Page 80 of Paths
“Hey,” he interrupts my thoughts. “Don’t think about it. Whatever happens, I’m happy.”
He’s said that more times than I can count since last night, and I believe him. The more I let that settle, the more I’m unsure about myself. Last night, I freaked after our irresponsible first time together, but what I’m more worried about is that I’m not truly worried.
Worrying about not being worried might be even more stressful because who doesn’t worry about a pregnancy scare?
That’s not me, or at least it didn’t used to be. But this is the new me, who I’m pretty sure is engaged to a man I creeped on long before we barely spoke a word to one another. And to top it all off, I could be pregnant with his baby and not be in a panic about it.
Who the hell am I?
Now this is something for me to worry about.
I don’t tell him about my lack of worry about maybe being pregnant, because I’m afraid he’d jump me right here in the car. And I’d probably let him. And he probably wouldn’t use a condom. And even worse, I’m afraid I might be okay with it.
So instead of admitting to what a freak I’ve become, I say, “It could be a girl, you know.”
He smiles bigger. “I grew up with four sisters. The universe wouldn’t do that to me. It’ll be a boy.”
Holy shit, he really doesn’t mind if I’m pregnant.
Not knowing what to say, I do what I always do when I get nervous, and start to blather on without a filter. “But you don’t know where I am in my ovulation cycle. I don’t know if it’s true, but I’ve heard girl sperm swim faster than boy sperm. If I’m ovulating, it will most likely be a girl, if not, the boys have more of a chance to get there. They might be slow, but they live longer. But, if it’s all an old wives tale and the opposite is true, I’m still not quite sure where I am in my cycle, it’s not like I take my temperature every morning. So, who knows? What I do know is the universe has nothing to do with it.”
His smile grows into a devilish grin and he closes the distance between us, laying a hot, heavy kiss on me. Cupping the back of my head with his big hand, he kisses me possessively, but does it smiling the whole time.
Gah. Grady kissing me while smiling about his boy and girl sperm is too much.
I pull away from him and he smiles even bigger.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit.
He reaches for his door. “You should talk about my sperm and your ovulation cycle some more. I’m learning a lot.”
I get out and meet him at the back of the rental. Watching him lift the bags, I warn, “Be careful with your shoulder.”
He looks over, still smiling. In fact, I don’t ever remember him ever smiling this much. “You weren’t worried about my shoulder when I picked you up last night.”
Oh shit. He has a point.
“Come on.” He tips his head toward the office that’s attached to the hangar at the private airport. “The rental company is picking up the car here, we’re scheduled to leave in ten. We’re cutting it close.”
After he checks in at the desk, he hands our suitcases over to the same pilot who flew us here. I stand next to Grady, feeling guilty again about him paying for the private flight when there’s no way I can pay him back.
When he’s done, he takes my hand and leads me out the same door the pilot exited.
“You know,” he starts as he looks down at me with a smirk, “the flight’s long enough, I might tell the pilot we don’t want to be disturbed. It’ll be your choice if we use a condom or not.”
I shake my head, looking up to the gray winter sky, yet can’t keep from grinning as we walk to the plane. “You’re too much. The answer from now on is yes—”
But I don’t get to finish my sentence, because Grady yanks me to him with such force, it’s enough to take my breath away.
When I look up, his face has turned to stone as he stares over my head. He holds me to his side and his other arm comes up, elbow out.
I finally realize what’s going on, and see Byron, the old guy who works for Weston’s dad—the same one who showed up at the Ranch.
“Get her!” Byron yells, and I realize there’s a younger man, faster and in much better shape who I’ve never seen before. His dark hair is cut short, and he’s tall and fit. But his eyes are on me since he was given a directive.
My heart races, and I fist Grady’s shirt as he tries to maneuver me behind him.
Byron advances on Grady again right as the other guy reaches for my arm. He grabs my bicep and it makes me yelp in pain.
