacks. The edge of his coat rises because of the position of his hands.

Pulling my gaze away from him, I glance toward the window as well. The restless ocean in the far-off distance. The sliver of road visible at this height. The lighthouse off to the corner.

Some say this location is golden. A prime piece of real estate for a hot⁠—

“Holy hell, are you in real estate? Are you here about the sale?”

Once again, I think about the latest offer. The one with the pretty set of zeroes behind a large number.

We’d be set for life, Lumi argued.

I don’t know what she’s worried about. Her new boyfriend is loaded. He runs a lucrative toy company, which allows them to jet set all over the world as a couple, fulfilling her dream of traveling.

I am over-the-moon happy for her. I adore Saint. He looks like a sexy version of Santa Claus. I don’t even mind the khakis he occasionally wears.

Slowly, Tate turns toward me, removing his hands from his pockets and clasping them in front of him. “That’s me.”

I’d almost think he sounded contrite if I didn’t know better. If I knew him better. If I weren’t suddenly so angry.

Bucky Beaver Body Shop. Who the hell came up with that name?

This guy cannot waltz in here, all pretty man-boy in a suit, stirring me up in ways I haven’t been stirred for nine months, and be nice to me by setting my feet on a chair. I’d kick the back of the seat if I didn’t need the elevation for my heavy boots and even heavier swollen toes.

“Get out.” I fling my arm toward the front entrance.

Not exactly the way to ensure I get a job with the new company, but my heart is beginning to race again, and my belly tightens once more.

What the frigity-fudge is happening? I’m trying not to swear, even mentally, because of the baby.

I seize forward again, clutching at my belly like I’m holding onto a heavy cauldron.

“Little Wrench,” I grit through the rush of pain. Mommy does not like this feeling.

I know how a baby got in me, but I’m scared as hell about how she’ll get out. I watched a video I shouldn’t have watched, and just, nope. I understand that it’s biology and supposed to be beautiful, but no, no, no. Something that looks like an oversized gourd should not be able to squeeze out of a space no bigger than a pixie stick.

Tate rushes toward me, clutching at the back of the chair between us.

“What’s wrong?” He exhales. “Where does it hurt? What are your symptoms?”

“And now you’re suddenly a doctor?”

He gives me a sheepish look and an exaggerated shrug. “I wanted to be.”

“Yeah, well, when M.D. follows your MBA, then we can talk. For now, take your fine A.S.S. out of here.”

“Neve.” He presses off the chair back and swipes through his hair again. Does he practice that move? Does it affect other women like it’s affecting me? A clash of lust with a shock of something I hope is not labor. It’s too soon. I’m not due until October first. A sort of early trick-or-treat.

“You need a doctor,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No.” I hold out one hand while clutching the base of my abdomen with the other. “I’m just dehydrated.”

The doctor warned me to keep up my fluids and get off my feet often. I’m not good at following instructions. Plus, I can’t afford a hospital ride. My independent health insurance premium is a killer every month as it is, and an ambulance ride would cost a small fortune.

The row of zeroes from the offer Lumi told me about flashes in front of my eyes again. Even divided by four, it’s a large sum. But I’m no longer interested. Pride has me clinging to this place. I was on the fence about the deal, leaning into the golden opportunity, as Lumi called it, but now . . . I just can’t.

I cannot work for Tate Love and Bucky Beaver Body Shop.

Tate suddenly rushes around the small waiting room like an actual beaver has entered the space. He stands up. He squats down. He spins in a circle.