Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,37
asked. “I mean for future reference.”
“Hate surprises. I like to know exactly how everything will be when it happens. Or maybe it’s my bull’s controlling tendencies. I’m good under pressure and not much stresses me out, but surprises? They stress me out.”
Well…shit. Surprise, you’re going to be a dad.
She was going to have to think of a way to bring it up gently, maybe not spring it on him the day before he did a two-day buck-off for the number one bull in the world and a one-million-dollar purse.
Her timing had always been unsatisfactory.
Maybe she would buy him a little present of baby Wranglers and cowboy boots after the finals were over and a nice handmade card that said, Surprise! Your sperms work, and see if he wanted to sink or swim in the lake of fatherhood.
She was going to be a mom!
“Your heartbeat is racing a mile a minute,” Quickdraw murmured. “You really do like surprises, don’t you?”
Be cool. “Surprises are one of my favorite things. And street tacos with extra green sauce, also being on time to places and when my hair isn’t frizzy, sunny days and barbecue sauce. And…friendly people.”
He laughed as he led her around the corner of the camper. “I want to know it all. Anything else that is your favorite?”
You. She cleared her throat and said softly, “I don’t mind being here.” With you.
Ooooh, she had a crush on her baby daddyyyyy.
Be cool, be cool. Be super cool.
He rounded on her and gripped her shoulders gently, then stepped to the side and gestured to a folding table he’d set up by the firepit. It had a red and white checker tablecloth and a candle lit in the middle of the table. There were paper plates, plasticware, and napkins and glasses of ice water so cold condensation was dripping down the sides. And on the firepit, there was an iron grate with three covered cast-iron skillets. She could smell the venison steak from here.
“Hunter said wolves like the game meats, so I called in a favor and tracked some down.” Quickdraw was studying her.
“You did this for me?” she asked, stunned.
“Well, it ain’t much—”
“Yes, it is,” she whispered. “This is better than a fancy restaurant. You set this all up yourself. I didn’t even know you were out here doing all of this. I would’ve helped.”
“I didn’t want you to. I wanted to surprise you.” He pressed his fingertips to the small of her back and guided her toward the table. Chills rippled up her spine from how good his touch felt.
He pulled out one of the camp chairs from under the table and picked up a thick flannel jacket and a folded blanket. “I put these out for you in case you got cold. That wind kicked up a little.”
Indeed, it had. He held out the jacket for her, and she slid her arms into his oversize coat, then cuddled it tight around her and smelled it. She committed the scent to memory. It was Quickdraw and cologne and the fur of his bull.
“You sniff everything,” he said, pushing the chair in under her.
“I do?” she asked as he set the blanket over her lap. And bless that man, he even tucked it around the edges of her thighs so the wind couldn’t get in.
“You even sniff all your food before you eat it. And the milk in the fridge? You sniff it before you pour a glass. And when we’re at the arena or out anywhere, your little nose is always twitching. I wonder what those smells are telling you. Are the scents the same for you as they are for me? Or are the smells different to you because you are a wolf and I’m a bull?”
“You’re a watcher.”
He knelt by the firepit and began loading food onto a plate—steak, green beans, a baked potato stuffed with butter and cheese, and a buttered biscuit. As he did, he told her something real. “My mom thought I was dumb when I was a kid because I didn’t talk until I was four, and when I did start talking, I didn’t say much. Still don’t.”
“I don’t think anyone could mistake you for dumb now. You’re quiet, but that’s because you don’t speak unless you have something important to say. Too many people in the world fill up the space with nonsense just to hear themselves speak. Not you.”
He stood with that steaming plate of food in his hands, the flickering flames casting his features