Nine Month Contract, page 12
Her eyes glint with something I can’t quite decipher before she shocks the hell out of me with her reply. “Maybe we need to do it the regular way. Like actually have sex with each other.”
My heart explodes in my chest as my emotions swing from disappointment to raging arousal in a flash. “Have sex?” I repeat to make sure my hormones aren’t hearing things.
She nods, her brows folded as she looks forward and ponders this suggestion. “I know I’m probably not your type, but we can shut the lights off and just—”
“We wouldn’t need to shut the lights off,” I bark, my voice firm and way too aggressive for the quiet stillness of the barn. The idea of me fucking her and not seeing her is more painful than the disappointment of this first month not working.
Her head jerks back as she gapes at me, her eyes curious and alive. She inspects my entire face as if looking for something in my expression. Does she think I’m lying? Does she think I’d need to shut the lights off to fuck her? Is she fucking crazy?
She pulls her lower lip into her mouth, and it’s like I can see the fantasy playing out in her mind, and my cock stirs at the thought of that. At the thought of her picturing me the way I imagine her. I feel myself drawing closer, like my body can’t help itself, and I briefly wonder if we’re not going to try this baby-making dance right here, right now—in Reginald’s fucking pigpen.
It’s not even sundown yet.
She barks out a nervous laugh and yanks herself away from the fence, away from me and my thickening cock. “Well, we’ve got time before I ovulate again to consider that option. Let’s just give it some serious thought, and we can meet and discuss it again next week?”
Right. Ovulation. She needs to ovulate before we do this. Obviously, I knew that.
I nod and watch her curiously as she goes back to cleaning out the pen like she didn’t just suggest I fuck her to get her pregnant. That will certainly complicate things. But if she’s up for it, so am I. I’m more than up for it.
With a deep, cleansing breath, I turn to do my own chores, knowing full well what I’ll be doing to myself at sundown tonight, baby making or not.
Chapter 20
Days Past Ovulation: 16
Animals on the Mountain: 2
Wyatt
“Millie,” I holler from the pasture enclosure. Millie stops walking to jerk her head in my direction. She wiggles her ears but then resumes her stroll with the pig, clearly not giving a shit about her human companions anymore.
“I feel so rejected!” Everly states with a laugh.
I shake my head as my goat and the pig continue walking the fence line together like they’ve known each other for years, not two weeks. “They like to walk together a lot. It’s the damnedest thing.”
Everly’s face lights up with amusement. “The cutest thing, you mean. Millie finally has a friend.”
I harrumph, not nearly as impressed by the sight as Everly.
“Is there any exciting news you want to tell me about, Uncle Wyatt?” Everly elbows me, waggling her brows excitedly.
“No,” I grunt out awkwardly. It’s really fucking weird to talk about knocking up my surrogate with my eighteen-year-old niece. Then again, she found Trista for me, so I guess we’ve probably already far surpassed normal.
Her lip juts out in disappointment. “Bummer.”
“These things take time,” I state with a shrug, feeling like a fucking creeper for being somewhat grateful that it didn’t work the first time because month two of trying to knock her up is fixing to be a lot more interesting than month one. Bring on sundown.
“Are they ignoring you again?” Trista cuts in, and I turn around to see her walking out of the barn toward us.
My heart hammers in my chest at the sight of her. She wears a pair of Carhartt coveralls with dried paint spattered all over them and her hair in its standard topknot. She looks fucking good.
“Trista!” Everly shrieks and runs over to greet the woman who just offered to have sex with me five days ago.
“Hey, crazy kid,” Trista replies, returning Everly’s overly eager hug. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too,” she replies with a smirk, wrapping her arm around Trista’s as she drags her toward me. “How do you like living in the barn?”
“Um... I low-key love it,” Trista says unabashedly, flashing me a warm smile and a wink that goes right to my cock. “You weren’t lying that the views are spectacular.”
“I told you!” Everly beams proudly. “Uncle Wyatt does good work.”
My eyes connect with Trista’s, and we hold each other’s gaze for a moment. I haven’t seen her since our chat in the barn the other day, and something about her seems...different. Her presence always inflicts a feeling of restlessness in me, but seeing her now, it’s like every cell in my body is being electrified.
And it doesn’t take a genius to know why.
Trista put sex on the table. And in the blink of an eye, I went from likely never seeing her naked to possibly fucking her very soon. I’m too old to be this excited by the prospect of sex, but lucky number thirteen isn’t just some chick I picked up at a bar. To think I might be able to take her in my bed, with her arms held above her head and her legs spread wide, dripping wet and ready for my—
“Reginald is so adorable,” Everly says, snapping me out of my dirty thoughts. “He’s even cuter than the pictures you texted me.”
Trista nods. “And he loves the barn life. Who woulda thought?”
“I would have,” I grumble softly. They both stare at me with accusing eyes, and I shrug. “He’s a pig. Pigs belong in barns, not apartments.”
Trista rolls her eyes. “He only likes it because he has Millie. Do you see how they stroll together? I swear it’s like they’re out there dishing on all the hot gossip.”
“I always begged Uncle Wyatt to get more animals out here, but he told me no.”
