M Leighton: Wild Child

“No, we can’t do that. They’re waiting for us.”

“We won’t be long,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, so you’re not worried about me at all. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Are you saying you don’t think I can work my magic on that delectable body of yours in such a short amount of time?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I meant—”

“Challenge accepted,” he says with a grin, bringing the car to a screeching halt then making a U turn.

Fourteen minutes later, we’re back on the road, both of us wearing very satisfied smiles.

“Doubt me again,” Rusty says with a cocky half-grin. “See what happens.”

“Gladly.”

He reaches over and takes my hand in his, bringing my wrist to his lips before he sets our entwined fingers on his thigh. A little smile stretches over his lips as he navigates the road to Cami’s. I lean my temple against the headrest and watch him. I can’t help thinking of how life is full of the most precious moments imaginable.

Less than fifteen minutes later, we’re sitting on Cami’s couch, holding glasses of champagne, watching Trick and her grin at each other.

“For the love of God, tell me or face the consequences,” I say when I can’t take another second of suspense.

“You’re so impatient! Give us a minute.”

“Why? Are you working up the courage to get naked and ask if we wanna swap? Because I can save you some embarrassment.”

“Oh God, Jenna! Of course not.”

“Then get to it, woman! Chop chop!”

“It’s not that easy. We’re waiting for a phone call.”

“A phone call?”

My curiosity is officially piqued.

The silence stretches on and, just when I’m about to mouth off again, Trick’s cell phone rings.

He smiles and says, “She is?” Pause. “That’s great news! And thanks for calling me with the results.”

When I hear that, I cover my gaping mouth with my hand and fight back the tears stinging my eyes. “Ohmigod,” I mumble.

Before I can say anything else, Trick finally speaks. “That was the vet’s office. They just got back the blood work results from the lab.”

I drop my hands. “The vet? What?” Obviously I was about to jump to a very erroneous conclusion.

“Yeah. I used some of the winnings from Rags’ last race to breed Patty with a stallion who’s won the Kentucky Derby twice and the Preakness once.” Trick looks down at Cami and grins before bringing his attention back to us. “Her blood work confirms that she’s pregnant. Male or female, we’re naming the foal Justy, after you two. The godparents.”

“Do what now? I’m confused.”

I look at Rusty and he appears to be just as confused as I am. We both turn back to Trick.

“Man, you’re gonna have to spell things out. We just christened some woods near here and our brains aren’t fully functional yet,” Rusty blurts honestly. I smack his arm for his confession, but when he winks at me, I can’t help but grin.

“We’ll talk about the rules and regulations for, ahem, acceptable uses of my property later,” Trick teases sternly. “Right now, we’re basically asking you two to be the godparents of our children.”

“Ohhh,” Rusty and I say simultaneously. “Of course we’ll be godparents to your children. Why would you ever think otherwise?” I ask.

“Well, we kinda figured you would,” Cami says. Her smile says there’s more. When she doesn’t say anything right away, I gasp and throw my hands over my mouth again. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod!”

Cami’s smile gets wider and Trick’s grin stretches from ear to ear.

“Am I missing something?” Rusty asks.

Cami turns glistening eyes to him as Trick bends from behind to wind his arms around her neck and hug her to him.

“I’m pregnant, Rusty. Trick and I are gonna have a baby.”

Tears are spilling down my cheeks and over my fingers when Rusty gets up and takes Cami’s glass of champagne and downs it in one swallow. “I guess you won’t be needing that then.”

We all laugh.

This just keeps getting better and better.

Jenna’s skin is still damp from the thorough plundering I just gave her. My fingers slide smoothly across her flat stomach. I rub circles over it, around her bellybutton and up between her ribs. It’s times like this that I’m even more glad I healed so well. I’d hate to miss touching Jenna like this.

“What are you thinking about when you do that?” she asks.

“Do what?”

“Touch my belly like that.”

“Do I do this a lot or something?”

“You have been the last few days. Am I getting fat or something?”

I roll my eyes and she grins. She’s not getting fat and she knows it. Jenna’s got a body ninety nine percent of the female population of the world would kill for. I’d kill for it, too. Just in a different way.

I go back to exploring the subtle landscape of her stomach.

“Well?

“Well what?”

“Are you gonna tell me what that’s all about or not?”

I shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “I’ve just been wondering what it would look like a little rounder, what you’d look like pregnant.”

There’s a long pause.

“Does that worry you?”

“Worry me? Hell no. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to touch you like this, knowing that my baby, our baby, was growing inside you.”

I hear a soft gasp and I look up into the dark pools of her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, but says nothing.

“What? Does that bother you?”

She shakes her head again. I can see that she’s fighting back tears. Her eyes shine in a different way when she’s trying not to cry.

“Then what?”

It takes her at least a full minute to answer me, and even then, her voice sounds a little thick.

“I just didn’t know you ever thought of things like that.”

“Do you? Ever think of things like that, I mean.”

“Sometimes.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Does it make you happy? Thinking about having my baby? Having our baby?”

I can tell she’s getting choked up again. She just nods.

“I could spend the rest of my life touching you like this, watching our babies grow inside you, raising them together, chasing our dreams down and making them our bitches.”

She laughs, which is just what I wanted. One of the dreams I have yet to tell Jenna about is watching her walk down a beautifully decorated church aisle toward me, toward our future and our life together. I’ll tell her all about that one someday soon. When I give her the ring that’s hiding in the top drawer of the dresser, under some old hunting socks I have. When I ask her to spend the rest of her life as Mrs. Jeffrey Catron. But right now, I’m happy just to hold her. And tell her I love her. And call her mine.

It’s about time.

THE END

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November 12, 2013

A few times in life, I’ve found myself in a position of such love and gratitude that saying THANK YOU seems trite, like it’s just not enough. That is the position that I find myself in now when it comes to you, my readers. You are the sole reason that my dream of being a writer has come true. I knew that it would be gratifying and wonderful to finally have a job that I loved so much, but I had no idea that it would be outweighed and outshined by the unimaginable pleasure that I get from hearing that you love my work, that it’s touched you in some way or that your life seems a little bit better for having read it. So it is from the depths of my soul, from the very bottom of my heart that I say I simply cannot THANK YOU enough. I’ve added this note to all my stories with the link to a blog post that I really hope you’ll take a minute to read. It is a true and sincere expression of my humble appreciation. I love each and every one of you and you’ll never know what your many encouraging posts, comments and e-mails have meant to me.