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“You’re going to be fine.” I laugh at his nervous posture, holding the kitten like she’s precious cargo. “Just text me if you need anything.”
I swing open my door and am spooked for the second time tonight when I come face-to-face with Wyatt’s chest. I glance up and see his steely eyes shooting daggers at his brother behind me.
“What the fuck are you doing up here, Calder?” He seethes, his voice low and more threatening than I’ve ever heard.
Calder’s head snaps back. “What does it look like?”
Wyatt takes a big step into my apartment, pushing right past me. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“Whoa,” I exclaim, grabbing Wyatt’s wrist as he barrels toward his brother. “What the hell, Wyatt!”
He turns accusatory eyes on me. “What the hell, Trista?”
My jaw drops. Is he actually accusing me of messing around with his brother right now? Based on the crazed look in his eyes, that sure seems like what he’s thinking. Psycho, not sweet.
Calder clutches Milkshake, who’s now wide awake, to his chest. “I just came up to see Fuzz.”
“At almost ten o’clock at night.” Wyatt says it like a statement, not a question.
“Trista needed a shower,” Calder replies and then winces because that was not the right detail to share.
“And that involves you somehow?” Wyatt thunders, his temper boiling over as he butts chests with his brother.
“Stop!” I move to stand between the two of them, feeling small for quite possibly the only time in my life. I splay my hands out on their chests to back them away from each other before I turn to Calder. “Take Milkshake home, and let me know how she does for the night. I’ll deal with this.”
I shoot angry eyes at Wyatt, who stares Calder down as he makes his way out of my apartment. When I get the door closed, I turn my rage on the man whose baby lives inside me. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
Wyatt’s lip curls up as he looks down at me, his face stony serious. “Why are you half-naked with my brother at night?”
“Because I needed a shower, and he wanted to see the cat.”
“So you just showered with him in your place?” he bites back, his tone derogatory. “Don’t you think that’s kind of fucked up?”
“No, Wyatt,” I exclaim, stomping my foot. “It’s not like I left the door open for him to watch.” I eye him pointedly, and his gaze flickers at that innuendo. “I just got back from delivering a lamb, and he wanted to see the cat. I wanted a break, so it sounded nice to have someone give her some attention that wasn’t me for once.”
Wyatt blinks back his annoyance as his eyes drop to my belly. “You’re working too much.”
“Not this again,” I groan and turn to walk away from him. “Wyatt, I’m exhausted and don’t have the energy for you. I just want to lie inbed and watchHousewivesand maybe cry a little. My back and shoulders are killing me.”
“Why do you want to cry?” he asks, his tone softening instantly. His face morphs from angry, overprotective, overbearing mountain-man asshole to that same puppy dog look that Calder sported a moment ago. Apparently, it runs in the family.
I shrug and feel my chin begin to tremble as I ponder how to explain to him that watching that lamb be born tonight messed with my head and that being pregnant means that my brain can’t process everything because everything makes me tired. And being tired makes me feel sad. And feeling sad makes me want to cry. I answer, “Because I’m a cow.”
He sighs heavily and, without warning, eliminates the space between us and wraps me into a giant bear hug. His body radiates heat as I bury my face in his chest and inhale his mountain scent. This hug is one of those hugs that feel so good it almost hurts because you know the instant it’s over with, you’ll miss the feel of it. He rubs my damp hair, and I can feel his lips and nose press against my head, inhaling deeply before he murmurs, “I likeHousewives.”
“What?” I ask, pulling away and swiping at my errant tears.
“And I have strong hands.” He grabs my hand and walks us over to the bed before he kicks his boots off and hops under the covers. He positions his back against the headrest and opens his arms to me. “I’ve never given a girl a shoulder rub before, but I bet I’m pretty good at it. And no funny business, I promise.”
I stare at the giant bearded mountain man sitting on my bed, offering me a back rub. I should say no. This is intimate and nice and crossing all the boundaries that I was just bragging to Avery about earlier tonight. And with how he almost went nuclear on his brother a few minutes ago for just seeing me in a bathrobe, I should be seeing this as a giant red flag.
But truth be told, I’d take a back rub from a homeless person right now.
I crawl into the bed and lay my back against his front and enjoy the moment of comfort.He’s so big. So warm.But I’m not here for acuddle, so I lean forward to let the brawny man rub my back. When I slip my robe off my shoulders and hold it across my chest so I can give him better access, I feel a point of pressure against my lower back.
“Wyatt…” I state with a warning tone.
His voice is deep and husky in my ear when he replies, “Just call it lumbar support.”
