6. Chapter Six

Six months later

Why had I thought this was a good idea?

The blaring of the semi’s horn had jarred me back from wherever I’d drifted to. Zoned out was more like it. Nearly passed out from the pain was far closer to the truth.

Blinking, I realized I’d driven right past the road crew worker holding the red stop sign. He’d been directing traffic on what was now a one lane road. I’d nearly collided with a huge semi, who had blasted his horn enough to make my foot hit the brake hard. I wasn’t that far past the worker who had been holding the sign, and luckily all the oncoming traffic had been able to go safely around me.

The skin around my stomach tightened like a rubber band, and pain like I never dreamed possible radiated all the way around my lower section to my back. Tightening my hands around my steering wheel was all I could do, as I cried out and tried to breathe through the pain.

This is bad. This is so bad. Wyatt, for a genius, you have made some fucking dumb decisions lately. But this might be at the top of the list of your questionable life choices.

A light tapping on my car window had me turning my head, my teeth still gritted as I fought against the pain taking complete control of my body.

Turning my head, my eyes came face to face with the man’s groin. He was big. Taller than my car window. Had to be an alpha. All I could make out were a pair of tight, dark blue jeans, and a prominent bulge right there in my line of eyesight.

Because of his height I couldn’t see the rest of him from my sitting position. Just a wide chest and his bulge. Had I not been really, really occupied at the moment I might have been impressed by the size of that bulge. But I couldn’t be bothered to give it a second glance at the moment. Well, a third glance anyway.

Nope. I had completely sworn off alphas with big dicks, and even this one wouldn’t sway me.

Just look away, Wyatt, look away. Remember alphas with big dicks are what got you in this predicament in the first place.

The tight black Henley–fuck all, but I loved a man in a Henley–was stretched over his massive chest and bulging muscles. Had the man bought the thing a size too small?

And look where your love of an alpha in a Henley got you.My giraffe supplied, not at all helpful. Not that I’d actually seen him in a Henley that night. But my dreams had certainly conjured up what he would look like wearing one, those bulging muscles encased in all that tight material.

It was the five-pointed star pinned to the Henley, with the word ‘Sheriff’ stamped on it that finally tore my attention from his bulge. Seriously, did the man buy all his clothes a size too small?

He tapped on the window again and made a motion for me to roll it down. Because of course there would be an officer of the law that would witness my nearly getting myself run over by a semi, not to mention disregarding a work zone and a road construction employee’s safety. This was probably going to cost me a thousand dollars in fines. At least I had one hell of a good excuse.

My fingers fumbled with the electric button to the window, until I finally got it to work.

“Are you all right?” The deep, growly voice asked, and my breath caught in my throat.

I knew that voice! I still heard that voice in my wickedest of dreams. But it couldn’t be. He was way the fuck back in Texas, and he hadn’t even lived there. He’d been staying in the hotel that night. What were the odds he was here, in Sweet Alps, California, and was the Sheriff?

Another pain ripped through me, and my knuckles turned white as they gripped the steering wheel. Some sort of sound escaped my lips that I’d never heard myself make. It was a cross between a gasp and a moan. And not the sexy moans this man had once made me make. No this was a pain filled, I’m fucking being ripped in two, type of moan.

“Can you step out of the car, sir?” Clearly, I’d taken too long to answer his initial question or the sounds I had made had him thinking I was impaired in some way.

Well, Wyatt, you fucking are impaired.

“I…” Gasping again, I closed my eyes against what was happening inside my body. Because something was definitely happening that should only be happening in a hospital. “I…don’t think I can.” Moving seemed like a very bad idea right then.

His wide chest rose with an irritated breath. Opening my car door, he crouched down to peer at me, one hand on the butt of his gun. How had I missed that? It had been in a holster that was strapped around those hips of his. Turning my head on the seat, my eyes widened, because even though the voice had sounded like the one in my dreams, I’d convinced myself it couldn’t possibly actually be him.

“You!” We said the word in unison, both of us filled with shock at the sight of each other.

My mind, and ears, hadn’t been playing tricks on me. It was him. The alpha from the hotel room that night. The night I’d decided was perfect for losing my virginity and exploring my freak side. The night I’d chosen for crossing some things off my sex list.

Yeah, that had worked out great.

He looked almost the same. Well, this time he had clothes on. But the dark hair–with maybe a few more gray mixed in the strands now–and eyes were the same, the severe face carved in stone. The same massive shoulders and thighs. There was a trim beard covering the lower half of his face now, liberally mixed with gray. It did nothing to detract from his sexiness.

