Nine Month Contract, page 16
“Mountain-man-aesthetic thing?” He scowls, clearly not liking my suggestion that he would chop wood for anything other than some meaningful purpose. “I chop for wildfire mitigation. I have to constantly keep a clear zone around my house to prevent it from igniting in the event of a catastrophic fire. Because I have to chop so much, I built a masonry heater in my home. It burns wood and traps the heat in the brick chambers to distribute slowly. Goes through way less wood than a wood-burning furnace and causes a lot less pollution, which makes for improved air quality up here.”
My mood shifts as I feel oddly proud of this overbearing, overgenerous, eco-savvy guy I let knock me up with his ranch cup sperm. “Definitely not for TikTok, then.”
“I don’t even have TikTok,” Wyatt huffs. He sounds funny when he says “TikTok.” He sounds funny when he says anything outside of grunts and basic conversation he’s forced into by me. “Chopping wood is kind of like my therapy. It’s meditative. My mind stops racing when I’m here.”
“Does your mind race a lot?” I watch him carefully because I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface on this guy yet, and I’m curious about what makes him tick. What causes that nearly permanent glower on his face most days? And how did us becoming friends turn into him going nuts and dad bombing me?
“I guess so.” He pulls his ax out of the stump as he sets a fresh log up on his chopping station. “My dad always called me a ‘five minutes from now’ person. Always stressing about the future and what’s to come.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is...which is why I love chopping wood.” He takes a swing, and a satisfying snap of wood draws my eyes to the log he split with just one cut. He frowns and juts his bearded chin toward me. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Are you a now person or a ‘five minutes from now’ person?”
My brows lift as I ponder that question. “I think I’m more of a ‘five minutes late’ person. Especially because I’m supposed to be helping Avery this afternoon, and I should have left ten minutes ago.”
He laughs and nods, and I get little butterflies in my belly at the sight of it. It’s not easy to make this man smile, but I feel like a million bucks when I do.
“What’s in the bag?” Wyatt asks as I turn to walk away.
“Oh gosh, I got so distracted by all this hard wood that I forgot I grabbed this.” I trudge back over to Wyatt and hand him the bag, our fingers brushing as it exchanges hands. Heat floods my face as I add, “Just a little ‘congrats on becoming a dad’ present. It just arrived yesterday.”
“You didn’t have to get me a present.”
“I know, but maybe you can consider this a ceasefire request for your overly kind gestures.”
He harrumphs and pulls out a monogrammed coffee mug I ordered for him.
“Dad Era?” He shoots a puzzled look my way.
I smile brightly. “Because you’re such a huge fan of Taylor Swift.”
Wyatt’s face falls. “What?”
“You’re a Swiftie, right?” I point coyly at him. “It sure seemed like it in that video of you at the concert with Everly and your brothers. Man, how many bracelets did you trade with people? Your arm was stacked.”
“Alright, who showed you that?” Wyatt loses all good humor on his face. “Was it Calder? I told him to leave you the fuck alone.” His jaw clenches as he looks up the mountain where his brother’s cabin rests.
His barely contained fury over being outed as a Swiftie has me erupting into a fit of giggles. “It was Everly.”
His demeanor instantly shifts. “Well, fuck.”
“Yeah, take it easy, Mr. Mountain Man. That’s your niece.”
He grumbles something under his breath I can’t quite hear.
“Speaking of your niece, she invited me to her graduation party in a couple of weeks.”
Wyatt’s knowing blue eyes find mine, looking a touch more green in the forest.
“She said it was your idea?”
He shrugs. “Seems like a friend thing to do.”
Heat floods my body because the way he just said friend felt a lot friendlier than it should. But maybe that’s just my hormones talking.
“It wouldn’t be weird for you if I went?”
“Why would it be weird?” Wyatt props his hand on his ax and eyes me seriously.
“Well, I’m assuming a lot of your friends and family will be there, and I’m not sure how many people know about this situation or if you even want to talk about it. Surely, they’ll wonder who I am.”
“Trista, this may come as a shock to you, but I don’t give a fuck what most people think.” His eyes are lethal on mine, and a rush of heat moves through me, settling heavily in my groin. He’s hot when he’s threatening. “The only people who really know about what we’re doing here are my family. As far as I’m concerned, it’s no one else’s business.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “Sounds good to me. And I already have a gift in mind for Everly. I’m going to have a mug made that says Cousin Era on it. Think she would like that?”
“Definitely,” he replies, and affection blooms on his face as if it’s the first time he’s considered the fact that he’s giving his niece a cousin.
“Okay, then I’ll come.” I nod and smile.
“You’ll come,” he repeats and smiles back.
Our eyes hold each other for a moment, and I swallow the lump in my throat at the way he’s looking at me. My face feels hot when I give an awkward little wave and turn to leave, only to hear Wyatt call out, “Plan on riding with me and my brothers to the graduation party and to our twelve-week scan coming up. It’s more fuel efficient, okay?”
I pause and exhale heavily. I came up here to give him a piece of my mind about being overly friendly, and now I have a new mattress, a guaranteed daily breakfast delivery, and a couple of rides to town. Something tells me this mountain man isn’t used to being told no. If I want to survive on Mount Millie for a full nine months, I’ll need to make sure he realizes that I know how to get what I want as well.
