Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,36
quick.
It would be great if she wasn’t pregnant. Right? Yes.
But a little Quickdraw would be cute. A little brute of a boy with dark eyes and a protective streak like his daddy. Little baby wranglers on his little baby butt and cowboy boots from the time he could walk. Cowboy boots? She was already shopping for cowboy boots. Her—Annabelle Faulk—who had never worn cowboy boots in her life.
She looked down at the test, but the indicator only had one line. Not pregnant.
She dropped if fast and staggered back a few steps, stood there, her shoulders heaving with her breath.
Not pregnant, so no baby wranglers. No little sidekick. No mothering.
Annabelle was shocked at the depth of disappointment she felt.
Had she wrapped her head around a pregnancy that much? That she would feel this…this…emptiness without it?
The wolf was quiet. Too quiet. She wasn’t howling or pitching a fit or forcing a change. She was just watching and waiting, almost smug.
Annabelle narrowed her glowing blue eyes at her reflection in the mirror and approached the sink again. She picked up the first test and studied the results window. Was that a faint second line? So faint.
Heart drumming out of her chest, she picked up the second and, yep, there was a second line. There it was. She picked up the first test again, and the line was getting darker.
Oh, my God.
Annabelle looked up at herself, then down at the tests. Why was she smiling? Why was she laughing? Why was her laugh getting all thick? Why were tears streaming down her face now?
She searched her mind high and low, but she didn’t feel any disappointment. Not like when she’d thought she wasn’t pregnant.
“I’m gonna do this.”
Inside, her wolf howled a triumphant sound that rattled this way and that through her mind. Annabelle sat on the floor, cradling the two tests to her heart and just…broke down.
She’d never realized she wanted something so bad.
She was going to do this. With a teammate or not, she was going to have a little Wrangler butt, tough-as-nails little baby boy.
A boy, a boy. Shifters only had sons, so she would have a boy.
He existed, and he was a part of her. He existed.
Annabelle wrapped her arms around her stomach, and two little tears splatted onto her arms.
“They’re happy tears,” she assured him, her little baby. Her little pup. “You’re wanted.” She would never let him feel unwanted. She’d felt like that before, but she would never ever let him feel that way. Not even for a day.
Inside, her wolf was so emotional. She’d always wanted this. Always. She didn’t want to be a lone wolf; she wanted to build a pack. She wanted to love something outside of herself.
“We’re going to do this,” Annabelle whispered.
Chapter Twelve
Annabelle opened the bathroom door to find Quickdraw sitting on the couch. She startled hard because she hadn’t heard him return.
“Hey, Scaredy-Wolf,” he said with a slight frown at her reaction. “I have a surprise for you.”
Fighting the urge to wipe any remaining dampness from her cheeks, she sniffed and composed her face, then asked, “What kind of surprise?”
The evening shadows had begun to stretch across the RV park, and Quickdraw glanced out the window at them, then back to her. His eyes searched hers, uncertain. “You like surprises, right?”
“I love them,” she answered in earnest. “I’ve always loved them. I never want to know even hints before surprises. I just like to be knocked out with them. For future reference.”
“Okay, good.” He sauntered closer and gripped her hip, pulled her in and kissed her. And, boy, did he kiss her. It was that heart-pounding, boob-tingling, breath-shaking, first-love kind of kiss. She didn’t know how long they stood there like that, their lips crashing against each other’s, but she did know she felt utterly drunk on Quickdraw by the time he pulled back.
“Best. Surprise. Ever,” she murmured, taking her time to open her eyes to the real world again.
When she did, he was standing tall and strong in front of her, smelling like cologne, a baseball cap on backward, a navy T-shirt under a blue and black flannel that hugged the strong muscles of his arms just right.
“You look good in blue,” she told him. “It’s my favorite color on you.”
“Really?” he asked, his smile turning crooked and questioning.
“Oh, yep. Really, really.”
“The kiss wasn’t your surprise.”
“There’s more?”
He chuckled and wrapped his big, warm hand around hers and tugged her gently toward the door. “Come on. It’s outside.”
“Ummm, do you like surprises?” she