Wicked Choice (The Wicked Horse Vegas #4)

by Sawyer Bennett

  “Don’t fuck with his heart,” Cage says in what can only be termed a menacing tone.

  “Why would I fuck with his heart?” I ask sarcastically. I mean… it’s my heart I’ve been focused on, knowing it was going to break at some point in the future.

  “You wouldn’t do it intentionally.” His tone is bland and unenthused. “But you’re so focused on yourself and the decision you have in front of you. I don’t want you to lose sight of the fact that Bodie cares about you.”

  This isn’t a surprise. Of course I know Bodie cares for me. If there was ever any doubt, it was put to rest when he ordered me to go to bed while pirates were attacking the ship. He was worried about me, and couldn’t be effective.

  Worried.

  About me.

  My fingers rub at the bridge of my nose. I let my eyes close in a brief moment of respite from Cage’s accusing look before I let out a sigh and open my eyes. “I won’t hurt him. I care about him, too.”

  “Yeah,” Cage says softly… in agreement with me. But then his tone hardens, “But not enough. Make it so you care about him enough so you make a better effort not to hurt him. Either go all in or cut him loose, but this in-between shit spells disaster.”

  A lump forms in my throat that has nothing to do with shame or anger. Instead, it’s a knot formed from cold hard truth. I’ve let myself get close to Bodie. He’s come to care for me, and me for him. But I keep that barrier up, knowing I can’t give much more without sacrificing my own heart.

  I also know that’s not fair to Bodie.

  Swallowing, I level my eyes on Cage’s. “I won’t hurt him.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Bodie

  I purposely wait until eight PM to call my parents. I’d come home after our appointment with Dr. Anchors, riding high on the thrill of an ultrasound we hadn’t expected. It only came about because I was bitching and moaning having to wait another four weeks, and Dr. Anchors had laughed at me.

  “We’re actually going to do a vaginal ultrasound today,” he told us, and I had a zing of pure electrical excitement flow through me. “We really only use it in higher risk situations or to pinpoint conception date, but you’re pretty clear on the date it happened. Still, let’s check your baby’s heartbeat out.”

  And then he did.

  It was amazing. While he gently circled a wand inside of Rachel, I practically leaned all the way across her on the examination table to get my face as close as possible to the screen. Rachel sort of grunted and pushed at me, but then I grabbed her hand and squeezed so hard she let me be.

  I couldn’t tell what the fuck I was seeing, but we heard the heartbeat. So fast and strong.

  “It’s a girl,” I declared.

  Rachel rolled her eyes, and Dr. Anchors told me we’d find that out hopefully at sixteen weeks. On a more sobering note, we told Dr. Anchors we wanted the amniocentesis, and that’s scheduled to take place at the same time.

  Still, when I walked in my house, I was riding high on the first tangible proof that there is something growing inside of Rachel that belongs to me. There was no way I could keep this from my parents anymore, and while I am not looking forward to leaving Jameson Group and all my friends and teammates, I am so looking forward to my kid.

  I walk into my kitchen and sit down at the small, round table that seats four. I got it at a garage sale. The legs are uneven, so it wobbles when I rest my arms on top. Tapping on the icon for FaceTime, I dial my mom’s cell and wait. My heart is thumping madly, both terrified and excited to share the news with my parents.

  My mom’s beautiful face appears on the screen, and I can see she’s in the kitchen. I figured she’d just be finishing up the dishes from supper, which is why I waited until now to call.

  She blows a breath of air up to push her bangs back and grins at me. “FaceTime? Now that’s a nice treat. You look good, sweet boy.”

  I rub my face along the jawline, feeling the scrape of stubble on my face. Of course my mom would say that.

  “You look better,” I tell her with a wink. “When are you going to leave Dad and find yourself a young hottie?”

  My mom blushes, and I hear my dad in the background say, “I heard that.”

