Chapter 13

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

Two days later, Finley stepped back from the counter and tilted her head as she examined the cake she’d just finished decorating. It looked pretty damn good, if she did say so herself. It was for a four-year-old who was into the show Paw Patrol. Since Marshall was her favorite character, she made the cake in the shape of a firetruck.

Pulling out her phone, Finley took a picture and texted it to Caryn, who she knew would get a kick out of it. She wasn’t disappointed when she immediately messaged back.

Caryn: That’s awesome!!!!! You’re so making me one of those for my birthday!!!

Finley chuckled and carefully picked up the cake and moved it to the large refrigerator. After securing the cake for the mother to pick up later today, she arched her back and stretched. Her back was sore from decorating the cake, but she was also fairly sore all over. Brock was not a gentle lover…not that she wanted him to be. He wasn’t afraid to manhandle her where he wanted her, hold her tightly, and fuck her hard. And Finley loved every second. She also gave as good as she got, digging her nails into his arms or butt, and telling him exactly what she liked and wanted.

She felt like a completely different woman when she was with him. Sexy. Beautiful. Desired.

She had no problem with the lights being on now. How could she feel anything but pretty when he couldn’t keep his gaze or his hands off her?

“Please tell me the way you’re rubbing your belly means what I think it does,” Bristol said from the doorway of the kitchen, scaring the shit out of Finley.

She hadn’t realized she’d just been standing there, staring into space and caressing her stomach. She smiled at the diminutive woman. “Hi.”

“Don’t ‘hi’ me,” Bristol scolded with a smile. “Please tell me you’re pregnant.”

Finley shrugged. “I’m pregnant.”

Bristol squealed and rushed into the room. Her leg was finally healed after her ordeal with a stalker, and she was relishing the freedom of being able to move around without the knee walker she’d been using for months.

She hugged Finley tightly, then stood back and assessed her. “You look good.”

The compliment settled deep. She’d never been the kind of woman who received spontaneous compliments. She’d totally take it. “Thanks.”

“How far are you?”

“Not even two months yet,” Finley said. “Which is why we haven’t said anything.”

Bristol nodded. “I get it. But I have to say, I’m pretty thrilled I’m one of the first to know. Have you told Brock?”

“Of course. Although, he said he already knew.”

“Let me guess, because of the changes in your body?”

Finley blushed. “Uh-huh.”

Bristol beamed. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“Me too. I mean, I hadn’t thought much about kids. I’ve always liked and wanted them, but figured it was too late for that to happen. Not to mention I had to find a guy first,” Finley said dryly.

“Brock is definitely not messing around,” Bristol said.

Finley snorted. “Understatement of the century.”

“Does it bother you?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“Does what bother me?”

“How fast things are going with you guys? I mean, you’re living with him, pregnant, and I can’t see Brock not wanting to put a ring on your finger before your baby is born. He’s pretty much super alpha, like Rocky and all the other guys.”

“Honestly? It doesn’t feel like we’ve moved as fast as we have. I mean, I’ve had a crush on Brock for ages. How could I not? He’s everything I’ve ever wanted in a man. But I kept my feelings to myself. At least…I thought I had.”

“He knew you liked him,” Bristol said. “He was trying not to rush you. To give you time to get over your shyness with him.”

Finley nodded. “Yeah. So when I finally did let down my guard, take a chance, I already knew him pretty well. And apparently he knew me too.”

“Of course. We’d been talking you up as much as we could whenever we were around him.”

“We?” Finley asked.

“Lilly, Elsie, Caryn, and me.”

“Caryn practically threw him at me,” Finley said without heat. “When she was found out at that moonshine cabin, she immediately sent Brock to tell me what happened.”

“Yup. She’s pretty sneaky,” Bristol agreed with a smile. Then she sobered. “You two are more right for each other than any couple I’ve ever met. And that includes me and Rocky. You just click. It was obvious from the start. Your sweetness balances out his rough edges.”

“I’m not that sweet,” Finley grumbled.

“Riiiight. You give free cookies to all the kids who come into your shop. You supply cupcakes to kids at the elementary school whose parents can’t afford to do anything for them on their birthday. You—”

“Okay, okay, I’m the sugar plum fairy,” Finley said with an eye roll.

