27. Penny
Chapter 27
Penny
Tripp walked through the front door to the cabin and stopped short. Eyes surveying the mess set before him—dozens of shopping bags surrounding large brown boxes containing baby furniture—he asked, “Whoa, what happened in here?”
Exhausted, I flopped onto the couch with a huff. “Our mothers.”
“Ah, that tracks.” He nodded with a knowing grin while approaching where I lay sprawled out. With a tap to my feet, Tripp commanded, “Lift up.”
I pulled my knees up as far as my six-month-pregnant belly would allow to move my feet out of the way so my husband could join me on the loveseat that was far too small for the two—well, technically three—of us.
As soon as he was seated, I stretched my legs across his lap. He leaned forward slightly to drop a large roll of paper on the coffee table, but before I could ask about it, I was distracted by the firm press of thumbs into the arch of my foot.
My eyes slid closed, and my head dropped back on a moan. “Fuck, that feels good. ”
“You’d tell me if you were overdoing it, right?”
I cracked one eyelid open. “It was just shopping, baby.”
He hummed his displeasure. “Pretty sure anything you bought today could have been purchased online and shipped directly to the ranch. Soon as I walked in the door, I could see how exhausted you are. I have half a mind to wring our mamas’ necks for wearing you out. They should know better.”
Though I’d left my stress behind when we walked out of that courthouse months ago, Tripp’s had been a constant since the morning he’d rushed me to that emergency room in Kansas.
He didn’t treat me like glass, but he worried too much, even though my pregnancy had been picture-perfect, minus that one blip. I was healthy. Our baby was healthy and growing right on track.
I tapped his forearm and curled my fingers, signaling that I needed help to sit up. His hand in mine gave me the leverage I needed, and I tucked my legs beneath me before reaching up to smooth the crease lines from his forehead.
“I’m pregnant, Tripp. I would be exhausted just lying around here doing nothing all day.”
A rumble came from his chest in response.
“And you need to cut our mamas a little slack. This is new for both of them, and they’re excited.”
Tripp muttered, “My mama’s already got a grandbaby.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “But I’ve been told she can claim it being the first time all over again because the last one was the first girl, and this one will be the first boy.” He shot me a side-eye, and I held up my hands in surrender. “I don’t make the rules.”
My man merely grunted. There was nothing I could say that was going to get him to chill out. The best I could hope for was a distraction .
Gesturing the coffee table, I asked, “What’s that?”
Tripp’s brows drew down as he stared at the roll that was no less than three feet long, almost as if he’d gotten so caught up in his head that he’d forgotten what it was. I watched a spark of recognition light up in his blue gaze, and he leaned forward to slip off the rubber band that had been keeping it contained.
“I popped over to Mac and Aspen’s earlier—“
“Excuse me?” My voice rose in pitch.
His head whipped around so fast I heard his neck crack. Eyes wide, he asked, “What?”
I let out an annoyed exhale. “You got Reagan cuddles? Without me ?”
My husband’s mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no words came out. Blowing out a breath, he raked a hand through his dark hair. “Is this one of those times I accept there’s no reasoning with the pregnancy hormones and just start packing up my overnight bag now?”
Narrowing my eyes, I let him sweat it out for a minute before I said, “Can’t be too mad, seein’ as how I spent all evening over there last night when you said you were gonna be working late.”
Tripp’s eyebrows rose. “That so?”
My lips twisted into a sheepish grin. “I’m kinda addicted to her. Keep trying to sneak her out inside my coat, but Mac stops me every time. It’s like he really likes his kid or something.”
“Imagine that.” He chuckled, the earlier tension leaving his shoulders.
I let out a wistful sigh, rubbing a hand over my swollen stomach. “It’s gonna be really special watching them grow up together on the ranch.”
There was a sharp kick against my palm, almost like our little boy agreed.
“Speaking of growing up on the ranch . . .” Tripp unrolled the giant piece of paper, using his cell phone to pin down one side, a discarded book on the other .
My eyes scanned the sketch before I looked to him in question. “A house?”
Tripp gestured around the one-room cabin. The already small space was made even more cramped by all the baby gear—and that was before we even added the baby. “You wanna stay here forever?”
“Not forever.” I sighed. “But it’s more than adequate for a couple starting out.”
“We’re more than a couple.” He smoothed one hand over my belly. “We’re a family.”
“Your parents had two babies while they lived in this very cabin,“ I pointed out.