  Then his face pushes into the range of the camera on her phone. While my mom still has a youthful face barely marred by wrinkles or time, my dad’s face is weathered from countless hours out in the sun working the farm. He started wearing a beard a few years ago, and it’s shot through liberally with a steel gray against his dark hair. But his eyes are a light hazel, sparkling with the inner youth of a man who is as strong as an ox and could probably still whoop my ass.

  “Hi, Dad,” I say with a grin.

  Mom nudges Dad to the side to take up more of the camera. “Guess what? Millie Perkins got elected Mayor of North Platte.”

  I went to high school with Millie’s daughter, Samantha. I also know this is a lead in.

  “And Samantha’s moved back home,” she says with a sly smile. “She looks fabulous.”

  “Not interested, Mom,” I chide. She’s forever trying to set me up, as if a pretty girl would get me to come running home.

  A pretty girl would not.

  A baby would.

  “So, I actually have something important to talk to you both about, and wanted to do it face to face, so a video chat was the next best thing.”

  Both of their faces pinch tight with immediate concern, so I rush to reassure them. “It’s not bad.”

  My dad’s face relaxes, but my mother’s does not. She leans in closer to the camera. “Lay it on us. We can handle anything as a family.”

  “It’s not bad, Mom,” I drawl with an amused shake of my head. “I promise.”

  Dad chuckles, but Mom doesn’t look convinced.

  I take a deep breath. “Okay… there’s just no good way to lead into this, so I’m just going to say it, and then you can ask questions. I got a woman pregnant, and I’m going to be a dad.”

  My dad’s eyes bug out of his head, but my mom’s turn soft and tender. She’s already imagining all the ways to spoil her newest grandchild.

  “Oh, honey,” she murmurs. She tilts her head to the side, and her eyes fill with tears. “That’s wonderful. You’ll make a wonderful father. Won’t he, Geo?”

  She turns to look at my dad, but he’s all about the business of how this happened. “Who is this girl? And are you going to get married?”

  I give a slow shake of my head, trying to brace myself against the disappointment I know I’ll get from my mother. “Actually no. It was an accident. Not planned. And um… well, we’re not really together.”

  “What do you mean ‘not really together’?” my dad asks with a cocked eyebrow.

  “I mean we have no intentions of being a couple together in the future.” It’s the first and simplest thing that comes to mind.

  “Which means you’re together now,” my dad concludes, and I cringe internally. He’s making this complicated.

  “What we have is casual and has an expiration date to it,” I clip out.

  “It sounds like there’s something cryptic within that statement I’m missing,” my dad presses.

  I let out a gust of frustrated air and rub my hand over the top of my head. This is the part I’ve been dreading, because I know my kind, decent midwestern farming parents won’t understand. “Rachel… the baby’s mother… doesn’t want to raise it. I do. So, I’m going to be leaving Jameson and coming home after the baby is born. That’s what I mean by an expiration date.”

  My mom’s face crumbles, not for any reason other than she’s assuming I’m heartbroken over this turn of events. My mother, the romantic, probably believes that love created this baby and our love isn’t going to survive the circumstances.

  “Listen,” I say quickly to make them understand, and because I don’t want them disliking Rachel from the start. “Rachel is an amazing woman. She’s one of my teammates at Jameson, and we sort of got stupid one night and this happened.
She could have easily chosen an abortion… could have kept this hidden from me. But she didn’t, and she agreed to carry the baby. Just because she’s not ready to be a mom yet doesn’t make her a bad woman. I totally respect her decision.”

  I hate it, but I respect it.

  I hate it because I think she’s making the wrong decision. Not for me, but for her. I think she’s going to have terrible regrets one day, and I’d spare her that pain if I could. But I can’t tell her what to do. She has to figure it out for herself.

  I also hate it because I do care about her. I could see us really having something solid together as a couple. Over the past several weeks, I’ve come to know the real Rachel, and she’s a generously giving woman. She has so much to offer our kid. Fuck… I want what she has to potentially offer to me if I can ever figure out how to knock down the rest of her reticent barriers.

  “Bodie,” my mom says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Come home. We’d love it so much if you did that. I’ll help you. You can work the farm until you decide what you want to do.”

