Best Friend's Ex Box Set (A Second Chance Romance Love Story)

by Claire Adams

  I loved this part of her life, and I if I had it my way, she’d stay pregnant for the rest of her days.

  I watched her look out the window at me, and she seemed relieved. The wind whipping through the yard shuffled the clothes on my back, and they seemed to push me to the stairs of our porch. Even the earth was beckoning I go home to her, and when she flung the door open, she stepped out—stomach first—into the cool autumn breeze.

  “How’re my two girls?” I asked. I dipped down and kissed her sweating forehead before I leaned over and kissed her stomach. I felt a small kick against my lips, and I couldn’t help but swell with pride, but that same kick that I admired almost took Cheyenne to her knees.

  “Whoa, whoa, let’s get you sitting down,” I said.

  “She’s been wreaking havoc on my life today,” she said with a grunt.

  “Like mother, like daughter.”

  “Shut up,” she groaned.

  “You know you love it.”

  It had been three years. Three years that I’d had this beautiful woman in my life, and now she was ripping her entire body apart to have my child. There wasn’t a second that went by that I never understood how incredibly lucky I was to have the devotion and passion of a woman as strong and sensual as Cheyenne, and every day I tried to show her just how much I cherished what she gave me. I sat in front of her and put her feet in my lap, and when her shirt rolled up over her stomach and showed me the purple stretch marks cascading around her belly button, all my tongue wanted to do was trace their outlines.

  “You look beautiful,” I said.

  “I’m a beached whale.”

  “Hardly.”

  “How was work?” she asked.

  “Busy, as usual. These new hours are really bringing in some decent money, but it’ll half kill me to work them.”

  “I’m telling you, you should hire someone. Especially with this little one on the way.”

  “And I told you, I officially hired Michael. He’s on vacation to figure some things out with his farm, and when he comes back, he’ll be full time.”

  “Good. You need some help over there anyway,” she said.

  Cheyenne ended up taking some of the money and creating the summer camp program she had always dreamed of. The first summer was such a hit that she added four more weeks and expanded the advertising to the surrounding areas, and the next two summers brought in enough cash flow for her to fully expand. Our relationship had blossomed in every way imaginable, and after that second summer session of camp, she officially moved in.

  The grantors weren’t happy about her moving off-site, but things had increased so much with the restaurant that I had to quit ranching altogether. After a long talk one night with Cheyenne and Tiffany, we decided to officially close Smith Ranch and instead make our ranch simply the expansion Cheyenne had been seeking. Her horse sanctuary expanded into our domain, she was able to take on more horses—and even other animals—to rehabilitate, and her farm became a full-time, fully-functioning horse preservation farm for children who wanted to come learn, ride, and take care of horses.

  She had her main summer camps there, and she did her rehabilitation work at Smith Ranch.

  Which, in all reality, was now simply her home.

  For a while, we weren’t sure what to do with her house. It stayed unused for quite some time, but eventually, it got to the point where Cheyenne needed full-time help. Bouncing between her preservation ranch and her newly-expanded animal rehabilitation sanctuary was wearing her down, and when she put herself in the hospital because she was neglecting her health, I put my foot down. She kept saying she didn’t have the funds to hire anyone full-time to help her, and I finally convinced her to let me take a look at her books.

  When I realized she had all but fully paid her ranch off, that freed up the funds necessary to hire someone full time.

  My sister was the obvious choice, but even that didn’t suffice. When the third summer camp kicked up, it took both of them to run it, leaving Michael and I to hop between the budding restaurant and Cheyenne’s Horse Sanctuary in order to keep it afloat. We hadn’t made it through the summer before we realized she would have to hire on another full-time hand for her operations, and that’s when we started interviewing people.

  There was a man from out of town who had recently moved to the area and was looking for a job. He didn’t have much in the way of experience with ranches, but he had grown up around horses all his life until his parents passed. He explained all he knew about taking care of horses and talked about how he had single-handedly taken care of his parents’ small farm a few counties over while making sure they were alright, and I could tell the story resonated with Cheyenne.

  But she was sold when he mentioned that he’d have to sell his horses if he couldn’t find a way to provide for them.

  “Why don’t you just bring them with you?” she asked.

  “I don’t have a way to get them here,” he said.

  “We could help you pick them up. You said there are only two horses, right?”

  I wasn’t sold on the idea of having some out-of-towner come randomly work her ranch full time while bringing his own horses along, but Cheyenne was dead set in her decision. We went and picked up his two beautiful horses, and we set him up in Cheyenne’s old house until he could find himself a place. A few weeks turned into a few months, and when we found out how well he was taking care of the house, we roped it into his salary and let him stay there so long as he was working full time for us.

  Everything settled into place like it needed to, and it equally divvied all the responsibilities out without anyone being run into the ground.

  Well, until we got pregnant.

  “I can’t wait to get back out there with my horses,” Cheyenne groaned while I massaged her feet.

