Chapter Seven

“Cheers to Team XX,” Bridget said from the opposite side of the hot tub built into the back patio of the Shanahan family home and held up a glass of red wine for a group toast. The churning water bubbled around her shoulders.

“Cheers,” Izzy echoed and leaned forward from her corner of the tub to tap glasses.

Lilah swallowed a mouthful of brownie, added her slightly muffled, “Cheers,” from her perch on the edge of the tub, and leaned in to offer her chocolate-covered fork for the toast. Content in the fifty-degree air with her legs dangling in the bubbling water, a long poncho over her T-shirt, and a to-go container from The Goose full of Ford’s world-famous chocolate chunk brownie in her lap, she smiled at her teammates. “I’m eating way more than my fair share of this. Are you sure you don’t want any?” She held the container toward Izzy and Bridget.

They both shook their heads. “We get to indulge in the wine and a full-body soak,” Bridget pointed out. “All you’ve got for the next little while is chocolate. Enjoy it.”

“I’m going to be fat,” she replied but stuffed another incredible bite into her mouth.

“Weight gain goes with the whole having-a-baby deal,” Izzy said.

“I’m going to be more than pregnant.” She ate another bite of brownie and circled her empty fork in front of herself from neck to hips. “Fat.”

“You’re eating for two,” Izzy justified, her big, brown eyes sparkling in the soft lights scattered around the patio.

“Tonight, I’m eating for four.”

“How do you figure?” Bridget asked and sipped her wine.

She pointed her fork at Izzy. “One,” then at Bridget, “two,” then at herself, “three” and at her belly, “four.”

Izzy laughed. “Okay, maybe you are getting more than a double serving, but hey, we’re celebrating.”

“Damn right,” Bridget agreed and lifted her glass again. “And as much as I love hanging out with you girls no matter what the activity, I’d much rather be here, doing this, than over at The Goose trying to learn the difference between a garter stich and a stockinette.”

“It’s not so hard,” Lilah insisted, but a mental picture of those big, manly men sitting together, fumbling through their first efforts, made her smile. “All it takes is a good set of instructions, some time to devote to learning, and little patience.”

“Yeah, that last part? Not my strong suit.”

“I actually do want to learn,” Izzy said, “but now’s not the time. Between getting up to speed on Hoop’s law practice and studying for the bar exam—”

“And learning how to win at paintball,” Bridget added.

“And that,” she acknowledged, “my brain is full.”

Lilah nodded. “I can teach you whenever you want. You both must be really relieved we didn’t lose today.”

Izzy gave a cocky shrug. “I knew we’d win.”

“Me, too,” Bridget said.

“You two never had a doubt? I did. You’re a great shot,” she said to Bridget, “but Izzy and I are…” She lifted her hand, palm down, and rocked it back and forth like a canoe on a lake in the sign for “so-so.” “How were you so sure?”

Bridget and Izzy glanced at each other like co-conspirators. Both women wore distinctly sly smiles.

“What?” Lilah asked, looking from one to the other, feeling like the slow child in class.

“We had it won as soon as Izzy picked their team,” Bridget said.

“Because Trace would never shoot Izzy?” Lilah guessed.

“Hey.” Bridget narrowed her eyes. “Are you suggesting Archer would shoot me?”

Lilah stifled a smile and returned Bridget’s glare with wide-eyed sincerity. “I think he might.”

“Oh, please.” She laughed. “He totally would. And Trace would shoot Izzy, too. He’s a competitive bastard when it comes to a bet. Which is why we resorted to the age-old distraction of T&A,” she admitted without shame. “All’s fair in love and war, and we had to eliminate Archer and Trace without any enemy paint landing on you.”

“Me? Really? Up until Ford took Izzy out, I thought she was going to capture the flag.”

“Uh-uh.” Bridget leaned forward and pointed at her. “No, young padawan. It was always going to come down to you. You and Ford.”

“But…why?” For some silly reason, her heart started to beat a little faster.

Izzy and Bridget exchanged that look again. “Because,” Izzy said, “Ford would never shoot you.”