  My throat tightens because this is it. This is where I commit to a whole new life for myself.

  “I’d like that too,” I tell her.

  And I would. I’d like it, but I wouldn’t love it. While there is nothing nearer to my heart than my family, farm life is never what I wanted. Nebraska is never what I wanted.

  ♦

  There’s a knock on my door, rousing me from sleep. I rub at my eyes, pick up my phone from the coffee table where I’d laid it, and look at the time.

  12:37 AM.

  There’s another knock—three short raps that have me pushing up from the couch. I pad to the door and can see Rachel standing on the other side through the panes of glass. Her face is softly illuminated by the yellow glow of the porch light, and it strikes me how ethereal her beauty is at times. So different than the tough, badass woman I’m used to.

  I pull the door open. “Hey. Come on in.”

  She pushes by me, spins around, and accuses. “You didn’t come to the club tonight.”

  I scratch at the back of my head and give her a hang-dog look. I hadn’t promised her I would when she texted me a few hours ago, only that I’d try to make it.

  It’s the first time I’ve bailed on her invitation, but after talking to my parents tonight, I honestly just didn’t feel like it. My talk with them had brought me down low, a potent reminder that my life as I loved it was over.

  My career that brought me utter joy was done.

  Sure… I was getting something great in return, but I was losing so much of my identity. So what if it made me a little melancholy?

  “Sorry,” I mutter. “Just was tired tonight.”

  Rachel cocks a perfectly shaped eyebrow into a higher arch. “Bullshit. What’s wrong?”

  With a sigh, I turn away and head back to my couch. I flop down on one end, throwing my arm over the back. She walks silently toward me, taking a seat at the opposite end.

  “What’s wrong?” she repeats, this time in a softer, more concerned tone.

  I stare at her a moment, wondering if I should even share with her. I mean… we are nothing more than just fuck buddies, right?

  “Bodie,” she murmurs. “Talk to me.”

  That right there strikes at me deep. The tone in her voice that tells me she’s concerned.

  “I talked to my parents tonight,” I say, rubbing at the stubble on my chin.

  Her eyes grow soft with empathy. “And they’re upset?”

  My smile is weak. “On the contrary… they couldn’t be more thrilled. Me coming home with a baby in tow. My mother’s dreams are being totally fulfilled.”

  Rachel has always had an expressive face when she chooses to show what she’s thinking, and I can read her loud and clear. She knows I don’t want to leave Jameson. She knows I’m cutting a part of myself away by doing so and returning home.

  And she knows it’s her fault for not stepping up to the plate to be a mother.

  “Don’t even look at me like that,” I say as I lean across and take her hand. “Your choices have nothing to do with me. And I spent a great deal of time telling my parents how much I admire you for giving of yourself so I can have this baby. I’m good, Rachel.”

  To my surprise, Rachel scrambles across the couch and pushes herself onto my lap. She loops her arms around my neck and rests her head on my chest. “I wish I were braver. I wish I could grab onto this the way you have.”

  I bring my hand to the back of her head, stroking a thumb over her hair and just holding her to me. “You’re one of the bravest people I know. Making the decision to follow your heart… to keep your career. That’s a brave decision, Rachel.”

  She makes a sound deep in her throat that tells me she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. But I don’t try to press the point home, because frankly, I want Rachel really thinking about this.

  Again, it goes back to regrets. I’m afraid she’s going to have massive ones, and one thing I’ve come to learn about this woman is that when she goes all into something, she puts her soul on the line. I’m afraid her soul is going to get crushed when she realizes one day what she’s lost.

  Rising from the couch, I cradle Rachel in my arms and walk back to my bedroom. “No more talking,” I tell her. “We have better things to do.”

  Rachel lifts her head slightly to press her lips to my throat. She doesn’t say anything, just nods in agreement, and that’s good enough for right now.

  CHAPTER 18

  Rachel

  My eyes flutter open. For a moment, I’m completely disoriented. Then I take in the warm body behind me and the arm locked around my stomach.

  I feel Bodie’s breath on my shoulder. Strong and steady.

