Page 46 of Kicking Up Dust

“Nothing, dear. What would you like for breakfast?” June asks.

It’s ridiculous that her dismissal irritates me. I barely know these people. What if I’m just missing something strictly because I don’t know them well enough to know some sort of inside joke they’re sharing? What if today’s some sort of special day I don’t know about?

But all of the secrecy and giggles are making me feel like I felt after my foster brother ruined my reputation in front of the whole school, and pregnancy hormones are making it worse. Tate laughs again a few minutes later when I moan around a forkful of scrambled eggs, and it has me ready to scream.

“What?” I seethe, trying my best to remain calm. I don’t want to tick off Colt’s family. I have a feeling it wouldn’t end well for me.

“Nothing, dear,” June says again. “Tate, go to work.”

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” I ask a bit louder than necessary.

“Ope, gotta go.” Kenny jumps up and abandons ship.

Finally, Bailey takes pity on me, though I think I should’ve just let June brush everything under the rug.

“We heard you last night.”

“What?” I ask about two seconds before it dawns on me what she means. “Oh my god.”

“Bailey, I told you all not to bring it up!”

“Mama, she was about to burn the house down with her glare, thinking we’re making fun of her or something. I wouldn’t want a bunch of busybodies giggling about me either if I was her.”

“Oh my god,” I whimper again, hiding my face in my folded arms on the table.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear. We weren’t laughing at you,” June insists, coming over to rub my upper back. “Pregnancy hormones are crazy. I’ve got six kids, I would know.”

“I am so sorry,” I tell her, pulling my head up and turning toward her. “I had no idea. I tried to be quiet.”

Bailey snorts behind me.

“If you were sleeping with anyone but my twin brother, I’d have to commend you for finding a guy that made you moan that loud even though you were ‘trying to be quiet.’”

“Okay, that’s enough of that. Bailey, off to work with you. Blair, honey, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Finish your breakfast and then we’re going to go find that son of mine and steal his wallet for the day.”

“Steal his wallet?” I ask, slightly concerned by the idea of a heist.

But she just hums. “If you’re up for making the drive again, we’re going to head back into Billings. Get you a massage and a pregnancy pillow at the very least.”

“Oh, no, it’s completely fine,” I try to argue, but she shoots me a look that tells me to hush and eat my breakfast.

“If my son was here late enough every morning to see the way you waddle and wince down those stairs, he would’ve already thrown his wallet at me and begged me to fix it. He’ll be happy as a clam to finally have a reason to spoil you, don’t you worry,” she says, starting on the dishes. I try to eat quicker so I can help.

“You think so?” I ask, to keep the conversation flowing. “He has been really kind throughout this whole thing.” Kind is an understatement, but saying “attentive” after she heard just how attentive her son could be seemed like the wrong call.

June snorts. “You should’ve seen him when he came home to get things settled in those weeks before you got here. I felt like I needed to put him back on his old backpack leash from when he was a toddler. He almost bought everything for your future nursery until I reminded him you’d probably want a say in what everything looked like.”

Shit, I haven’t even thought of a nursery. Or much of anything except the here and now. I was anxious over just about everything in my life, but this pregnancy seemed to be different somehow. Women had given birth for hundreds of thousands of years. We were designed to do it. I was probably the least anxious I’d ever been in my entire life.

Colt was usually the anxious one when it came to all of this, like June had implied.

I finish my breakfast and help out at the sink, despite June’s best efforts to nag me into sitting down.

June calls Maddox to ask where he’s got Colt working as we climb into her truck—instead of calling Colt directly, which I don’t really understand, but I suppose Maddox is the boss of the ranch.

“Hello?” he answers gruffly, the call broadcast over the truck’s Bluetooth. The sound of some sort of machine or motor hums in the background on his end.

“Hey, sweetheart. Where do you have Colton today?”