Chapter 26
Weeks Pregnant: 12
Animals on the Mountain: 3
Wyatt
“We’re just going to tuck this right under here,” the ultrasound tech says as she rolls a towel over Trista’s jeans and pulls the fabric so low I can see the curves of her groin.
My hands ball into fists as I turn away from the exam table, trying my damnedest not to ogle the skin on full display in front of me. Jesus Christ, her body is something else. It’s soft and curved in all the right places. And I’ve shamelessly noticed the change in her breasts these past several weeks too. They’re practically bursting through the fabric of the cropped tank she’s wearing today. She usually doesn’t dress so revealing, so I’m ashamed to admit how many times I’ve caught myself looking.
It’s no secret that I’ve always preferred curvy women. When my brothers and I do our boys’ nights in Denver, we can all depend on not being attracted to the same girl based on our types. I like women with curves who can handle a good romp in the bedroom. Calder likes feisty women who act like they hate him until they’re fucking like animals in the car. And Luke gravitates toward the quiet girls...the ones who look too innocent to have a one-night stand but make an exception just for him.
We don’t overlap on our taste in women...except for one time. And ever since then, we’ve learned to stay in our fucking lanes.
Trista Matthews is definitely in my lane, and if I think too much about why I picked her to be my surrogate, I start to feel really uncomfortable.
“Wyatt, don’t be so awkward.” Trista reaches out and grabs my wrist to pull me toward the bed. The sensation of her skin on mine sends shivers up my arm.
“Just trying to give you privacy.” I scowl at the tech, who’s watching our interaction with rapt fascination.
“What is there to see? The fact that my jeans don’t button quite as good as they used to?” She laughs as she props her hand behind her head. “Our contract says you get to be in the room when I give birth, so no need to be bashful now.”
“You guys are cute,” the tech says as she readies the ultrasound machine. “Were you friends before you agreed to be his surrogate?”
“We’re still figuring out the friends part,” Trista teases, glancing at me.
My brows furrow at that response. I’ve tried really hard the past week to back off on the gifts, even though everything I’ve given her seems like valuable things anyone growing a human in their body would appreciate.
She doesn’t get how impressed I am by her. The fact that she used a fucking Tylenol syringe of my sperm and now there’s life growing inside her is a miracle of science. I want to make sure she’s taken care of during this nine-month contract. She deserves at least that much, and I get the sense that no one has ever really done that for her.
Although I’ll admit putting gas in her car was a bit much. But at least I canceled the appointment I made to buy her new tires at Tire Depot in Boulder. That would have sent her over the edge, for sure. I can maybe try that once we’re in the second trimester. Spread my “dad bombing” out a bit.
I watch the tech squirt gel all over Trista’s stomach, which looks pretty flat still to me. There’s a slight rounding happening below her belly button, but I can’t tell if that’s baby or not. She looks great to me either way.
“It appears someone’s awake,” the tech coos, and I glance up at the screen to see the video image of my baby dancing.
“Holy shit,” I rumble, my voice hoarse as I gawk at how much it’s changed.
“From a jelly bean to a plum!” the tech confirms with a big, toothy smile. “It’ll be hard to get the measurements with all the movement, but everything looks really great at first glance, Dad.”
Her dad reference causes a rush of emotion to swell in my chest, and I watch in awe as the baby wiggles and dances on the screen. Something about this little digital bundle looking like an actual baby now has made this all a thousand times more real.
I blink through the burn in my eyes as the baby’s hand moves up toward its mouth. My voice is deep and garbled when I ask, “Is it true they can suck their thumb at this gestation? That’s what one of the baby books says.”
“You’ve been reading baby books?” the tech asks, her voice full of shock.
I shrug because it’s like the bare fucking minimum effort. “After Trista got really bad morning sickness, I wanted to make sure I knew what else might be coming for her. You know...so I can help out more.”
“Oh, he loves helping,” Trista murmurs with a laugh and pats my arm teasingly.
I frown once again as the tech replies to my earlier question. “Well, you’re correct. They can suck their thumb at this point in the pregnancy. They are also fully formed now...all their fingers, toes, and organs are present and accounted for. The teeth are even beginning to develop.”
“Teeth?” Trista cringes. “Is this a Twilight baby? I didn’t know babies were born with teeth.”
The tech laughs. “Just the buds. Although babies can actually be born with teeth. It’s really rare, though.”
I can’t help the smile that grows on my face. The baby isn’t here yet, and I am already proud of it.
“Measurements are all good, and the due date is on track. Can’t quite see the gender yet, though. You’ll find that out at your next ultrasound around twenty-week gestation...that is...if you want to know. Maybe you want to be surprised?”
The tech looks at me, and I feel a surge of anxiety. For someone who constantly stresses about the future, how had this thought escaped me? How have I not even wondered what sex of a baby I’m having? Surely I need to figure out the baby room before the baby is here. Pink? Blue? Maybe green so the baby can decide what color it likes. Or go gender-neutral with yellow and then be surprised? Can I really wait that long?
