Chapter 23
Tater Tot
? Call a Cowboy - Lainey Wilson
Angelina
Daddy: Are you busy?
Me: No.
Me: Stop changing your name in my phone!
Daddy: Winky face emoji
Daddy: Come out to the sanctuary.
Me: Why?
Daddy: It’s a surprise.
Me: I hate surprises.
Daddy: Humor me.
I’m dead. Deceased. RIP Angie.
Cause of death: Griffin Hayes riding shirtless through the pasture.
The man should come with a warning label.
It’s not just the pregnancy hormones running rampant again, although I can say the increased libido isn’t helping the cause.
His broad, hairy chest is in full view for my enjoyment, right down to his soft stomach hanging over his jeans.
The muscles in his back flex with each subtle shift, wind whipping through his hair as Phoenix gallops across the field, steady and unhurried.
I’m twenty-four weeks along, and my body has finally figured out that food isn’t the enemy. Griffin is still on his sourdough journey, so I’m being well-fed and well-fucked. Still, I can’t seem to get enough. My appetite—for food and other things—is downright insatiable. It’s becoming a problem.
Griffin catches sight of me and changes course. He pulls back on the reins on the opposite side of the fence, and Phoenix comes to a stop with a quiet whinny. He tugs off one glove and taps his bottom lip with his index finger. “Give me a kiss.”
I step onto the bottom rung and tip my head up. His knuckles brush the underside of my jaw as his lips press to mine.
“How’s my little tater tot?”
I rub my hand over the small bump that suddenly appeared this morning. “She’s good. I finally know what Olivia meant about the hiccups. It’s the cutest thing.”
“I think you mean he,” Griffin says.
“Nope. It’s definitely a girl.”
He palms my belly through the fence. “We’ll see about that.”
Callie and Olivia are both having girls, but I decided I don’t want to know until after the baby is born. At our twenty-week ultrasound, I told Griffin I’d be fine if he wanted to find out, but he declined in the name of solidarity.
“Ready to go?” he asks.
I smirk. “I don’t know, I was kind of enjoying the view.”
He dismounts from Phoenix, keeping a hold of the reins. “Mm. Not now, baby girl. You can have all of this later.”
I once told Jess I’d never date a cowboy—like there was some cautionary tale I was trying to avoid. I walked right into it with Tyler, no hesitation. Now I’ve got Griffin galloping toward me, and I could choose to dodge or let him carry me off into the sunset.
I’ve always loved the Kentucky sunset.
Griffin takes Phoenix into the stables. Much to my dismay, he returns fully clothed, keys in one hand and a single sunflower in the other. He hands me the latter. “Come on. I’ll drive.”
I bring the flower to my nose and inhale. “You never told me where we’re going.”
“And I’m not going to.”
Griffin pulls up outside of a beautiful modern ranch-style house at the top of a hill surrounded by trees. White siding, black doors, natural wood accents. It’s stunning.
He takes my hand, guiding me up the stone walkway and through the front door.
The interior is just as beautiful, with vaulted ceilings and wood beams, crisp white walls, and natural elements.
It’s not stuffy and pretentious, as I’ve come to expect from the homes of my wealthy clients.
It’s warm and inviting, not unlike the man who owns it.
He takes me through the main living space down a long corridor, stopping outside of a nondescript interior door. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
With a dramatic sigh, I cover my eyes with my hands. I feel his warmth at my back as he gently grips my shoulders and walks me into the room. A few paces in, we stop, and his warmth disappears.
“Ok. Open.”
I slowly open my eyes, adjusting to the light streaming in through the large picture window at the far side of the room. The space is huge, but that’s all I can really say about it. It’s a blank slate. White walls, hardwood flooring, and what looks to be a closet.
“What am I looking at?” I ask.
For the first time since I met him, he seems nervous—not at all like the self-possessed and oftentimes brazen man I’ve come to expect. With his hands in his pockets, he rocks back on his heels. “A nursery? Maybe.” His throat bobs. “Hopefully.”
Warmth blooms in my chest. “Griff.”
“Just hear me out, okay? Your house is great, but I have all this space, and my family is close by to help out if we need them. You love animals, riding, and staring up at the clouds. You can’t do that in town.
We could raise him to ride, and he could play with his cousins every day.
We could be happy here. Together. As a family. ”
It all sounds… wonderful. Almost too good to be true. Can I trust him? Absolutely. Can I trust my instincts that moving in with him would be the right thing for us? That, I don’t know. I don’t have the best track record with men. I trusted Tyler, and look how that turned out.
He runs his fingers through his loose waves. I track the casual movement I’ve come to recognize as a habit. It’s a much-needed reminder that this is Griffin, and I’m safe with him. Safe to take my time. Safe to tell him what I need.
I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my cheek on his chest. “Thank you. For wanting to take care of us. I just… can I think about it? It’s a lot to process.”
His arms envelope me, and his lips press to my forehead. “I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
I smile up at him. “How about a tour?”
“This your way of getting me to show you my bedroom?”
I run my index finger down his chest and pop the top button of his flannel shirt. “I have much more efficient ways of doing that.”
His dark chuckle reverberates off the empty walls and settles in the pit of my stomach. “Come on. We’ll start over at the front door.”