I wondered what that beard would feel like on my skin, before a sharp pain made me remember that now was not the time to be having any kind of sexy thoughts.

His eyes moved from my face to my huge belly, and it was his turn to gasp. Yep, my belly looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball, and was almost pushing into the steering wheel.

“Okay,” he said more to himself I thought, than to me. “Let’s get you into my car and to the hospital.”

How in the actual fuck he could sound so fucking calm right now, I had no clue, but I was grateful for it. Somebody needed to stay calm right now, and it sure as fuck wasn’t going to be me. I was one step away from completely losing my shit.

Yeah, getting out of my car and walking anywhere wasn’t going to happen. At least not if the bulging I was feeling in my backside was any indication, and this overwhelming need to push. Weren’t first babies supposed to take forever? My kid had not gotten that memo.

Well, you’re the one that moved that sofa, Wyatt.

And I had. Because I hadn’t liked where the movers had put it. Even though it was exactly where I’d instructed them. While they’d been busy carrying in other boxes and furniture and taking them upstairs, I’d scooted the sofa around with my leg muscles into a completely different spot. Which I hadn’t liked either. So, I’d scooted it back to where I had originally told them to place it.

It was during the process of scooting it back that I’d felt a pop, and fluid had soaked my pants, running down my leg. My water had broken. My daughter wasn’t due for another month. Shifters only carried our babies for seven months, unlike humans who had to carry for a full forty weeks. I’d only had one appointment with my new doctor just the day before.

I’d just closed on my house last month and finalized the purchase of my new business in Sweet Alps. This morning I’d been waiting for the movers to show up with my belongings from New York at our new house. They had arrived at eight a.m. sharp that morning and by nine-thirty my water had broken.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening now. Not this way.

I had a birth plan. I had a list. Several of them, in fact. One of those distinctly said I would give birth in a hospital, four weeks from now. Due dates were given for a reason. So you could plan things that needed to be taken care of around that date.

My daughter gave not one flying fuck about a birth plan or my many lists. She was doing things her way, it seemed.

This was most definitely not supposed to be happening in my car, in the middle of road construction, with the alpha who had unknowingly knocked me up, staring at me wide eyed.

I didn’t even know his freaking name!

“That’s not happening,” panting between clenched teeth, I clipped the words out sharply.

“What do you mean?” He was a man who expected his orders, commands, every whim to be obeyed. I knew that for a fact.

Hmm…good luck, buddy, little miss is going to keep us on our toes, right from day one.

Giving him a side-eye, I growled. “I think the only thing holding this baby in right now is the fact that I’m still wearing my pants!”

“Shit!” Oh, now he got it.

“Yeah...shit.” Panting had taken over normal breathing.

He seemed to collect his wits fairly quickly, I’d give him that. Pulling out a walkie talkie from who the fuck knew where, it loudly squawked to life. He said a bunch of stuff I didn’t even try to pretend to understand. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew the meanings for all the codes hed just rambled off. Not pushing this baby out, when that’s all my body wanted me to do, took my full concentration.

Why had I thought driving myself to the hospital had been a good idea? Because I hadn’t had a contraction yet when my water broke? Yeah, the first one had hit five minutes into my drive, and it had hit hard and fast. This baby was fucking impatient, and she was not waiting for anything. I hoped that wasn’t going to be her personality and this was a one off for her.

“Okay, let’s get you in the back and take a look at the situation.” His dark voice washed over me, and I think he must have been pushing some of his Alpha pheromones my way too, because I instantly calmed.

That or I was just really happy to have someone be in charge for a minute that wasn’t me. This shit hurt, and this wasn’t at all what my birth plan was, and I was ready to call it and go home. What had Dr. Sinclair told me last week? Oh yeah, birth plans are great, but plan for something to throw your plan completely out of whack, and be prepared to roll with it.

This was as far out of whack as you could get, and I didn’t want to roll with it. I didn’t roll with things. The last time I had rolled with anything, six weeks later I’d been peeing on a stick, and praying to the porcelain Goddess. I liked order, charts, graphs, spreadsheets. Lists. I loved a good list. I had a list for everything.

Giving birth in my car was not on any of my lists.

Looking up at him through my lashes, I huffed, “I’m. Not. Moving.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, the ones that still reminded me of rich coffee beans. “Don’t be difficult, boy.”

“Not…your…boy! Not…your…anything!”