It Wasn't Me - Lani Lynn Vale Page 0,61

focusing on the counter next to my hip.

That was when I cursed.

“Umm, so I have something to tell you,” I told him.

His arms tightened around my body as he said, “You think?”

“I was going to call you as soon as I was out of the shower,” I told him.

“You suspected, though,” he rumbled.

I nodded. “I suspected.”

He let his hold on me loosen, then dropped a kiss to my head. “I did, too.”

“You did?” I asked in surprise.

“Yeah,” he said. “I grew up with a sister, remember? I’m fairly sure that you not having a period the entire time that we’re together over the last two months would mean something.”

I harrumphed.

“That’s true,” I admitted.

“How accurate is that?” he asked, flicking the test with one finger.

“Ninety-nine percent,” I answered. “There’s a possibility of a false positive, but I don’t think that it’s false.”

His chin tilted down so that he could look at me.

“You don’t?” he rumbled.

I shook my head. “No. I’ve felt…off.”

“Off how?” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Off. Tired. Reallllllly tired So tired, in fact, that I could happily take naps in the middle of my shifts tired. Even after getting a full ‘night’s’ rest.”

“What else?” he wondered.

“General fatigue, hungry. I’m also really, really horny. Though at first, I wasn’t sure if that was because of you, or because of hormones,” I answered. “I’m still not sure.”

His lips twitched.

“That’s not a bad symptom, I guess,” he admitted. “What’s the plan now?”

“Now,” I smoothed my hand down the wet spot on his uniform shirt. “Now I call the doctor and try to get in soon. From there I guess we’ll just wait and see. I was going to ask one of the nurses on the floor to do an ultrasound on me when I go into work next.”

He pressed a kiss to my nose and stepped back. “I want to see that.”

I felt things inside of me loosen at his obvious lack of worry over my newly recognized state.

Then a thought occurred to me.

“What was making all that banging?” I questioned.

His lips twitched now.

“Get some pants on and come see,” he said. “I’ll be outside.”

I did as he asked, leaving his uniform shirt on but pulling on a pair of sweat pants underneath it.

When I arrived outside, I was surprised to see that Jonah wasn’t alone.

“Well, hello.” I smiled at the other officer.

He was dressed identically to Jonah but was smaller. Younger. And he had scars. A lot of them. And where he didn’t have scars, he had tattoos. Beautiful ones that took up a lot of his skin.

I smiled timidly at the man.

“Pace, this is my wife, Piper. Piper, this is Pace,” Jonah said, introducing the two of us.

Pace grinned wickedly at me. “It’s nice to meet you, Piper.”

I offered my hand to the man just like my father taught me, then shook it before letting it go.

“So you work with Jonah?” I asked curiously.

Pace dropped my hand and tilted his head. “How did you know? Was it the hooker clothes that gave it away?”

I burst out laughing.

I liked him. I liked him a lot.

“You know,” Jonah said, sounding amused. “I have to tell her at least once a shift that these aren’t stripper boots, and there you are telling her they’re stripper clothes.”

Pace shrugged unrepentantly. “It is what it is.”

Jonah rolled his eyes then caught my hand, leading me into the spare bathroom.

I frowned when he stopped at the door, then pushed it open.

That’s when I saw my new Roomba on the floor.

I frowned. “Why are you showing me this?”

Jonah bent down and hit the button, then gestured at me to watch.

I did, and before my eyes, the Roomba drove forward, hit the toilet brush, then backed up, hitting the stool. Over and over it did this, hitting various things in the bathroom over and over again, causing me to wince.

“Oh, no,” I murmured softly. “Shit.”

Jonah pulled me into his side and dropped his head to rest on top of mine.

“Don’t worry,” he said teasingly. “I’ll only catch a little shit for this at the station.”

I snorted.

“They don’t talk to you anyway, Jonah,” Pace teased from behind us. “They’ll be thinking it, but they won’t actually say it.”

I gasped and turned. “They don’t talk to Jonah? Why?”

The worry in my tone had my husband squeezing me back to his side as he turned around.

“They think I’m an asshole,” my husband said. “Because I am an asshole.”

I blinked. “But that doesn’t mean that they can’t still talk to