  Just like Bodie.

  Most of our hookups have been at The Wicked Horse, but last night was a bit different. When he asked me to stay, I didn’t feel compelled to run.

  A rumble in my belly has me taking stock of the morning situation. No nausea, which is happening less frequently, and a full bladder.

  That means bathroom first and raiding Bodie’s fridge second. Maybe I’ll cook us breakfast.

  When I roll out of bed, I’m surprised to see it’s close to 9:30. I never sleep that late, but then again, Bodie and I didn’t get a lot of rest last night either. The memories make me smile, and I reconsider waking Bodie up with my mouth before eggs and bacon.

  Bodie’s house only has one bathroom set between the two bedrooms. It’s small, and the decor and fixtures date back to the 80s. Because we make such good money, most of the people at Jameson spend their money on fancy houses, cars, or other toys. Not Bodie, though.

  He drives a truck that’s probably at least five years old, and this house is nothing to write home about. I’m not surprised. He just doesn’t seem like a frivolous guy, but that’s not to say he won’t throw money around. Him paying two thousand for us to have use of the room at The Wicked Horse speaks volumes.

  I’d thrown one of Bodie’s t-shirts on in the early morning hours after the last time we fucked, as well as slipped my panties back on. I’m totally comfortable in my nudity, but for whatever reason, I’ve never felt comfortable sleeping without some clothes on. Bodie teased me about it while he stayed completely naked when we finally decided to get some sleep. He told me that was the “soldier” in me, always wanting to be ready should danger sneak up and catch me unawares.

  I hike Bodie’s t-shirt up since it swallows me, and then pull my panties down. As I sit on the toilet, still a little groggy from the heavy and very comfortable sleep I had in his arms, my gaze lands on the crotch of my underwear that’s stretched between my knees.

  It takes me a moment to understand what I’m looking at, but once I do, I can’t control the piercing shriek that comes out of my mouth.

  “Bodie!”

  I hastily grab toilet paper and wipe, my heart absolutely shriveling as it comes away with some light pink blood on it. Same color as the tiny spots in
my panties.

  Bodie comes crashing into the bathroom, still naked and hair sticking up all over the place. “What’s wrong?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I just hold up the toilet paper and then look down to my panties while I stupidly sit on the toilet.

  His keen eyes take it all in, and when his gaze lands on my panties, he hisses through his teeth. “Shit.”

  I can feel panic starting to rise, but then Bodie is gently pulling me up from the toilet. I toss the tissue in as Bodie squats to pull my panties up.

  “Okay… we’re not going to panic. Dr. Anchors said some light spotting is normal in the first trimester. Is this the first time you’ve seen blood?”

  I’m completely mute so I just nod.

  “Okay,” he says. This time, there’s an air of calm confidence in his tone. He takes me by the elbow and leads me to the bedroom. “Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to get dressed and drive to Dr. Anchors’ office. I’ll call on the way there.”

  He releases his hold on me and starts to efficiently walk around and pick up our clothes. He hands me mine and has to give me a gentle push. “Get dressed, Rachel.”

  I finally move, the urgency of the situation penetrating the fog of my panicked thoughts. I manage to get dressed. By the time I’m tying my shoe laces, Bodie’s standing by the door with his keys in his hand.

  When I reach him, his hands go to my shoulders and he peers down at me. “Rachel… I’m sure everything is fine, okay?”

  I nod, still not able to speak. All I can think about is China… gushing blood and horrible cramps and…

  “Rachel,” Bodie says a little louder, and I blink at him. “It will be okay.”

  I hear him.

  I even understand him.

  He’s telling me that no matter what happens, it’s going to be okay. It’s a lovely sentiment, but one that he’s so very wrong about. This is the biggest reason I’ve been so stressed about this pregnancy, because I was afraid I’d do something to ruin it.

  What if this is because I went to Singapore? Or maybe it’s the way I train and workout? Maybe I’m not eating the right types of food, or what if… what if it’s because of all the fucking I’ve been doing with Bodie? We’ve been exuberant to say the least.