“All I’m saying is that you and Brock work. Really well. I’m so happy for the two of you…sorry…three of you,” Bristol said with a smile.

“Me too.”

“So…when’s the wedding?”

Finley laughed out loud. “We just had Lilly’s and yours is less than three weeks away. Everyone has to be wedding’d out by now.”

“Are you kidding? No way! What kind of wedding do you want? A big shindig? Something small? Or do you want to do what Elsie and Zeke did and just get it done quietly at the courthouse?”

Finley shrugged. “I haven’t thought about it much. Besides, he hasn’t even asked yet. I’m not putting the cart before the horse.” That was a little lie. She had thought about it. And while she’d loved every second of Lilly’s wedding, and knew Bristol’s would be just as awesome, that wasn’t for her. She didn’t like being the center of attention. And with her size, just the thought of wearing a huge, poufy wedding dress gave her hives. Of course, it didn’t have to be huge and poufy, but still.

“He’s gonna ask. Like I said before, there’s no way Brock Mabrey is gonna let that baby be born without you wearing his ring.”

Finley’s hand went to her belly again. “I want this baby,” she whispered. “So much.”

Bristol came closer and put her hand over Finley’s on her stomach. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m almost forty,” Finley whispered. “Women have miscarriages all the time. I just…I don’t want to lose this Little Bean.”

Bristol smiled at the nickname but didn’t comment on it. “I wish I knew the right thing to say here. I’m probably going to muck this up, but here goes. You can’t control Mother Nature, Finley. Losing a child has to be one of the most devastating things a woman could ever go through. But you have to trust that whatever happens is what’s supposed to happen. You’re healthy, you don’t take risks. I hope and pray that everything turns out all right with your baby, but you know what? If the worst happens, Brock will always be by your side. He’ll hold you when you cry and celebrate your victories. All you have to do is trust him to be there for you.”

“Thank you,” Finley whispered.

They hugged once more, and Finley did her best to control her tears. That was another thing that had changed when she got pregnant. She cried at the drop of a hat. She also got mad much more easily as well. In fact, all her emotions seemed supercharged. Of course, when she complained about it to Brock, he simply shrugged and told her it was a part of her charm.

“When you feel comfortable, and after you share with everyone, I’m totally throwing you a baby shower. Complete with all the silly games people play at those things. Wait—Lilly’s preggo too! You guys are only…what? A few weeks apart? This is gonna be so awesome! Double baby shower! Your kids will grow up together. Maybe they can date and end up getting married someday!”

Finley couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Slow your roll there, Bristol.”

They both laughed. Then Bristol asked, “Are you going to find out the gender?”

“Oh, um…honestly, I hadn’t thought about it. I’ll have to ask Brock what he wants.”

“He’s gonna want to know,” Bristol said firmly.

“You think?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s gonna need some time to process if it’s a girl. Can you imagine how overprotective he’s gonna be? His daughter will have him wrapped around her finger for sure.”

Bristol wasn’t wrong. Finley could imagine Brock’s reaction to having their Little Bean being a girl. She’d be a total daddy’s girl…one who would probably be able to put an engine together by the time she was four. She smiled.

“Right. I’m so happy for you, Finley. Seriously. You and Brock are utterly adorable together.”

Adorable. Finley almost laughed at the word. A memory from yesterday flashed through her mind. Brock had been behind her while she’d been on her hands and knees in front of a huge mirror he’d bought days earlier. He’d been taking her hard—and he’d slapped her ass.

Apparently, he’d felt her delighted reaction around his cock, because he’d done it again. And again. Then he’d used his thumb to caress her ass while his other hand rubbed her clit as he fucked her—all the while, staring at their erotic reflection in the mirror. After she exploded, he pulled out and came all over her ass, rubbing it into her skin as he praised her. Telling her how beautiful she was and how he was the luckiest man alive.

Yeah. Adorable was the last word she’d use to describe her man. Intense, sexy, demanding, insatiable? Yes. Adorable, no.

Bristol chuckled as if she could read Finley’s mind. “I said together you two are adorable. Now get your mind out of the gutter.”

Finley laughed.

