Built for Love - Ella Goode Page 0,24

“Be right back.” She nods before I walk as fast as I can toward the bathroom. I barely make it before I’m throwing up my morning coffee.

“You okay?” Marist asks. I let out a surprised yelp, spinning around.

“I’m fine.”

“Last period?” She arches one of her perfect eyebrows at me. It takes me a second to understand her question.

“Oh.” I walk over to the sink, washing my mouth and grabbing one of the hotel size mouthwash bottles to rinse out my mouth. She comes to stand next to me at the sink. She bumps her shoulder against mine in silent support.

“Please don’t mention this to Abel.”

“I wouldn't. That’s for you to tell.” I nod, knowing she wouldn't, but I wanted to be sure because I’m not sure I’m ready to tell him. I want to know where we stand before I throw a baby into that mix. I want him to ask me to be with him forever because it’s what he truly wants and not because I am carrying his baby.

Our baby.

16

Abel

“You seem extra cheerful today,” Beck says sourly. He tosses back a whiskey and motions for the bartender to pour him another.

“I’m so glad you noticed, bro.” I clap my partner on the back. “But maybe you should dial back the booze.” It’s the third glass he’s had since I sat down ten minutes ago. “Happy hour doesn’t start for another thirty minutes.”

“Who said I’m here for happy hour?” He scowls into his glass, drains it, and says to the bartender, “Just leave the whole bottle here.”

I rub my lips together and let Beck stew. He’s in a bad mood, and he’s been drinking for a while--even though the sun hasn’t set. I’m guessing it’s something to do with Marist. He should just take her to bed and be done with it. I wasted no time getting my dick inside Pepper’s sweet cunt, and I swear that’s what set the tone for our relationship. It’s been smooth sailing ever since I hauled her out of the restaurant, took her home, and made love to her until the birds chirped. Now she’s pregnant. Everything’s so damned good. I keep my self-satisfied thoughts to myself, though, since Beck is down. I don’t want to rub the salt in his wounds. Not only do I have the woman of my dreams in my bed, but I’ve planted my seed in her belly and it’s bearing fruit.

“If you don’t stop fucking humming, I’m going to smash this bottle of Jack over your head.” Beck’s voice is dead serious.

“Didn’t realize I was.” I throw some peanuts in my mouth.

“And wipe that stupid grin off your face. You look disgusting. Happy people are disgusting.”

I decide to give my buddy some advice. “Marist is a gorgeous woman who is hit on non-stop.”

“Do you want to die?”

“And even though she has a bazillion options,” I continue unperturbed, “she doesn’t choose any of them. She’s obviously waiting for you.”

“I know.”

“And so you should--wait, what? You know?”

Beck rolls the glass between his hands and stares morosely at the amber liquid. “Of course I know. I’m not an idiot.”

“Just because you can do big sums in your head doesn’t mean you’re good at reading people. Remember the one time you asked the barista at Tea Leaves when she was having a baby?”

“I was seventeen!” he nearly shouts.

“Okay, but still, outside the boardroom, your people skills aren’t the best.”

“I know she wants me.” He slams his fist against the bar. Two men at the end of the bar stop talking and turn to look at him. Beck gives them an evil glare that has sent at least one corporate bigwig to the bathroom so he didn’t soil his pants. The guys drop their eyes to their drinks. Beck’s the alpha here, and they know it. Having intimidated two suits, Beck returns his attention to me. “I know she wants me,” he repeats in a quieter, but no less fierce tone.

“So what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is she deserves someone better than me. Isn’t it obvious?” He makes a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “This is why I’ve never talked to you about it. You don’t get it.”

“You’re right.” My brows crunch together in confusion. “I don’t get it. What isn’t great about you? You’re smart, rich, capable. I mean, you drink a little too much, but I figure that’s because you aren’t getting laid. Having sex on the regular does wonders for your spirit. I’ve never felt--”

“Would