could never get used to hearing it.
“Ha! I ask myself that every day. Chance, why do you continue to enable someone with an addiction? The answer is simple…you don’t have the right equipment for my tastes,” he said while wagging his eyebrows teasingly. “So, in order for me to see what you look like while having an orgasm, I must sneak you things the broody man won’t allow you to have. I swear, the doctor makes one comment about how you shouldn’t have something and he goes all caveman on your ass and you develop an addiction.”
I took another bite of my pickle as he filled his plate with salad and fruit. “Pfft, I’m not addicted. I could stop anytime I want.”
His hand swept across the table to take my beloved dish.
“Touch that and you die.” I grabbed my fork, ready to stab him.
His eyes widened and his brows pinched together. “I’m honestly worried for you. Like seriously. You need a support group for pregnant beasts. Besides, what would the broody alpha say if I told him I’ve been sneaking you these?”
My head whipped around and I glared. “You wouldn’t dare…” I knew he most likely wouldn’t. After all, Abel would kill him, and then scold me. Last few visits to the OB, my blood pressure was high. I needed to lay off salt and take it easy. The doctor was worried about Preeclampsia so Abel had the house purged of any salt and sweets, making it unbearable.
Before Chance could answer, the unthinkable happened. The boys returned from the studio tired and hungry. Fuck. “Stick the rest in your pants.” I pushed the dish toward him.
“What pants? I’m wearing board shorts, bitch.” His voice filled with panic.
I shrugged. “And? Figure it out right quick or…” I turned my attention to Abel, Woody, Ender, and Jake.
Out of the corner of my eye, Chance stuck the rest of the peanut butter cup and two pickles spears into the side pocket of his board shorts. “I hate you right now. You know that, right?” He glared at me, wiping his hand on the napkin. “Worst friend ever—ever.” He stood to greet the boys, smiling widely. I laughed, and Chance’s eyes met mine with malice. He murmured something about Karma and how he hoped my feet would swell three more sizes.
Woody hugged me tight before grabbing a handful of grapes. “I see yer still up the flue.”
I blinked a few times and searched my mind for the definition. Chance and I recently bought an Irish to English translator. Chance stood behind Woody gesturing with his hands around his belly. Pregnant. “Yep, and in my third trimester. Almost at the end.” I beamed, and he leaned in to kiss my cheek.
“Aye, the babe is comin’ soon then…” He nodded and stepped around me, heading for the bar.
Woody, recently sported a taped up, faded Mohawk. It wasn’t as extreme as a normal Mohawk, but it was a trendy version of one. His roots were dark and the ends were light blond. He wore it well. What I couldn’t wrap my head around was the basketball shorts he wore. When I asked, his response was classic Woody: “Tis the best of ol’ time. I’m Jordan with my sticks.” How could you not laugh at that statement? While it was true—he was the best drummer that came on the scene in years—his comparison to Jordan was brilliant.
Jake and Ender hung back, speaking off to the side while Abel’s determined gait caught my attention. No. I looked for Chance and saw him slipping through the sliders.
Abel sat on the double lounge, kicked his feet up, and beckoned me with his finger. His smirk was adorable and his eyes focused solely on my lips. Jesus, did I have chocolate on them? It would be too obvious to wipe my mouth and gargle with my iced-tea. I knew he’d sniff it out. So I went to him, holding my chin up high, and let him pull me to lay next to him. “Hiya.” I kissed his cheek and burrowed my face into his chest. “Why are the guys here?”
“Is that a problem, Beauty?” he asked and pulled his sunglasses down from the top of his head to cover his eyes. Problem? Was he serious?
I sat up and turned to face him. “Never a problem. I was just wondering if they were hungry. I could go in and—”
He pulled me over his legs to straddle him. And I thanked god I’d put