Chapter Thirteen

“HENRIETTA,” I SAID, REACHING UNDER ONE OF MY CHICKENS. “Good girl.” I put her egg in my basket and moved on to the next chicken.

“Hey, sexy,” I heard from behind me, making me jump about fifty feet.

I backed out of the chicken coop. “Scare the crap out of me, why don’t ya?”

“Crap’s not quite my thing, but riding you like my little horsey kind of is. Remember the fundraiser?”

“No, I completely forgot.” I adjusted my cowboy hat, thinking how I’d have to change to my winter hat soon. It was the beginning of January, and finally getting a bit cold.

“How I held that towel like it was your reins,” Bauer said, smiling wistfully.

I buttoned up my flannel and picked up my basket of eggs. “You have a wild imagination.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you neigh.”

“You wish.”

“Need a hand?”

“Actually, that’d be great.” I gave him my basket.

“Still dying?” he asked, taking it from me.

I scoffed. “I’m not dying.”

“You’ve pretty much been sick since I met you.”

“I have not.” Sure, maybe a time or two, like when I caught that bug or ate that shrimp, but the other stuff was just bloating from gluten or something.

“You have. Let me pull it up on my phone.”

“Pull up what?” I asked as we began walking back to the house.

“I started keeping a log.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You what?”

“So we can tell the doctor the symptoms you’ve had for months after you collapse one day soon.” He was so sweet but had no real reason to be concerned.

I sighed. “Bauer, I’m fine.”

“Then why do you need my assistance?” he asked, the tip of his nose a bit red. All he wore was a Henley and jeans. The Henley looked incredible on him, tight and showing off his muscles, but he wasn’t exactly dressed for cold weather.

“I’ll just do it.”

“You wish. What’s next on the list? You look adorable, by the way, farmer boy.”

I glanced down at the overalls I had on under my flannel and large black muck boots and snarled at him. “Not everybody can be a model.”

“Nope, only me because I’m special and super-hot. Now tell me what to do.”

“Thanks, your hotness.”

“Look at you, giving me a cute little nickname.”

“Isn’t it time for you to go home?”

“Nope to the nope. I just got here.”

***

Our relationship had grown into something comfortable. It was still technically secret, but we were together all the time.

“Okay, nothing is working.” I put my palm on my bloated gut. Despite Bauer’s pleas, I had yet to visit a doctor, but I would have to because I could no longer deny that I wasn’t perfectly fine. It had been several months already.

“Yeah, look at these.” He poked at my chest. It had some noticeable swelling or fat. I had man boobs. The kind overweight men got.

I slapped his hand away. We sat on my bed, both of us just in our underwear.

He smiled. “They’re oddly attractive.”

“I thought you were making fun of them.”

“No, you look sexy.”

“And is this sexy?” I glanced down at what used to be my six pack. Now it was like a dough fest.

“Maybe we should take you to a specialist,” he chewed the corner of his lip, studying me.

“You know what they’re going to tell me? Stop eating gluten.” I sighed and ran my palm over my hair. “But you might be right.”

“Dude, it’s most obviously something.”

“Yeah. Maybe I have some sort of malfunction with my metabolism.”

“It almost looks like you’re pregnant.”

“Don’t you wish? Then you can live out a perfect alpha life.”

“Hey, you’re my mate. I don’t need an omega for a perfect life.”

I nodded and glanced down. “It’s not big enough to be a baby bump.”

“Do you think?” he asked.

I drew my head back, staring at him. “Think what?”

“That you are. That you’re pregnant.” His eyes were wide, and he smiled like he thought the possibility of such a thing was great.

“You’re on crack. I’m an alpha. It’s impossible.”

He rubbed his thumb over the spot where he bit me. “We mated.”

“We were both in ruts,” I pointed out.

“About how long ago was that?”

“Four months, give or take. Why does that matter?”

“Let me check something.” He grabbed his phone. “Your morning sickness would be almost over by now.”

I vigorously shook my head. “I don’t have morning sickness.”

“Think about it. It all adds up,” he said softly.

“Bauer, no,” I said firmly.

“I’m going to go buy you a test.”

“What? No. It’d be a waste of money.”

“Max, let me.”

“Fine,” I said. The tugging in my gut told me he might’ve been on to something and that I had been in denial for a long time.