  “I know you miss them, and I’m sure they miss you. But you’ve still got one more week of bedrest before the doctor comes to check on you again.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Speaking of bedrest, why weren’t you resting when I pulled up? You were bent over fussing with something when I pulled into the driveway.”

  “You spying on me, Mr. Smith?” she asked coyly.

  “Only if I get a nice look at that wonderful backside of yours.”

  “I think there’s a mouse in the house. I hear it scurrying, but I can’t find it.”

  “I’ll set out some traps before we get to bed. Sound good?” I asked.

  “Perfect,” she said. I dug into the arch of her foot, and her eyes fluttered closed. Her ankles were swelling so bad I could no longer see their protrusion, and I started to wonder if that was something to be worried about. Bedrest was common for women in their third trimester, and the doctor said it was only precautionary, but I was ready for him to come back over and check on her. The last time he’d come, her blood pressure was a bit high, and she was a little too anemic for his liking.

  “How have you been feeling today?” I asked her.

  “Do you ever think about Bill?”

  Her question ceased my movements.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “I mean, he went into witness protection, right?”

  “Yeah. Sold out all his contacts to the FBI. Why are you suddenly wondering about him?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I guess with Rick getting out soon and everything, it’s all just coming back.”

  I set her feet down and got up off the floor. I had a feeling she might be worried about that, so I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her swollen, beautiful body into the crook of mine.

  “You know he’ll be tracked for quite some time after he gets out of jail,” I said. “You won’t have to worry about him coming around here, either. I’ve still got those cameras up.”

  “I know, I know. I just…”

  I knew she was thinking about the letters he’d written us from jail. Apparently, he’d found God and was feeling all sorts of guilt and remorse for what he’d done, but none of us k
new if it was really true. He sent letters every week for a while, but then they dissipated to once a month. One of the reasons I hired Rick was because he was down and out and had no family, and part of me was wondering if he was simply reaching out because he was lonely.

  “You think he’s just doing it to sway the parole board?” Cheyenne asked.

  “I honestly don’t know. I mean, I hope it’s true. I hope he feels terrible for what happened and what he put you through, and I hope he gets out and does something productive with his life. But I need you to know that you’re safe here. Both of you. Forever, as long as I’m here.”

  I put my hand on her stomach, and I automatically felt another kick. Cheyenne grimaced at the feeling, but I couldn’t help the smile that slid across my lips. My little girl would be a fighter, just like her mother, and there was a part of me that took pride in the idea of raising a strong, independent young woman.

  “Do you ever regret it?” I asked.

  “Regret what?”

  “You know what I’m talking about,” I said with a snicker.

  I wondered some days. I wondered—with the life we had cultivated and the roadblocks we still hit sometimes with expansion and money—if she ever regretted not taking the job that was offered to her at the silent auction all those years ago. I wondered if there were moments where she envisioned her life going differently. I wondered sometimes if maybe she wanted to leave and try to venture out on her own again.

  I twirled the sparkling diamond ring on her left hand that I had given her just before we found out we were pregnant, and I took her hand and brought it to my lips to kiss.

  “Well, it really would’ve set me up nicely,” she said. “A retirement plan and weekends off. I wouldn’t have to deal with ordering stuff or dealing with hiring helping hands. I could have gotten out of this town that reminds me sometimes of all the bullshit we endured.”

  I held her close to me and closed my eyes. Images of her barn on fire flashed through my mind. Images of the terror in her eyes when she first heard that deafening silence as the horse trapped in the barn grew still. The memory of the flames tugged at my heart and clenched my throat.

  In the history of my lifetime, I had never felt so helpless and scared as I was at that moment when Cheyenne was hurting over the loss of that horse.

  “And I also bet the helping hands at that horse sanctuary would have provided some grade-A eye candy,” she said, with a grin.

  “Hey, now. Watch that mouth of yours.”

  “No, you idiot,” she said. “I haven’t thought about it in years.”

  She turned her head up towards mine, and as our lips connected, for a brief moment the images faded away. My chest settled, my heart fluttered, and it felt like the vice on my throat was slowly being cranked open. Hearing her say she hadn’t made a mistake made me feel like I wasn’t holding her back from her aspirations. I had always encouraged her to do what she wanted and not to take me into consideration when mapping out her future, and I was scared that I’d ripped that from her the moment she’d gotten pregnant.

  “I love you so much, Colt Smith. In a couple of months, we’re gonna be parents, and then we’ll start planning a town-wide wedding everyone can attend. Your chef can show off more of his dishes and Tiffany will love decorating the town square, and our child will be there to witness us pledge our love for one another. This is all I ever could have dreamed of or wished for when it comes to my life, and I’m just lucky that I’m marrying my best friend, my lover, and my own personal grade-A eye candy.”

  “Now, that sounds more like it,” I said. I nibbled at her lips with a kiss, and her swollen body turned into mine. In an instant, my blood began to heat. No matter how much she complained about her stomach and no matter how many stretch marks tore into her body, she could still rile me up even after the hardest of days. Her tongue danced along mine while her bouncing breasts mashed against my chest, and I slid to the floor between her legs before I started shimmying her out of her pants.