She stared at her friends for a stunned moment, then let out a weak laugh. “Oh, right. Because I’m pregnant.”

“Eh.” Bridget’s noncommittal reply kicked her heart rate up another notch. “That factored, sure, but…” Bridget scanned her face, almost searching. “Do you really not know?”

Her pulse started to echo in her ears. She closed the brownie box and set it aside. “Know what?”

“Bridget.” The low warning came from Izzy. “Don’t meddle.”

A thought suddenly struck. “Oh. You mean because of his past? Yes, I do know about that. I didn’t realize you knew, but of course you do. You and Ford are good friends. And I see what you’re getting at. He feels protective of me, because of Mia.”

Bridget’s mildly exasperated expression clouded with confusion. “Who’s Mia?”

Huh? “Mia’s the baby.”

Now her friend’s eyes widened, and she jumped up. “Oh my God! You found out the sex—I knew it was a girl. I had an inside track on that. You’re naming the baby Mia?”

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she covered her stomach with both hands. “No, I don’t know what I’m having, and I haven’t decided on names yet. Mia is…”

“It’s a pretty name,” Izzy said, suddenly talking fast and bright. “I love it. Definitely keep it at the top of the girl names list. I could use more wine. Bridget, how ’bout you? More wine?”

“Uh, sure. I left the bottle on the counter in the kitchen.”

“Come with me. I want to bring water for all of us, too, but I can’t carry everything.”

“Don’t get out.” Lilah started to rise. “I’m the driest. I’ll take care of it.”

“No. No.” Izzy was already scrambling to the side, pulling Bridget with her. “You’re not on the clock at The Goose. You sit and enjoy a privilege of pregnancy—people waiting on you.”

The next thing she knew, her friends were out of the tub, wrapped in towels, and heading through the white French doors into the house. “Hang tight,” Bridget called from the door. “Be right back. Here.” She held the door open a moment longer to let the Shanahan’s Husky-Malamute mix dart through. “Key will keep you company.”

“Ri-rah!” he barked and bounded to where she sat.

“Hi, K’eyush. Hi.” Laughing, she evaded the wettest of his kisses and rubbed his cheeks. “How’s my handsome fellow?”

“Ri-raaaah.” He sort-of whimpered her name that time, turned in two quick circles, and then lay down next to her with his big, fluffy head in her lap. He turned it abruptly, booped her belly with his nose, and howled, “Aaay.”

“Yes.” When he settled his head in her lap again, she folded one hand over her belly, scratched around his ears with the other, and watched the steam rise from the water. “That’s Shay’s baby. You’re a smart boy, aren’t you?”

Honestly, the dog had been the first to know, after Shay himself. She remembered Key running up to her from the kennel at the inn after Shay’s funeral, stopping short and staring at her for a long, silent moment with his head cocked, then lifting his nose to the ceiling and howling Aaay in such an insistent way. At the time, she’d simply thought he was crying for his daddy, as Key had been Shay’s, but as time passed, she’d come to realize that he’d somehow sensed the life inside her—maybe heard the little heartbeat with his keen ears or smelled the new combination of DNA—and recognized Shay’s part in it.

Those plaintive howls hadn’t done much to bolster her confidence in her ability to keep the pregnancy under wraps until she figured out what the hell she was going to do, but the dog had turned out to be more perceptive than most of the humans around her by a good six months.

Two humans she credited with better-than-average perception returned to the patio, carrying refilled wineglasses, bottles of water, and extra towels. Bridget handed a fresh bottle of water to her before placing her own water and wine on the surround and lowering to sit on Key’s other side, dangling her legs in the tub. “Whew.” She looked up at the dark, starless sky, extended her long, toned arms toward it in a lazy stretch. “I need a break from the heat.”

“Not me.” Izzy arranged her drinks, dropped her towel, and slid back into the tub, closing her eyes as the warm water surrounded her. “I love Captivity, but I do miss endless sunshine and spring temps in the high seventies.”

Lilah couldn’t imagine but still sympathized. As a native of southern Nevada, transplanted to Los Angeles for college and career, Izzy’s blood hadn’t yet had much of a chance to thicken.

