Gen Pop

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  But, after a long discussion with her doctor, we’d decided that since the race was so early in her pregnancy, and she’d been training for it for so long, that the risks to the baby were minimal.

  That didn’t mean that I wasn’t worried as fuck for her.

  Like right now, I wanted her to eat the goddamn banana that I had in my hand almost bad enough to shove that reporter to the side and give it to Crockett.

  Crockett could tell that I was losing my patience, too.

  Eyes sparkling, she answered the reporter’s next question, which I must’ve missed.

  “I’m exactly twelve weeks pregnant today,” she answered. “And I feel great. Well, I feel exhausted and ready to fall asleep on my feet, but still great.”

  I imagined that running twenty-six miles—I’d never wanted to do it or had tried it myself—that you felt like a pile of shit regardless of whether you were pregnant or not.

  “Well, congratulations.” The reporter beamed, her eyes turning to me. “You’re Crockett’s husband?”

  I nodded. “I am.”

  The reporter, one for the UK, grinned. “Bang up job, friend. Bang up, job.”

  Then she moved on to the contestant that got fourth, leaving my woman finishing her banana.

  “You need this one, too,” I told her. “And I have a chocolate milk for you when you’re done.”

  I pulled that out of my back pocket, and her eyes went hooded. “You say the sexiest things to me.”

  And, sweat and all, I couldn’t stop myself from pulling her into my arms and hugging her close.

  When she was pressed in close, I moved my hand to her belly and pressed in lightly. “How’s the baby?”

  “Good.” She looked up into my eyes. “Didn’t make me pee once.”

  • • •

  CROCKETT

  My husband.

  God, he seriously had no clue just how much he did for me.

  Even worse, he didn’t understand that just by being who he was, a loving and caring man, every single woman in a fifty-mile radius wanted to be me.

  My hot, sexy, very supportive man was holding me tight, pressing his hand to my belly like we were the centers of his world, and he was wearing a shirt that declared me his.

  Yes, nothing could be better.

  “What now?” he asked. “Because you have a stand full of fans that want to say hi.”

  I looked over to the stands and saw Danny, Belinda, and Nora with her family standing there, waiting patiently beside Six. Six who kept glaring at them every few seconds as if she wanted to rip into them.

  Then I moved my eyes away from them to see Cleo and Rue standing there, arms around each other, Zakelina pressed between them.

  As well as the entire Souls Chapel Revenants MC, members and their significant others.

  Hell, there were even some Dixie Wardens there, too.

  My entire crew. My family unit. My support system.

  “We should probably tell them about the baby before they hear it on the news in a few seconds,” I admitted.

  Zach chuckled against my throat, drawing the eyes of second place.

  The tall, elegant black woman that I’d been staring at for the majority of the race looked envious of me.

  I smiled at her, acknowledging that I knew how lucky I was.

  She winked and said, “We have to be given our medals first. Then I think we can go.”

  That was my thought, too.

  I looked back at Zach. “Medals first. Then we can go.”

  He squeezed me close. “How about I go break the news. Because I can already see my mom looking at something on her phone. It’s bound to get out sooner rather than later. Then, we’ll meet up after you get your medal. Sound good?”

  I’d rather stay in his arms.

  But Rue’s eyes snapped up to mine, and I knew that she knew.

  “Shit,” I said. “You may want to head over there now.”

  Zach’s eyes went that way, and he started laughing. “Maybe I’ll just stay close to you. Mom will share the news.”

  I liked that idea better.

  That, and he could hold me and keep me on my feet, because I was seriously exhausted.

  Who knew running in the Olympics three months pregnant was so hard?

  • • •

  “How’s it feel?” Zach asked, his lips running down the length of my neck.

  “Surreal,” I said softly. “Like nothing I ever imagined.”

  When I’d skipped out on the Olympics when I was younger, I was glad that I didn’t know what I was going to be missing.

  Because this feeling, this high, wasn’t one that you could ever reproduce or walk away from.

  Zach traveled down my body, his mouth pressing against my barely there tummy that was a little bit more pronounced now that I’d just sweated out half my body weight in water.

  “Are you sad that Murphy couldn’t come?” he asked.

  “I think he was okay with the trade out,” I admitted.

  Murphy was the only one in the family that knew that I was pregnant.

  He didn’t get to come to France for the Olympics, but he knew a much bigger secret that he felt—and we agreed—was way more important.

  “What do you want to bet he’s told the entire store?” Zach laughed against my stomach, speaking so closely to it that his lips were brushing my belly with every other word.

  “Oh, there’s no doubt,” I snickered. “Everyone that came in today has heard that they’re not open this week because I’m at the Olympics, and that I’m now pregnant and giving him another great-grandbaby.”

  He growled.

  “So now that you’ve won this,” he said, going up on his elbows. “What’s next?”

  What was next?

  I didn’t know what was next.

  “Have a baby.” I shrugged. “And go from there.”

  His lips twitched. “So run and rear our kids. I think I like the sound of that.”

  “And feed you gourmet meals,” I said. “Don’t forget that.”