Four beds, three baths, the most glorious kitchen, and a backyard I could get lost in. I don’t know how to say no to this, but I don’t want to jump in with both feet and end up regretting it.
I bring us to a stop in the living room, near the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out to the front yard, with its towering evergreens and empty flower boxes, just waiting to see fresh blooms.
“If I were to move in, what would that look like? Would I have my own room? Share with the baby?”
His brows shoot up as he wraps his arms around me and pulls my body flush against his.
“Let me make one thing perfectly fucking clear. When you move in here—when, not if—I expect you to sleep in my bed, preferably in my arms. If you’re worried about being too far away from tater tot, we’ll get a bassinet.
One of those special ones that attaches to the bed so he’s close by. I want you with me. Always.”
My spine tingles from the grit in his voice and his potent scent swirling around me. I inhale a ragged breath to center myself.
He continues. “I spent a long time wrestling with the guilt of stealing you away from Tyler, but I can’t fucking do it anymore.
Not after everything he’s done. It’s understandable that you’d have some doubts.
But I want you to know I’m in this. I can’t hold back anymore.
I need you, Angel. More than you fucking know. ”
A quiet laugh bursts out of me. “If this has been you holding back, I’d hate to see what it looks like when you’re all in.”
“Does it scare you?” he asks earnestly.
“Honestly? A little bit.”
“Anything worth having is bound to be a little scary at the start.”
I point the sunflower at him, still clutched in my fist. “You know, sometimes you open your mouth, and Evelyn Hayes comes out.”
“She raised us right.” He shrugs. “With any luck, I’ll pass some of that wisdom down to my son someday.”
“Daughter.”
He grabs a quilt off the back of the sofa and takes my hand, leading me out the sliding doors to the backyard.
He lays the quilt on the grass and motions for me to sit.
I cradle my bump as I sink to the ground.
He joins me, lying on his back with his feet crossed at the ankles and his elbow propped behind his head.
Following his lead, I lie back and stare up at the fluffy white clouds moving slowly across the vibrant blue sky.
“What do you see?” he asks.
I point skyward, squinting as the sun peeks out and dips back behind a cloud. “Hmm. That one looks vaguely like a bunny.”
“Looks more like a dinosaur to me.”
“Fine. What do you see then?” I ask.
“My future.”
I glance up at him, brow furrowed, only he’s not looking at the clouds anymore. He’s looking at me.
His palm flattens on my belly, and a soft flutter precedes a strong kick.
Griffin sucks in a sharp breath. “Holy shit.”
“Swear jar,” I tease him.
“You wouldn’t rat me out to Emmy Lou.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Nope,” he says, popping the p for emphasis. “Wouldn’t want to alienate your sourdough daddy.”
I cringe at the ridiculous nickname. “You need to stop trying to make the daddy thing stick. I’m never gonna call you that.”
He grins and slides down lower, propping his cheek on his hand right next to my belly. His palm runs the width of my bump and back, stroking it reverently.
“Hey tater tot,” he says, voice pitched low. “Can you do that again for daddy?”
My heart soars so high I fear it might never come down, and a fresh tear drips onto my cheek. The baby moves again, but not enough to be felt from the outside. I take Griffin’s calloused hand and move it lower and to the right, pressing down ever so slightly where I usually feel the most movement.
The baby kicks against our joined hands, and a huff of air escapes him as something like awe overtakes his features. “There you are. God, I love you so much.”
My throat constricts against the rush of unfettered joy. I didn’t think I’d ever have this. I thought we’d be on our own, and I was okay with that, but now, I don’t think I can ever let it go.
All I want is for my baby to know what it’s like to be wholly and completely loved. There’s no doubt in my mind I’ve succeeded in that, at least.
He shifts above me, careful not to lay his full weight on top of me. His eyes close, and he takes my mouth in a languid kiss. It’s a soft exploration, neither of us rushing to deepen it.
“This is everything I’ve ever wanted,” he whispers against my lips. “So, you can take all the time you need. I’ll be right here waiting when you’re ready to accept me.”
After a while, we shift positions. He lies on his back with his arm behind his head, and I use his soft belly as a pillow, closing my eyes to soak in the stillness here. Something tickles my stomach, and when I glance down, I see the sunflower in his hand.
“Maybe we should give the baby a name so you can stop calling them tater tot,” I say teasingly.
He stares at me, aghast that I would ever suggest such a thing. “What do you have against tater tots?”
“Nothing, but I prefer that my baby isn’t named after a breakfast food.”
“That’s offensive. Tater tots aren’t just breakfast foods. They’re the perfect food for any meal, crispy but soft on the inside. You can dress them up or eat them plain. What’s not to love?”
“You take potatoes way too seriously, Griffin Hayes. I’m not falling for your propaganda.”
His deep laugh vibrates through me from my toes to my fluttering belly, then everything stills.
“What about Jessie?” he says, swirling the sunflower around my belly button. “It works for a boy or a girl.”
I swallow against the rising tide of emotion—sadness mixed with something I can’t quite name.
“Jessie.” I stare down at my bump, whispering the name like it might hold some kind of answer. It feels so right, like it was always meant to be.
I don’t know why I didn’t think of it myself, but Griffin—he knew. He always knows.
Seven months ago, I resigned myself to a solitary future. I got so used to accepting the bare minimum, why is it so hard now to say yes when someone is offering me the world?