“No sunshine for you,” Bridget warned, now eyeing the dense, dark sky. “I spy rainclouds up there. My inner Doppler predicts a spring soaker before sunrise.”

Izzy opened her eyes and looked at Bridget. “How long will it last?”

Bridget shrugged. “Could stick around for days. It may not be tropical, baby, but you’re living in a rainforest.”

Izzy made a sad face but then found herself a bright side. “Nature’s providing me with study weather.”

“There you go,” Bridget agreed. “Hard rain with high winds will throw a wrench in the flight schedules at the airfield, which will make things hectic for a minute. It also means Trace will have unscheduled downtime. He’ll be prowling around here, looking for something to do.” Her gaze sharpened on Izzy. “Or someone to do.”

Izzy smiled, a little dreamily. “Best kind of study break.”

“Yeah.” Bridget braced her hands behind her, leaned back, and resumed her cloud-gazing. “If I’m grounded, that means Archer will be grounded, too. Hmm.” She grinned at the sky. “How will we manage to fill the time?”

Lilah’s hormones flared enviously. Those chemical messengers knew exactly how she’d be spending her free time—knitting—and their message was a strident, “We demand some action, too!” She might have laughed at her pathetic state, if the urge to burst into tears wasn’t so strong. She closed her eyes and willed her self-pity away. In the process, she must have made some sort of sound, because when she opened her eyes, both Izzy and Bridget stared at her.

Bridget broke the silence. “You’re not about to have a baby, are you?”

Those darn hormones sent heat rushing to her cheeks. “No. Nothing like that. It’s just…nothing.” She couldn’t talk about this.

Bridget unwrapped her towel and slid into the water. Stretching her arms along the edge of the tub, she tipped her head back and closed her eyes. “You know, Izzy, when my dear friend Lilah told me she was pregnant, I read up on that, so I could understand some of the stuff she’d go through.”

“Did you?” Izzy smiled gently at Lilah before shifting her attention to Bridget. “What sort of stuff?”

Bridget lifted her head, getting into her topic. “Well, the whole thing is crazy-amazing. The female bod is a biological marvel, when you get right down to it. I mean, I had a grasp of the basics, but it’s so much more nuanced and sophisticated than I ever appreciated. Almost every single body system undergoes some sort of change designed to support the fetus or endures a side effect caused by another body system supporting it.”

Izzy frowned. “Like morning sickness?”

“Exactly. But I already knew about the morning sickness side effect, and the food cravings—like the sudden need to eat an entire chocolate chunk brownie in one sitting.” Both sets of eyes shifted her way. “But wanna know another fun fact I picked up during my research?”

“I’m dying to know.” She winked at Lilah, who had the unsettling feeling she was being gently herded to a destination only she couldn’t see.

“Food cravings aren’t the only—or even the strongest—cravings a pregnant woman might experience.”

“You don’t say.”

“I don’t. Science says,” Bridget insisted. “Many pregnant women experience a significant increase in…ah…horniness.”

Lilah again found herself the target of two sets of eyes, just in time for a three-alarm fire to burn her cheeks and forehead.

“That doesn’t sound like a scientific term,” Izzy said.

“The scientist might have used the term increased libido, but it comes down to the same thing. Your system wants sex. A lot of sex. And it wants it now. For the endorphins, for bonding, to help you relax, to help you sleep…yada, yada, yada…all kinds of scientific reasons. Bottom line? It’s normal to feel a little on the horny side during pregnancy.”

Face aflame, she concentrated on running her hand down Key’s flank, sending fluffs of fur dancing into the air as he blew his coat for warmer weather. “I’m not normal.”

“No?” Bridget asked.

“Uh-uh.” Inhaling deeply, she raised her head to face her friends. “I am way above normal,” she admitted, feeling her face glow even hotter. “It’s like a nagging appetite I can never quite satisfy.”

Bridget turned, folded her arms over the edge of the tub, and rested her chin on her crossed wrists. “Good news, Lilah. You live in pretty much an all-you-can-eat buffet of available guys. Who’s making you hungriest?”

Oh, Lord. Were they really going to go there? “Nobody,” she lied. “It’s an unspecified craving.”