“I didn’t know he was capable of telling you no,” Trista says with a laugh. “I got the impression you have your uncles all wrapped around your finger.”
“Oh, I totally do.” Everly laughs. “Speaking of uncles, how’s it going with them? Are they driving you crazy? They can be a lot sometimes.”
“I weirdly haven’t seen much of them,” Trista answers with a shrug. “I suppose between the commute to work and the extra hours I put in with my vet friend, I haven’t had a chance to really hang out with the whole family.”
“Count yourself lucky,” I murmur under my breath.
Everly elbows me, and then I notice her smile drop as Millie and Reginald approach us. “What is Millie chewing on?”
“Oh my God,” Trista exclaims and moves to jump over the fence.
“What is it?” I ask, terrified that Millie could have gotten into something. I’ve had to rush her to the vet one other time when she ripped open a bag of feed and overate. Her stomach was bloated, and the vet had to literally fucking stab her behind the ribs to release the air buildup. It was one of the most terrifying days of my life.
I open the gate and drop down on my knees to pull out the shit in her mouth. “Give it here, girl. What did you get into?”
“Millie, spit it out!” Trista cries, her voice shrill. She shoves me over and swipes her fingers right in Millie’s mouth, causing her to gag and bleat in a way I’ve never heard before. “Shit!”
“What is it?” I demand again, my tone angry because it seems an awful lot like Trista gave my goat something bad for her. “What did you do to my girl?”
“I didn’t do anything to her!” she snaps at me as she continues thrusting her finger in her mouth. “God, why do goats have to eat everything?”
Finally, a big chunk of plastic falls out of her mouth and lands in the dirt. I stare down, my eyes seeing double for a second as I reach down and pick up the familiar-looking object. I turn it over and see on the other side a little control window that says the word PREGNANT.
“Reggie, get out of there!” Trista snaps, sitting on the ground to block her pig from eating the scraps that just came from my goat’s mouth.
“What is it?” Everly asks, and I struggle to find my own voice to tell her.
“It’s a pregnancy test,” Trista answers, flustered and out of breath as she sits crisscross in the dirt, hugging her sixty-pound pig to her body. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh my God!” Everly exclaims, leaping over the fence to join the chaos all around me. She squats beside me and takes the plastic chunk out of my hand to inspect it herself. “Uncle Wyatt, you’re having a baby!”
I remain frozen, my eyes fixed off in the distance as I adjust to this life-changing bit of information.
“I attached the pregnancy test to Millie’s halter to reveal the news, but she must have gotten it off somehow.” She grabs Reggie’s snout to pull his face to hers. “Reginald, did you pull it off Millie’s collar, you naughty boy?”
A series of grunts indicates God knows what because I don’t speak fucking pig. I’m not sure I even speak English right now. Holy. Fuck. She’s pregnant?
My eyes finally find Trista’s, and I can’t hide the catch in my voice as I whisper, “It actually worked?”
She smiles warmly at me, and it feels so fucking good it makes my eyes sting. Her voice is soft and knowing as she replies, “Finally popped up positive this morning. Ranch cups and children’s Tylenol defied the laws of science. Who woulda thought?”
“What?” Everly asks, her head snapping back and forth between mine and Trista’s in confusion.
Without thinking, I leap to my feet and grab Trista, yanking her off the ground and away from her squealing pig. I wrap my arms around her and crush her body to mine in a tight hug as I spin her in a circle. My entire chest vibrates with overwhelming emotion that I can’t put into words.
Words have never been my thing.
“Someone is certainly happy!” she exclaims with a laugh as I set her down. She holds on to my arms and locks eyes with me before she says, “Congratulations, Wyatt.”
My brows furrow at that response. It’s very cordial. And professional. And if I’m being honest...a little distant. I know being a single father is what I wanted, but this didn’t happen on my own. I couldn’t have done this without the woman in my arms.
“Thank you, Trista.” My voice is gravelly and full of confusion, happiness, and a million other emotions someone might feel when they’ve just found out their whole life is about to change.
We pull apart, and I glance to see Everly watching us with a knowing look. She bounds over, wrapping us both in a hug, and murmurs against my shoulder, “I’m so happy for you guys!”
And it’s at that moment that I realize there isn’t a “you guys.” This is just me. Yes, Trista’s role in this is vital and necessary and still highly important for the next nine months. But I’m the only one whose life will change after all this. And that’s a staggering realization.
Chapter 21
Weeks Pregnant: 5
Animals on the Mountain: 2
Trista
My stomach churns as I muck out Reginald’s pen while he goes to town on some leftover watermelon rinds that I dumped into his trough. I’m usually not such a marshmallow about the smell of manure, so I don’t quite understand why I’m struggling so much today. Honestly, cleaning out a stable is a hell of a lot easier than the litter box with the side cut out that I trained Reggie to eliminate in at my old apartment. That was always a mess, so I wasn’t surprised when the landlord gave me the boot.