  “Feels like someone could use a little treat,” I said.

  “God, yes,” Cheyenne whispered.

  I peeled her layers back until her red, juicy pussy was bared only for me, and I pressed my lips to it before I slicked my tongue into her depths. For as long as I lived, I’d never get tired of the way she would buck into my face and wrap her legs around my head. I’d never get tired of how tightly she’d grip my hair and how close she’d want me to her body, but the best part was the words that easily fell from her lips whenever I could finally throw her plump, pregnant body over the edge.

  “I love you, Colt Smith, I love you.”

  I would happily do this every day for the rest of her life just to hear those words from her lips.

  Click here to continue to my next book.

  Get Each of My Newly Released Books for 99 Cents By Clicking Here

  Click here to get my book Swipe for free

  DADDY NEXT DOOR

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

  Chapter One

  Vivie

  I switched the station when the opening riff of Guns 'n' Roses' Sweet Child O' Mine hit my ears. It had always been one of Dad's favorite tunes — one he played on guitar a lot and one he'd sang to me as a kid. It didn’t matter that he'd been gone for four years; not a day went by that I didn't miss him or think of him. And something like that song reminding me of everything he’d been as a dad and how he loved me; it was just too much to take after the day I’d had. Not to mention, I sure as hell didn't want to break down and start crying in the middle of five o' clock traffic.

  I kept one hand on the steering wheel as I flipped between stations, stopping on a local talk show where the radio host, Arthur Valley, was interviewing a local detective. I pricked my ears and fine-tuned the radio so I could hear more clearly; crime stories always fascinated me, and it sure wasn't as if we had many crime sprees here in Irvine. So, my interest was piqued.

  “Good afternoon, and welcome to the show, Sam,” Arthur said. “I want to point out to our listeners that 'Sam' isn't our detective's real name; he needs to remain anonymous since he is working undercover, and if his identity is discovered, that would put Sam in serious danger.”

  “That's true, Arthur,” said the man. “I deal with some very unsavory people on a daily basis.”

  “And that, ladies and gents, is why we've also put a filter on Sam's voice. He doesn't actually sound like Darth Vader in real life.”

  I chuckled at that. The guy did sound a lot like Darth Vader was coming through my speakers.

  “Unfortunately, no, I don't,” Sam commented with a laugh. “But how cool would it be if I did?”

  “Well, why don't we get started? First of all, thanks for coming on the show today, we really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule to be here with us.”

  “Not at all, Arthur. The residents of Irvine need to know what's happening behind closed doors in this town, and some of it ain't pretty… it ain't pretty at all.”

  “What exactly is going on here in Irvine that's got you working undercover?”

  “I’m afraid we've got a problem here, Arthur. No, not just a problem: a crisis. And I'm not exaggerating when I say that. We have a serious, serious problem affecting our youth,” Sam said.

  “What is this problem?” Arthur asked.

  “Drugs. Local high schools – and middle schools as well – are riddled with a new drug that's been sweeping across Southern California.”

  “What are we talking here, Sam? Simple pot, or cocaine, or is it something as bad as meth or heroin?” the talk show host questioned.

  “While those remain problem drugs not only here but acr
oss the entire United States, what we've got here is something entirely new. The kids are calling it Rocket because it gets you very high very quickly. We're fairly confident it's being cooked up in a mobile lab out in the desert or perhaps up in the mountains, as distribution seems to be limited to Southern California. Although, it's starting to spread to other parts of California, and it won't be long before it crosses state lines and makes its way into other states.”

  “Tell us more about the drug itself,” Arthur urged. “What does it look like? What effect does it have? Who's using it? What are the dangers?”

  “Well, Arthur. It's a blue powder, and what makes it dangerous is how quickly it's absorbed by the body – hence the name Rocket. You don't have to snort it; you can ingest it in all sorts of ways. It's tasteless, so it can just be mixed into soda and drank. The effects, which kick in within a minute or two, are feelings of euphoria, extremely lowered inhibitions, mild hallucinations and slowed reflexes and motor skills. The side effects are terrible, though. Not only does it create intense cravings for more – which, of course, leads to addiction – it physically eats away the insides of the user. It's highly acidic in nature, and contains a number of extremely harmful substances that should not, under any circumstances, be inside the human body.”

  “Gosh, that sounds terrifying! How widespread is the use and distribution of this drug?”

  “Like I said, it's worming its way into all of the local high schools, and—”

  I switched stations. Teenage drug use was far too depressing to think about. With kids as young as junior high students getting into this sort of stuff, I couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with the world. I couldn't bear to think of the kids at my daycare getting into this sort of stuff in a few years when some of them headed to middle school. I'd always had a great fondness for kids, and I really loved the little tykes at my daycare, even if they could be something of a handful sometimes.