“I did have a reason for stopping by,” Bristol said with a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. A photographer from National Geographic is coming to town to take pictures of the stained glass I made for Sunny Side Up. I got with Sandra, and she’s going bring back her Bigfoot-themed menu. She agreed to donate one hundred percent of the proceeds for the day the photographer is here, to an animal charity in Africa. One that’s trying to keep rhinos and elephants safe from poachers who want their tusks. Anyway, I wondered if you might be willing to make some Bigfoot cookies to sell as well?”

“Yes!” Finley said without having to think about it. Then she frowned. “But I’d have to research how to decorate them so they’d look cool and not stupid.”

“Your cookies could never look stupid,” Bristol said.

“Ha. You’re sweet, but trust me, baking is actually a lot easier than decorating.”

“I have faith in you.”

They spent a few more minutes talking about the details, how many cookies she should make, when the pictures of her stained glass would be featured by the world-famous magazine, and more about the charity the money would go to. By the time they were done, Finley’s mind was spinning and she’d decided to make elephant and rhinoceros cookies, as well as the Bigfoot ones.

When three o’clock rolled around and the shop closed up, Finley was more than ready to leave. She couldn’t wait to talk to Brock about the photographer coming to town and her ideas for the cookies. She had two more custom orders she needed to get done by tomorrow afternoon, but her desire to see Brock outweighed her desire to get a head start on the projects. She’d still have plenty of time to get them finished before her clients came to pick up the goodies.

Liam walked Finley to her car when she was ready. She was well aware that Brock had talked to her employee and asked him to make sure she made it to her vehicle safely, whenever Brock couldn’t. He’d backed off his hovering ever since she’d told him he was suffocating her, but deep down, she didn’t mind him wanting to make sure she was safe.

Thinking about what could’ve happened in the forest with Pete and Cory was scary. It had been a close call, and Finley was more than happy for something like that to never happen again. Her friends had all proven to be extremely tough, but deep down, Finley knew she wasn’t like that. If she’d been in any of the situations that Lilly, Elsie, Bristol, or Caryn had been in, she probably would’ve freaked out and definitely not handled it nearly as well as they had.

So Brock asking Liam to walk her to her car made Finley feel protected in a less-paranoid way. Having one of the Eagle Point SAR team members sit outside her shop all day, as if they were afraid the boogeyman was going to leap out from behind a rock, was suffocating. She was glad Brock finally understood the difference.

Finley waved at Liam and pulled out of the parking lot and headed for Old Town Auto. Another change thanks to the little life forming deep within her womb was that Finley was horny all the time. She’d gone online to see if what she was feeling was normal, and was relieved to find that it was. Most of the women on the forums she’d found said their libidos seemed to taper off eventually as their pregnancies progressed.

Of course, Brock had no issues whatsoever with her increased sexuality. He reveled in it. Encouraged her to let loose in their bedroom…and anywhere else in their house, for that matter. And she knew that anytime she wanted sex, day or night, he was more than willing to accommodate.

Squirming in her seat, Finley pulled into the auto shop. She should really leave Brock alone. He was working. She could go home and masturbate. But she didn’t want to do that. She wanted her man.

Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the car and headed for the open bay. Brock was bent over the front of a vehicle, his perfect ass outlined in the overalls he wore, and she could see his left arm flexing as he did something under the hood.

Her nipples tightened and wetness flooded her panties. She didn’t even have a chance to get embarrassed by her arousal. As if he could sense her standing there, Brock’s head popped around the side of the hood.

He took one look at her and turned his head to yell, “Jesus!”

His partner stuck his head out of the door to their office, off to the left. “Yeah?”

“I’m headed out,” Brock said as he wiped his hands on a rag hanging over the side of the car.

“Okay!”

“I’ll finish up the Abernathys’ car in the morning.”

“Ten-four.”

Then Brock stalked toward Finley, and all she could do was stare at him and do her best not to drool. When he reached her, he leaned down, and Finley could smell oil, sweat, and a hint of the soap he’d used in the shower that morning.

“You need your man?” he asked huskily.

Her belly clenched and she nodded.

He lifted a hand and wrapped it around her nape, pulling her against him roughly, and Finley let out a small oof as she hit his rock-hard body. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. You have flour in your hair and you smell like,” he lowered his head to the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply, “sugar.”

She smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and surreptitiously rubbed her breasts against his chest. “I should, since I’ve been frosting cookies all afternoon.”

His free hand smoothed down her back to her ass, and he clutched the ample flesh there firmly. “Hard and fast, or soft and slow?” he asked against her lips.