  His eyes gleamed. “I’ll never forget anything when it comes to you, baby. Never.”

  • • •

  I hope you enjoyed Zach and Crockett’s story! Up next is Catori and Laric in Inmate of the Month.

  Turn the page for a sneak preview.

  What’s Next?

  CHAPTER 1

  The worst thing ever is when someone new doesn’t understand your brand of humor, so you have to say ‘I’m kidding’ after every sentence so they don’t report you to the police.

  -Catori’s secret thoughts

  CATORI

  “Please, please, please,” Harlow, my best friend, begged.

  I groaned. “Why do I have to do it?”

  Harlow’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think that I want to possibly see my brother having sex?”

  Well, when she put it like that…

  “I’m watching it on your computer,” I grumbled. “And I’m not doing it here. It’s weird to do it here. With you. There are a lot of things that we’ve done together, but I’m drawing the line at this.”

  Harlow sighed. “You’ll have to have the computer back to me before work tomorrow. I leave around seven. I can swing by your house and get it before I have to be there at eight.”

  Harlow worked as a computer tech at a large accounting firm in Longview, about a twenty-minute or so drive from Kilgore where she lived. I, on the other hand, lived in the middle of nowhere, Texas.

  The closest town to me was Kilgore, but there was a smaller town called Souls Chapel, Texas that was almost as close. Though, they didn’t have anywhere near the number of things to do or eat as Kilgore did.

  Which inevitably made my decision on where to go when I needed supplies.

  “That works for me.” I paused. “But I have to be out of there by seven tomorrow myself. I have to run by the office and switch my car out with a new one, then I have to be at the motorcycle club guy’s house.”

  She kn
ew exactly who I was talking about, too.

  Everybody did at this point. I complained enough.

  “I…” A look crossed her face and she jumped up and squeaked. “I’ll be right back.”

  I sighed, used to this from her, the abruptness of her needing to use the bathroom.

  About a year ago, Harlow started to work out. Then she started to take protein. That protein made her fart and poop like a man.

  Let me just say, there are things that I’ve learned about my best friend over the last year that I just never wanted to know.

  She got up and picked the computer up before handing it to me.

  “Watch it. Save me a thirty-minute trip in the morning.” She handed me the computer. “Let me know. I have to go use the bathroom. It might be a while.”

  I snorted at her lack of filter, then looked worriedly at the computer.

  Or, more specifically, the porn video that she had up on her computer.

  I looked at the thumbnail of the video and was surprised by the room.

  It was gothic Victorian. Like everything in the video was everything that I loved about an older house.

  The man was sitting in the chair with a high back, velvet cushions under his butt and behind his back, and beautiful scrollwork in the wood.

  Wow. I wanted that chair.

  That was my dream chair.

  I was really into the gothic Victorian era, and I wanted one of those old houses on the hill like the Munsters had. Once upon a time, I wanted to be Wednesday Addams.

  Now, I’d graduated from wearing only black to adding purple and dark blue to my wardrobe when it was me choosing the color options—sadly, I worked for a new up-and-coming home health agency that specialized in children. Meaning they wanted us to look upbeat and happy. Which meant bright colors like hot pink, green, and cerulean blue.

  Green like the man’s eyes.

  Before I could stop myself, I clicked on the video and froze.

  Because, as soon as I did, there was a woman’s face in the camera.

  She was tall, willowy, and had blonde hair that was mostly covering her face. Likely, she’d done it on purpose so that nobody would know who she was.

  If I was doing porn, I wouldn’t want anyone to know that I was doing it either, making the need for secrecy necessary.

  Once she had the camera in place, she backed away, giving me a clear view of her outfit.

  She was wearing a flowy boho-style dress that hit her at the ankles, showing off some gladiator sandals that were absolutely to die for.

  She disappeared off screen, and it stayed like that for a good forty-five seconds.

  Right when I was about to fast forward, the front door of the house opened, causing my breath to hitch.

  My mouth all but fell open when I saw the man in black enter, one hand holding a case of beer, and the other hand holding an opened beer that looked to have been ripped from the package he was holding.

  He slammed the door closed with his foot and then walked off the screen again toward what I assumed was the kitchen.

  He came back moments later, bootless, and sat down on the dark velvet love seat.

  The back of the love seat was so tall that even though the man was sitting on it, it still towered over the top of his head.

  God, I loved that seat.

  I’d bet my life that it was super comfortable, too.

  And soft.

  The man shifted, bending to place his beer on the floor before getting rid of his socks and his shirt.

  He lifted a remote from the floor that was next to his beer, and then pointed it right at the camera.

  Or, likely, a television that was underneath the camera.

  I started to squirm in my seat as I saw him reach forward and pop the button of his jeans.

  But not because he was about to get started on anything—at least that wasn’t what it appeared—but because he wanted to be comfortable.

  There must’ve been a knock at the door, because he looked at something over his shoulder, and I could see a frown on the side of his face.

  Getting up, he walked around the back of the couch, and just over his head, I could see him opening his front door.

  The boho dress girl appeared in the doorway, a smile on her face.

  The man didn’t look happy to see her.

