Kiss My Boots (Coming Home #2)

I scrunch my nose up. “You’re insane, Leighton. That makes no sense.”

She continues to stare at me unnervingly and I just barely resist the urge to look away.

“You’ve been the one actin’ insane, you weirdo.”

“You really are makin’ no damn sense. Are you gonna grab the pile of shorts or do I need to come get those later?”

She huffs and bends to pick up the last stack of clothing that I have left to bring to Tate—no, Tate’s and my house.

“Lemme ask you somethin’,” Leigh commands, her voice muffled by the clothes in her arms that are covering her face.

I turn and start walking down the hall to the stairs before answering. “What now, Leighton?” I deadpan.

“When was your last period?”

I stop walking, halfway down the stairs, and stare down them with wide eyes.

“Christ!” Leigh screeches out as she bumps into me, falling back onto her butt on the step behind her. “Just stop in the middle of the stairs, Q. That’s really safe. We should try runnin’ down them before jumpin’ and tryin’ to fly next.”

“Repeat that last question,” I breathe, my eyes feeling dry from being bugged out for so long, reminding me to blink.

“What question? Oh, about your lady time?”

“Yes, that one.”

“I’m thinkin’ you don’t need me repeatin’ it.”

I drop the shirts in my arms, seeing them fall down around the stairs, and turn, my hands frantically uncovering her face while flinging the clothes she was holding all around us.

“Oh my God, you’ve really lost it,” she gasps, wide-eyed, looking at the clothes all over the stairs. “I’m not pickin’ that shit up.” She leans back on her elbows and looks up at me.

“Why would you ask that?”

She smirks and shrugs. “Told you, you’ve been actin’ weird.”

“I have not.”

“You’re the only one that looks like she’s ready to break out a turtleneck when it’s not even that cold, Q. Not to mention the whole lookin’-seasick-even-while-smilin’-like-a-freak thing. And”—she reaches out to poke my boob, making me yelp—“your boobs are bigger and—thanks for confirming, by the way—sore.”

“No way.” I pant.

“Oh, yes way.”

“You could be wrong. I’m pretty sure I just had my period recently, Leigh.”

She looks smug at that. “You didn’t.”

“How do you know?” I all but yell.

“I know because you were supposed to have it last week. The same week I was supposed to have mine.”

Even through the shock of her words, I don’t miss that. “Wait a minute. . . .”

She winks. “Surprise!” Her excited word comes out just a whisper and I see her chin wobble.

“Jesus Jones! You’re pregnant?” I ask feeling my own chin start to tremble. “I’m so happy for you.”

She smiles, her eyes shining. “Thanks, Q. I’m still comin’ to grips with the whole thing, but you’re the only one that knows aside from Mav. Waitin’ to get a little further along before we start spreadin’ the news. Anyway, I’m bettin’ you are too, sister, so I’m happy right back at ya.”

I shake my head. “You’re gonna have my niece?”

She raises one perfectly arched brow. “You gonna have mine?”

“Holy shit,” I wheeze, dropping to sit in the pile of clothes around us. The silence continues, and even though I’m over-the-moon happy for her and Maverick, I can’t deny there could be some truth to her words. “Holy fuckin’ shit!” I yell, turning to look at her. “What the hell am I supposed to do? My fiancé is a damn gyno, Leigh! I can’t hide this from him while I find out if you’re right.”

She taps her chin and thinks it over. “Hey!” she exclaims. “I have an idea!”

Oh boy. Famous last words.

- -

Unlike the last time I cane here unannounced, the parking lot at Tate’s practice is a lot fuller, seeing as it’s the middle of the day and not the end of it. Leigh’s bright idea was to basically seduce him at work again. It has merit, seeing as it worked so well last time, but I want the moment Tate finds out he’s going to be a daddy to be something we can tell our future grandchildren about and me ending up naked and stuffed with his cock doesn’t need to be part of that.

I step down from Homer, smiling as I shut the door to the beast that helped bring Tate and me together. It’s his turn in the rotation, Bertha’s being last week, and I still get a different kind of thrill when I’m driving him than I get from any other truck. He’s always going to be the most special out of every one I own just because of what he represents in the Tate-and-me story.

When I enter the office this time, the waiting room is full, and Gladys is in her normal spot. I walk over and lean in to get some privacy in the crowded room.

“Quinn?” Gladys questions as my face gets closer. “You okay, sweet girl?”

I smile. “I would give you a big long excuse about why I need to get in there without an appointment when I’m sure all these nice ladies have been waitin’ and all, but that pain’s back, Ms. Gladys, and it was everything I could do to get here. He’s a naughty man, you know. I just need a quick walk-in appointment so he can get a good look at what he’s done to me this time.”

Her eyes are huge as I whisper my plight to her, not actually lying this time. Tate really does need to get a good look at what he’s done.

“Oh my,” she breathes. “You just come on around, honey. We’ll get you in real quick.”

“Thanks, Ms. Gladys. I owe you huge.”

“Don’t even think about it. Why I remember back in my day, a youngin’ like you, what it felt like after enjoyin’ your young fella’s attentions a little too much. Nothin’ like havin’ that fella bein’ a doc and all, seein’ as you won’t end up sittin’ with an ice pack between your legs for hours. Lucky girl you are, Quinn.”

I pray my tongue doesn’t actually fall down my throat in shock at her words and mumble what I think is some kind of thanks.

“Just wait in here and I’ll send Dr. Montgomery on in.”

I walk into the exam room, not removing my clothes this time, and stare at the sea of baby pictures pinned to the board in the center of the wall. Jesus Jones, will our little one be up there soon? I press my hands against my flat stomach and hope that Leigh wasn’t wrong. Now that the thought that I could be pregnant has taken root, I can’t handle the excitement I feel, praying that it’s true.

I sit against the table, resting my body back with my palms against the paper-covered surface. So much like the same position I used to my advantage the last time I surprised Tate at work with the plan of seducing him to win our bet.

I hear knuckles rasp against the wooden door and I straighten, placing my hands in my lap.

He walks in, frowning at me, his blue eyes meeting mine instantly. Gladys must have told him I was waiting this time.

“Hey darlin’,” he says, walking over and kissing me lightly. “You aren’t feeling well?”

“I’m feelin’ fine, Tate.”

He clears his throat, shifting on his booted feet. “Quinn, it’s the middle of the day. I can’t give you a quickie no matter how much I would love to when I’m slammed with appointments.”