Finley flushed. She was practically panting as she said, “Hard and fast. I need you, Brock.”

Without another word, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the side of the building, where his truck was parked. Finley grinned as she did her best to keep up with him. She loved when he got like this. She wouldn’t have minded a quickie right there at his shop, but he’d told her in no uncertain terms that he would never disrespect her by fucking her where someone could walk in and see them. She was his alone, and no one was going to see what was his.

The drive to his place took way too long, despite being less than five minutes. Finley squirmed in her seat the entire time. The second he turned off the engine in his driveway, Brock pulled her across the seat and toward the house.

Two seconds after the door shut behind them, he pounced. He stripped her right there in the entryway, shoved his pants down just far enough to expose his rock-hard cock, and entered her in one deep thrust.

Finley screamed with pleasure. She’d been ready for him, but he was still big, and when he filled her, the slight pinch only increased her desire. He took her right there against the wall, making her feel small and petite as he towered over her.

After they’d both come, he picked her up and carried her into the living room. He settled her on the couch, then went to his knees in front of her. He shoved her legs apart with his shoulders and stared at her pussy for a long moment.

“Brock?” Finley panted.

“You’ll never know how damn sexy this is,” he told her as he used a finger to swipe at his come that was leaking out of her body. “Knowing we made a life together? I can’t explain how in awe I am.” Then he straightened on his knees, pulled her ass to the edge of the couch, and eased himself inside her once again.

“That first one take the edge off, baby?” he asked, as he lazily pumped in and out of her.

Finley nodded.

“Good. I need a shower.”

She smiled up at him. He did. But she loved him like this. All sweaty and manly. His stained hands on her body. He was so different from her, and she loved that. He used to overwhelm her with his raw masculinity. She thought she could never be enough for someone like him. But now she realized that their differences complemented each other perfectly.

“After,” she panted as he began to thrust faster.

He grinned at her, then got serious as he did his best to make sure she was satisfied.

Later, after he’d made her come twice more, filling her to the brim again, after a shower, and after he’d insisted she sit on the couch and relax while he grilled some pork chops for dinner, she was snuggled up against his side while a football game played on the television.

“Brock?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to know the gender of our baby?”

He looked down at her. “Do you?”

“I think it might be kind of cool for it to be a surprise. But that’s a pain. We wouldn’t know what to put on a baby registry, and we’d have to think up two names just in case.”

“As far as the baby registry goes, does it really matter if it’s a boy or a girl?” he asked. “We can put green, yellow, purple, magenta, and who the hell else cares what color clothes and toys in there. The baby isn’t going to give a shit what color their pajamas are. They’re just going to sleep, eat, and poop.”

“You wouldn’t care if your son wore pink?” she asked.

“Fuck no. Clothes don’t make the man, or woman,” he said with uncanny insight. “My daughter can wear whatever color she wants. Blue, purple, pink, or yellow with orange polka dots. If my son wants to play with dolls and be a ballet dancer, I don’t give a fuck. All I want is for him or her to be a good person, and to be happy. All I want is for you to be happy.”

Tears filled Finley’s eyes.

“Don’t cry,” he ordered.

She smiled. “Can’t help it. You’re being awesome.”

“Of course I am, that shouldn’t be a surprise.”

She laughed at that, and he smiled at her. “There. Better,” he said when her tears dried up. Then he caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “If you want Little Bean’s gender to be a surprise, that’s what we’ll do.”

“But what do you want?” she insisted.

“Like I just said—I want you to be happy. I want you to give birth safely without any complications. I want us to be a family. I want world peace, but that’s not something I have any say in, so I’ll have to be content with making sure my woman and Little Bean are both as safe and happy as they can be.”

“Brock,” she whispered.

“We’ll keep it a surprise for now. If you change your mind anytime in the next several months, then we’ll ask Doc to let us know.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay.”

Finley snuggled into him and sighed happily. This was what she’d always wanted. To love and be loved. Loved for who she was, and not because of what she looked like or what her profession was or anything else. She had a feeling Brock felt the same way.

Picking up one of his hands, she kissed each of his stained fingers before resting her head back against his chest. He squeezed her tightly, then relaxed into the cushions.