Trista appears to be waiting for my answer too, so I mumble, “I’ll, um...need to give that some more thought.”
The tech winks at me, and my mind races through the follow-up appointment with the OB. So much has changed in the past few months. A new person living on the mountain, a new future to look forward to—a totally different future. I’m going to need to get a baby room ready. I’m going to have to figure out paternity leave and childcare. Maybe start researching schools and shit.
Jesus Christ, I’m really doing this. I’m actually going to be a dad.
There’s not a lot I’ve accomplished in life to be proud of. In fact, Calder and Luke and I have fucked up more times than we care to talk about this past decade. It was always a source of stress for my dad because we didn’t care about the family business. All we cared about was mountain life and fucking our way through half of Denver. I hate that it took him dying for me to finally get my shit together.
But this...this feels right. It feels important. This feels like something my dad would be proud of.
I just wish he was here to see it.
Trista
“For the love of God, am I going to have to buy new bras?” I exclaim as I sit across from Wyatt at the Mercantile and glance down at my quad-boob situation. After we met with the OB-GYN, he asked if I wanted to have dinner, and since I was too tired to cook, it sounded like a great idea to do with my new friend.
But my bra situation is very unfortunate, especially with this tighter top I chose to wear today. With a heavy sigh, I tug at the top of my bra to try to get my girls back in their jail cells. I used to be a solid D-cup, but whatever is happening to my chesticles now is most definitely not fitting in my D-cup bras. I hold my hand to the side of my mouth and use my best flight attendant voice as I add, “Ladies, please return to your assigned seats.”
I smile and glance up at Wyatt, expecting to get a chuckle out of him, but all he does is grab his glass of beer and take a long chug, downing half of it in one go. Lame friend.
He turns his scowl to the patrons watching us curiously. They’ve been staring ever since we walked in and ordered our food. It felt like one of those record-scratching moments when the city slicker walks into a biker bar. Jamestown sure is an interesting place. I haven’t really gotten to see much of it with my crazy work schedule, unfortunately. And the last time I stepped into the Mercantile was my first meeting with Wyatt, which feels like a lifetime ago now.
I lean forward to murmur under my breath, “Why does it feel like everyone is watching us?”
“Probably because you just talked to your breasts,” Wyatt deadpans.
I glare over at him and state the obvious. “They’ve been staring at us long before my titty talk. I just decided to give ’em a little show.”
Wyatt scowls as he lazily surveys the crowd, shooting daggers at anyone who doesn’t immediately look away. “I suppose they’re not used to seeing me with a woman.”
“Huh?”
His lips purse together as he rests his elbows on the table. “I don’t date, really, so seeing you here with me not once but twice is probably why everyone is rubbernecking. Just ignore them. Our situation is none of their business.”
Wyatt’s eyes glance down at my belly, and I can’t help but notice a tiny glint to his gaze that wasn’t there before our appointment today. I think the grumpy mountain man might actually be happy today. And he should be. Today was a big milestone for us both. All the baby books say that once you’re out of the first trimester, the morning sickness subsides, and the risk of miscarriage goes down a lot, so this is getting real now. And I have the peek-a-boobs to prove it.
Aside from the shitty morning sickness, I feel like I’m doing pretty good at this pregnancy stuff so far. I’m keeping my mind detached from the emotions of it and focusing on being the cow. And that stupid bed Wyatt bought me gives me the best sleep of my life. I swear it was crafted out of the foreskin of newborn babies it’s so comfortable. Not that foreskin is comfortable. I wouldn’t know, I guess. But I venture to bet it’s soft. Adult penis skin is crazy soft. At least what I remember of it. It’s been a while since I’ve touched a penis. Boy, this analogy is really getting away from me.
“Here you guys go,” the female bartender says, forcing me to tear my eyes off the happy mountain man as she places two plates of food in front of us.
“Thanks, Judy,” Wyatt says, ready to tuck into the hot roast beef he ordered.
“I’m Trista.” I offer my hand to introduce myself. If people are going to stare, they might as well know who they’re staring at.
“The one with the puppy from a few months back, right?” Judy asks as she shakes my hand. “Whatever happened to that sweetheart?”
“She was adopted!”
“Oh, that makes me really happy.” Judy’s eyes dart from me to Wyatt and back to me. “So are you the one who...” She gestures back and forth between us with a knowing look.
“Just friends,” Wyatt harrumphs as he shoves a forkful of beef into his mouth.
“And neighbors,” I add with a much warmer smile than Wyatt offers. “I’m living in the apartment above the barn on his property.”
“Oh, you’re living up there?” Judy’s eyes are saucers as she glances back at Wyatt. “I’d heard some rumblings around town about someone else driving up there a lot. How are you handling those crazy Fletcher boys?”
I cover a laugh. “I really only see this crazy one. He keeps me pretty well hidden, I guess.”
Wyatt grunts in response to that.
Judy lifts her brows and leans in close. “Well, you let me know if they get to be too much for you, okay? I’ve known them a long time now and seen them through some crazy stuff.”
Wyatt clears his throat and stops eating to eye Judy with a knowing look. She stops herself and pats Wyatt on the shoulder.