“Out of necessity. Not by choice,” he countered. “Now, Mac said if we approve the plans, he’ll put in a call with the contractor who did their house, and they should be able to begin construction as soon as the ground thaws in the spring. It won’t be ready when Bubba gets here”—his fingers danced along my bump—“but they’re estimating that with a double crew, we can move in by Halloween.”
I rolled my eyes. “His name’s not Bubba.”
Tripp smirked. “You’re right. It’s TJ.”
For the love of God. He’d blamed my hormones for kicking him out some nights, but more often than not, the underlying cause was his insistence that our firstborn son be a junior. And I wasn’t having it. Our child deserved their own name.
Lucky for me, I still had one ace I hadn’t played yet in that argument.
“Baby?” I toyed with the hair curled around the nape of his neck.
“Hmm?” His eyes had returned to the house plans laid out on the coffee table .
“Are you really going to saddle our son with the future trauma of someday hearing his mother screaming his name at the top of her lungs during sex?”
I expected shock—for him to immediately backtrack and wipe Tripp Junior off the table in our baby name discussions—so I was caught completely off guard when he turned to me with a smile so wide it reached the corners of his eyes.
Frowning, I circled a hand in front of his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Without looking, he tapped a finger on the table, explaining, “Already took care of that. Master suite’s gonna be soundproofed.”
A sound of disbelief came from the back of my throat.
Smug, he pressed a kiss to my mouth. Before he could make it too far, I snaked a hand around his neck, sinking my teeth into the plump flesh of his lower lip. He hissed at the bite of pain, and I relished the sound.
“Don’t get too cocky, baby,” I murmured. Dropping my free palm to his lap, I gave his dick a gentle squeeze, and he grunted. “Or maybe you should. I’d love nothing more than to cuff your hands and feet to the bedposts again, teasing you with my hands, my mouth, my pussy until you’re a whimpering, trembling mess, begging me to let you come.”
Tripp’s harsh swallow reached my ears, and I gave his crotch a little pat before easing back.
“So, you gonna tell me more about this house?”
Adjusting himself in his pants, my husband cleared his throat a few times. “Uh, yeah.” Leaning forward, he moved his finger through the floor plans of each level, pointing out the kitchen, living spaces, bedrooms, and bathrooms. “I had Aspen map out four bedrooms. If that turns out not to be enough, we can always build on an addition down the road. We’ll have plenty of space for it. ”
My insides warmed that he was already thinking ahead to how large we wanted to grow our family.
“Is it too late to expand the porch to make it large enough for a swing?”
Tripp waved me off. “Don’t need one.”
“Of course, we don’t need one. Just thought it might be nice to have somewhere to sit at the end of the day when it’s just the two of us or a shaded spot to watch from as the kids play in the yard.”
He shifted his stance on the couch, pulling one knee onto the cushions so he was facing me. “If you want a porch swing, I’ll install it for you myself, but that’s not what I meant when I said we didn’t need it.”
I cocked my head to the side. I still didn’t understand.
Reaching across the coffee table, he picked up his phone, which had the edge of the house plans curling toward the other end. Tapping on the screen, he handed it to me. “Aspen did the paper rendering because she’s old school, but Mac insisted we have a digital one in 3D as well.”
Using two fingers, he spun to the back of the house, and my breath caught in my throat.
“ That’s why.”
The house—our house—had our tree with the tire swing set behind it. He was going to build us a home in our special spot. The place where we’d always found comfort in each other would now become the place where we would raise our family, where we would grow old together.
Vision blurring, I whispered, “It’s perfect.”
“Thought you might like that.” I could hear the pride in his voice.
“I love it.” Tears broke free, sliding down my face. “Thank you.”
Cupping my cheek, Tripp thumbed the wetness away. “I should be the one who’s thanking you. You’ve given me everything, Penny. Your life, your love, your future.”
“And you’ve given me yours right back. ”
He lowered his forehead to mine and nuzzled my nose. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Those on the outside looking in might think it’s crazy that I married the first boy—the only boy—I ever loved, and that I wanted to spend the rest of my days living on the same piece of land I grew up on. They might argue that I hadn’t experienced enough of the world to realize that the horizon stretched on forever and the possibilities were endless.
But why would I go searching for more when everything I ever wanted was right here in front of me?
Sullivan Ranch, nestled on the outskirts of Rust Canyon, Oklahoma, would hold a lifetime of memories for me, for my husband, and for our children. As far as I was concerned, that made it the most special place on earth.