* * *

Hillary Kendall, simply known as “The Boss” to the small-time dealers she worked with and the junkies she sold to, paced back and forth in her living room.

She was pissed. Infuriated. So angry she couldn’t see straight.

That dumb fucking bitch ruined the good thing she’d had going!

Five years ago, when Hillary had knee surgery, she hadn’t thought the procedure would be a big deal. After several complications, and months of painkillers, her knee had finally healed. But not before she’d become dependent on the pills her doctor had prescribed.

At first, it was difficult to sneak around behind her husband’s and kids’ backs to get the pills she needed to function. Long drives to Roanoke to meet with shady people in dark alleys. But before long, she’d made better connections, and she only had to drive to the rest area east of Fallport, by the interstate.

Then she’d been offered a chance to sell pills in Fallport herself.

She’d jumped at the opportunity.

Ever since, she’d lived a double life. PTA member, highly involved with her daughter’s classes, volunteering at the school, coaching her son’s little league team. Even while running her own small drug empire and making money hand over fist, she hadn’t missed a football game in the two years since Robert had entered high school. And her daughter Nevaeh was the most popular kid in seventh grade.

Her husband still didn’t suspect a thing. Didn’t care what she did, as long as dinner was ready when he got home, the house was clean, and his kids excelled at school.

But everything was on the verge of collapse. All because of that stupid baker bitch.

All Pete and Cory had to do was scare her badly enough so she’d keep her fucking mouth shut. But they’d failed spectacularly. The day after she and that greasy mechanic had been rescued from the woods, she’d gone straight to the police with the license plate number of her supplier’s truck.

Pete and Cory both left town, but it was only a matter of time before the cops tracked them down. She had no doubt they’d sing like canaries. Snitching on her and the entire operation. Dumbass Pete had used that satellite phone, and while no one had come knocking on her door wanting to know why a druggie who’d kidnapped a woman and threatened her life had called a phone she’d bought a year ago, she wasn’t stupid. She knew how forensics and phone tracing went. She watched all those crime shows on TV.

She’d done her best to cover her tracks when she’d bought the phones, using cash, buying them in Roanoke…but she couldn’t do anything about the cameras at the convenience store where she bought the burners. And the fucking cell towers the phones pinged off. It was only a matter of time before the police chief tracked back far enough and came knocking on her door, wanting to talk to her.

But Hillary wasn’t going down before getting revenge on the bitch who’d made her entire life crash and burn.

Her supplier in Roanoke was pissed that he’d had to ditch the truck he’d stolen, that the people she’d hired had been so stupid and careless. He’d cut her off completely. All her customers had found someone else to buy from, but worse…she wasn’t getting the pills she needed to function and keep up appearances.

Two weeks ago, she’d been in Roanoke, trying yet again to find another source, when someone had offered her heroin. She knew she shouldn’t do it…but she’d been utterly desperate.

The peace that had filled her that first time was euphoric. Like nothing she’d ever known. Ten times better than the feeling she got from pills.

She’d bought what she assumed would be enough to hold her over until she could get to Roanoke again.

She’d used all of it in less than three days.

Hillary seethed as she paced. She was now one of those people. A scumbag drug addict. While taking pills, she’d found a warped sense of comfort in the fact that she was using legal drugs. Something that had been prescribed by her doctor.

But now that she’d been doing heroin several times a day, every day, for the last two weeks, drained several grand from their bank account—which her husband would notice soon—missed two football games, and had forgotten to pick up Nevaeh from school three days in a row because she’d been scouring Fallport to find someone who’d sell her some heroin, Hillary knew she was on the brink of losing everything. Her husband would divorce her, she’d lose custody of her kids, and she’d have to resort to living on the streets like that pathetic fucker Davis Woolford.

And it was Finley Norris’s fucking fault!

The bitch was going to pay.

She thought her life was so perfect? She was about to find out how quickly a perfect life could fall apart…just like Hillary’s had.

Grimacing, she stopped pacing and turned to head toward the garage. She had a meeting with a guy who’d promised her the best black tar heroin she’d ever get her hands on. She didn’t give a shit about the quality, she just needed the high.

Ignoring the pile of laundry that needed to be done, the dishes in the sink, and the empty dog dish, Hillary left the house. Fuck it. She wasn’t a slave. Her family could do shit for themselves for once! She had people to meet…and revenge plans to make.