“Awesome. That means your options for satisfying it are wide open. Mad’s available—”

“Not Mad.” The words popped out instinctively.

“Why not? He’s unattached, easy on the eyes, safe without exception despite being a something of a manwhore. He loves women—short, tall, curvy, slim—and to be blunt, he knows how to show a girl a good time,” Bridget went on as if they were discussing the right person to tune up her car’s engine. She spoke from experience, too, as she and Mad had shown each other many good times before Archer had reappeared on Bridget’s horizon.

“I don’t know why not.” She raised her hands in helpless frustration, then let them drop. “It’s nothing against him. I just…I don’t look at him that way.” And she wasn’t explaining herself right. Her objection wasn’t specific to Mad.

Bridget lifted a naked shoulder and let it drop. “Wing, then. Also easy on the eye, and full of enthusiasm. He’s a little immature, but I bet you’d be able to tell him exactly what to do and exactly where, how, and when to do it.”

“Neither. No one.” This conversation had to end before it turned to…anyone else. But she wanted to end it without insulting Izzy, who had originally come to town with the unsentimental secret agenda of going wild in Captivity, sexually speaking, or Bridget, who had, for a period of time, designated sex her favorite sport in an effort to forget about Archer. For herself, sadly, it wasn’t so easy to separate act from emotion. Maybe her single encounter with Shay had mostly been an impulse on his part and an act of rebellion on hers, but she’d had special feeling for him, and those had mattered. A lot.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’re both trying to be helpful and logical, but I don’t look at Wing that way, either. I guess don’t look at myself that way. Shay was my first, and my only. Just the one time—and yes, I know every girl in my position swears it was just the one time—but for us, it really was. I don’t know how to put this, but I don’t think I’ve…evolved…to the point I’m ready to tap a handy guy on the shoulder and, say, ‘Hey, want to—’”

“Don’t apologize.” Izzy leaned over and patted her knee. “You put it just perfectly. You prefer sex to be about more than scratching an itch. You’d like it to be supported by how you feel about the person and how he feels about you. Neither way is wrong, as far as I’m concerned, but having experienced it both ways, I can tell you, I agree. It’s better with the feelings. If that’s what you need, you should hold out for the whole package.”

“How about Ford?” Bridget went on, obviously determined to solve this problem for her.

“Oh, no…no, no.” A kind of fizzy panic exploded inside her, making it impossible to stay still. She got to her feet, paced right, turned, paced left, and caught the look Bridget and Izzy exchanged. What she should make of it, she didn’t know, except they’d definitely shared some sort of unspoken accord. “Ford’s extremely nice, but—”

“Nice”—Bridget documented the trait with an extended index finger—“smart” —she extended another finger—“hot, reliable, funny”—her fingers ticked off his finer qualities. “Shoot, he takes two hands,” she complained and brought the fingers of her left hand into play. “Protective, as you’ve already noted, not immature, hard-working, solvent, and…” She raised her last finger. “Did I already say hot?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, you did,” Izzy confirmed. “But with Ford, it bears repeating.”

“Agreed. Also, I should add, an excellent kisser.”

Lilah’s mind time-traveled back to the night Bridget and Ford had kissed in front of God and everyone at The Goose and wished the memory didn’t make her want to tackle her lifelong friend.

“So,” Bridget continued, and Lilah became the target of a razor-sharp gaze, “what about Ford?”

The geyser of panic went off again, forcing an awkward denial to her lips. “Not Ford. He…I… He let me stay with him, yes, and he’s so…” At a loss for words, she instinctively moved her hands and embarrassed herself further by tracing an imaginary set of broad shoulders. Ack. She was out of control. Yanking her hands back and lacing her fingers, she shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?” Bridget pressed, but Lilah saw what looked like compassion in her expression.

“Because.” She shook her head again but finally resorted to the God’s honest truth, or at least one part of it. “He’d never think of me that way.”

Was that the right answer? The wrong answer? She didn’t know. All she knew was Izzy and Bridget exchanged that look again. A look that made her insides jittery. Very jittery.

Boy, did she wish she understood that look.