  He also didn’t look considerably excited when the woman threw herself into his arms and kissed him.

  I swallowed hard, thinking this was about to get crazy, because I had the distinct impression that this man really didn’t have any idea that he was being recorded.

  I mean, if I knew that I was being recorded, I would look at the camera, at least casually. Then I’d casually look away. The man’s eyes didn’t once stray above where he was watching the television. Nor did he casually turn back to look over his shoulder.

  Nope. He was solely focused.

  On the screen, the man’s head tilted, his sandy brown hair falling to one side, partially covering his face, making it to where I couldn’t see his expression.

  The woman, though? Her chest was thrust out as if she was anticipating his reaction to whatever she was saying. And she was dragging her hand lazily along the length of her lace bra that was just barely exposed by her dress.

  She bit her lip, and I could tell that she expected the man to take her up on whatever she’d offered him.

  He shook his head, his shoulders tensing, then jerked his chin in such a way that the hair moved out of the way, once again revealing his face.

  The woman’s face went from anticipatory to pissed in the blink of an eye. She crossed her arms over her chest, said something to make him shake his head, and then she left.

  It wasn’t until he closed the door and walked back that I realized that there was no sound.

  Like none.

  Why wasn’t there sound?

  I think I would’ve liked hearing his voice.

  I would’ve…

  “Hey there, Kitty Cat.”

  I felt my stomach sour when Harlow’s boyfriend walked into the room, his eyes solely on me. I slammed the computer closed, not wanting him to see what I was watching. Nor did I want him to have something to talk to me about. The more I gave him, the more he took.

  See, here’s the thing. I didn’t, under any circumstances, like Harlow’s boyfriend. He was brash, oily, and he made me feel like a lowly piece of trash when he settled his gaze on me.

  I hated him. I hated that Harlow was with him. And mostly I hated that I couldn’t avoid him because he was Harlow’s man, and they were semi-living together.

  “‘Sup,” I murmured, hoping that if I didn’t engage, didn’t look at him or talk to him any more than necessary, he wouldn’t hang around.

  Sadly, that was not something that ever happened when it came to Trent Thames.

  Trent Thames was tall, very good-looking, wealthy, and let everyone know that he does—and is good—at CrossFit.

  The sad thing was, he was probably really good at CrossFit. Hell, he’d inspired Harlow to become healthier and to live a fitter life. So there was some good that came out of him being with her, I guess.

  But there was also the hard truth of him being a slime ball.

  He could be good-looking all he wanted, but when it came to his personality, I didn’t think there was a woman alive that would find him attractive.

  The thing was, he wasn’t that way with Harlow.

  He was actually a completely different person, and it was weird to see.

  That was why I’d never brought it up to my best friend. Why, despite him grossing me out and giving me the heebie-jeebies whenever he was around, I allowed him to be with my best friend.

  Trent was tall, six-foot, which was about seven inches over my five-foot-five inches. And boy, did he use that height advantage when Harlow wasn’t around.

  “How was your day?” he asked, setting his shaker cup, his ever-present goddamn shaker cup, down onto the counter before giving me his full attention.<
br />
  I clicked on an ad on Harlow’s Facebook page, following the leopard print duck boots to a boutique’s website before seeing if they had my size.

  They did.

  “Kitty Cat, are you going to talk to me, or ignore me?” Trent asked smoothly.

  Luckily, before I could answer, Harlow came back into the room.

  “Probably ignore you if you’re talking about Thor,” Harlow chirped as she walked up to Trent’s side, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and walked to her protein shaker cup. She picked it up and shook it at him. “This was mine.”

  “I know.” He beamed at her. “But I couldn’t find any of mine this morning when I was leaving, so I borrowed yours.”

  “Well, you borrowing mine meant that I couldn’t take any protein with me to the gym today,” she scolded him. A normal argument between the two.

  See, Trent was also a selfish asshole.

  He knew damn well that Harlow only had one protein shaker. Meaning, when he left his eighteen in his car—still coated with protein powder—he’d just use hers, even if it put her in a bind. And, when he finally took the time to gather up his shaker bottles, he didn’t take them to his own house. He took them to Harlow’s, threw them in the sink, and expected her to wash them.

  Which was disgusting, I might add.

  Because nine times out of ten, that shaker cup was sitting in the heat, in Trent’s car, for at least three days. And let me tell you something, folks. Fermented protein powder was disgusting.

  It smelled god awful, and I had no clue why Harlow allowed it.

  “Sorry, doll.” Trent grinned. “And I still don’t see why she won’t give Thor a chance to explain.”

  Thor was Trent’s brother. Thor was, sadly, not taking the hint, either.

  “Give him a chance to explain why he was fucking that girl in Cat’s ride?” Harlow asked, fuming now.

  There wasn’t much that made Harlow mad, but Trent’s ambivalence to Thor’s actions made her hot.

  And set her off each and every time.

  Trent, seeing this, started to hold his hands up in a placating gesture. “Listen, I’m just seeing how sad he is. I know that he didn’t mean anything by it. He doesn’t love her like he loves Kitty Cat.”