When I’m all done, I glance around the barn and feel a sense of relief that I get to continue calling this place my home for the foreseeable future. The anxiety I had last week over not knowing if I was pregnant or not was next-level. I must have peed on ten tests in total that week. And I know the contract said we could try for several months, but Wyatt doesn’t exactly strike me as a patient man. And like it or not, I kind of need this job. And this barn.
My phone pings in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Avery.
Avery: Hey, I’m going to be vaccinating a herd of lambs tomorrow. Wanna join?
Me: Ewe know I do. ;)
Avery: I’ll text you the time when I get it confirmed. How are you feeling?
Me: Can morning sickness happen at only five weeks pregnant?
I watch the dots bounce on my phone as I impatiently await the reply. Avery was the first person I texted after the pregnancy test came back positive. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t seeing two lines by mistake, which prompted me to go to the store and get one of those foolproof tests that say the actual words: Pregnant or Not Pregnant. They are way more expensive, but the stakes are high. I needed more proof that the Tylenol syringe actually freaking worked.
Although I have been doing my fair share of fantasizing about doing the deed the old-fashioned way. I kind of blurted out that idea in the barn and was pleasantly surprised when Wyatt seemed down for it. In fact, I think I even felt a tiny pang of disappointment when the test turned positive because now I have no excuse to see the mountain man naked.
What a missed opportunity.
But obviously, that’s for the best. Sex with him would be so messy. And stupid. And just...a bad, bad idea. I don’t know what came over me that day, but I do know that neither of us has ever spoken of it since. Thank God.
I’m blaming that suggestion on pregnancy hormones. Hormones are my get-out-of-jail-free card, and I will use them as an excuse liberally for the next nine months.
Avery: I would guess it’s normal, but I’m an animal doctor, not a human one. You should ask your own doctor. When do you get your first scan done?
Me: In a couple of weeks.
Avery: Did they confirm the pregnancy with blood work?
Me: Yes
Avery: Then I’m sure it’s just hormonal fluctuations. But if you’re worried, don’t be afraid to call your doctor. Or do something crazy like read a baby book.
My nose wrinkles at that. I tried to read a baby book at the library the other day, and it made me feel weird. It was clearly written for a woman who’s keeping her baby and embracing the life growing inside her, and that is not the headspace I want to entertain.
I want to stay as detached as possible. What’s happening inside me is science, and that’s how I will continue to look at it for the next nine months. I’m an inseminated cow.
Although I will admit, getting picked up and spun around in the pasture by Wyatt was a bit of a butterfly-inducing moment. Mostly because I was shocked he could lift me without causing himself physical harm. But also because he seems so certain about all this. There is no doubt in his mind that he wants this baby all on his own. Which I guess is good because it’s too late to turn back now.
I grab my phone to reply to Avery.
Me: The baby books all suck. They’re all written for mothers planning to keep their kids.
Avery: Maybe you should join a surrogacy support group?
Me: Do those exist?
Avery: If not in person, then surely they do online.
I consider that idea. It’d be nice to have someone to talk to about this pregnancy stuff, but the thought of opening up to a bunch of strangers sounds awful. And unfortunately, I don’t have any close friends who I’d feel cool with talking about this crazy surrogacy journey I’m on. I pretty much grew apart from my old high school friends once they all went off to college, and other than meeting up for an odd drink to catch up here and there, we don’t really keep in touch.
Plus, I work too damn much to find a local support group. The only reason my friendship with Avery even exists is because of the work we do together.
I just need to get through this first ultrasound and confirm this baby actually exists before I go spilling my guts to my doctor about how I feel like yakking every time I catch a whiff of something unpleasant. Gotta stay strong.
Chapter 22
Weeks Pregnant: 7
Animals on the Mountain: 2
Trista
“Fucking fuck,” Wyatt’s deep voice growls softly as he grabs the crook of my arm and yanks me back toward him.
I’m assaulted by his scent as I stumble into his chest, my eyes closing in pain because no man has the right to smell as good as he does. I always thought the soaps labeled “mountain rain” were complete bullshit. How could any lab ever fully capture the aroma of mountain rain? And now that I’ve lived on a mountain for over a month, I’m convinced they are bullshit. Because no soap can fully capture the natural scent of Wyatt Fletcher. He’s all the things...clean and fresh and rugged and woodsy. Which is why I take far longer than I should to extract myself from his embrace.
I look up, hating how tall he is when we stand face-to-face. As a tall girlie, tall guys are always these elusive creatures. They’re usually only seen on television or coupled up with some tiny five-foot-nothing girl because big guys like tiny girls. That’s just a sad fact of life.
I bet Wyatt likes tiny women—a little slip of a thing that he could completely annihilate in the bedroom.
And why the hell am I thinking about Wyatt Fletcher in the bedroom? That is a thought I have painstakingly tried to avoid since that first night in his bed, and re-invoking that image as we walk into the clinic for our first ultrasound appointment is not good. What if there’s something on the machine that can show the tech that I’m horny? Like some sort of dilated ovary or something.
Good God, pregnancy makes me stupid.
Which is why I need to keep reminding myself that Wyatt Fletcher likes tiny girls with tiny asses and tiny vaginas. And I’m here with my plus-sized birthing hips to give him a baby. Nothing more.
