by Heidi Rice
“Oh. My. God. Gabby! Best. Present. Ever,” Keely announced having ripped the wrapping off her gift, too. “Will you look at this guy’s pecs…” She coughed theatrically. “I mean puppies!”
“Oh, for Chrissake. Puppies my ass,” Jonah muttered indignantly while pulling the calendar toward him for a better look. “You’re the mother of my child. You should not be ogling half-naked men.”
“I shouldn’t?” Keely recovered control of the calendar and continued to flip through. “Just a reminder…I gave birth, darling, I’m not dead.”
Keely and Jonah were the parents to adorable Sabrina who would be a year old just after the first of the year. Their daughter was a blonde spitfire who was a carbon copy of her mother in looks, brains and temperament, which meant Jonah was wrapped around the little girl’s tiny pinkie. Jonah had acknowledged more than once that between Keely and Sabrina he had lost his man card.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Kyle grabbed the calendar, and sent an accusing look to his girlfriend. “You bought the ladies pictures of other guys nekkid? What the hell?”
“It’s art,” Gabby announced, not all that convincingly. “And I bought one for myself, too,” she said, utterly unapologetic. “To keep me warm at night when you’re away being a hero. Plus, these guys have raised almost three million dollars with the sale of the calendars. Helped numerous charities like the Children’s Hospital and many animal rescue organizations.”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “Well, if it’s for charity, that makes it okay.”
“This is the dog lover’s version,” Gabby continued, undeterred. “And there is a cat lover’s version, an animal lover’s version, and two calendars with only the firefighters.” When Kyle playfully grimaced, she patted his butt. “You know you’re the only first responder I want to see naked, Kyle Cavasos.”
Giving Gabby a lopsided grin, he wrapped his arm around her waist, kissing her forehead. “Well played.”
Kyle looked mollified—those two were so gone over each other.
But then the other men piled in, taking the calendars off the women to leaf through them.
“They have pet dogs! That’s cheating,” moaned Todd.
“Didn’t Brett have Duke in his shot?” Kurt supplied.
“Doesn’t count, that’s a work dog, these are rescue dogs, which makes them cuter,” Todd grumbled some more.
Some of the others weighed in to sympathize with Todd.
“At least it looks like the poor bastards had to wax, too,” muttered Logan. When was he ever going to get over the chest waxing?
Then Gabby added, “For the 2020 calendar, they’re doing an international version.”
Charlie’s heart rate jumped. “What does that entail exactly?”
“They are going to use firefighters from all over the world and will pick one from the States. So what do all of you guys have to say to that?”
Kyle shook his head. “One calendar is enough for me.”
Several of the other guys agreed, but kept thumbing through the calendars.
But then Lyle Tate silenced them all. “Man, these guys are seriously hot and cute! We are going to have to up our game. We totally missed a trick not bringing our pets to the party. Next time we get nekkid for charity, I’m posing with Bronte!” he said mentioning the rescue dog he and Emily had adopted together.
“I had Zero in a few shots, but they didn’t make the calendar.” Jonah’s rescue puppy, a Lab mix, had been thoroughly entertaining at the photo shoot on Copper Mountain, but Charlie had been more interested in photographing the shirtless pilot with his helicopter, not the dog.
“Does that get me off the hook for the next one?” Jonah asked.
“There’s not going to be a next one!” Logan announced, swiping the calendar off Lyle and handing it back to Emily. “Here you go, Em,” he said. “And next time you get the urge to warm up my brother’s important bits in a truck on Main Street, try checking out these guys instead will you? So I don’t have to arrest you both.”
“Absolutely,” said Emily, getting into the spirit of things as her cheeks lit up delightfully.
“Spoilsport!” Charlie announced.
Charlie had to admit though, as she checked out Lloyd the Aussie firefighting hunk’s tattoos—and his puppies, of course—and Cale, another Aussie hunk and his adorable St. Bernard, and a host of other hot firefighting hunks with their dogs, Gabby and Lyle both had a point. The shots as well as the models for the calendar were gorgeous and subtly sexy but also seriously adorable. If she ever did manage to find a good enough excuse to get Marietta’s first responders to strip off for another calendar shoot she was totally getting them to bring their pets.
*
As the laughter and conversation rang round the bar and an intense and in-depth examination of all twelve of the Aussie firefighting hotties finally moved on to other topics, Charlie began to feel the adrenaline which had propelled her through the past hour start to wane. And the iffy feeling in her stomach, which she’d noticed on and off for days, returned.
She really hoped she wasn’t getting a recurrence of the stomach flu which had hit her a month or so ago and laid her low for over a week. She rubbed her tummy, which felt bloated and heavy. Her breasts had been pretty sensitive of late, too. Perhaps it was her period, she frowned. When was the last time she’d had one?
“Todd’s ordering a plate of appetizers and a few pitchers of beer to share, is there anything you want?” Logan asked beside her.
The mention of beer and anything fried suddenly had the nausea bouncing up into her throat. “Um, actually no.”
Logan’s hand rested on her hip. “Hey, are you okay, Charlotte?” he asked, the concern shadowing his eyes making her heart swell—right along with the roll of nausea.
“I’m fine,” she said, because she didn’t want him to worry about her, no matter how wonderful it felt having him worry about her.
“You’re not fine. You’ve gone pale,” he said, having none of it. “Do you think it’s the stomach flu again?” he asked, reminding her of how attentive and adorable he’d been the whole week she was ill. Checking on her pretty much every other hour, carrying her down into the living room and sitting her on his lap in the evening, making her chicken soup as she started to feel better. Even making tender love to her after helping her shower and change after a week spent in bed—although that had required a lot of persuading.
“Let me take you home?” he said. “You’re still too weak for this.”
“I’m not weak, Logan, really I just feel a little out of sorts.” It didn’t feel like the stomach flu, she decided.
“Is everything okay, Charlie?” Em asked, having picked up on her iffy vibe, too. It was a twin thing.
“I’m just a little tired,” she replied, but the words dropped into silence, because it was one of those weird occasions when everyone stopped talking at once and the only other sound than her comment was Dolly Parton singing a country version of “White Christmas” on the jukebox.
“What’s wrong?” Keely added. “Are you all right?”
“Charlie you look washed out,” Molly said.
Pretty soon all her friends were flocked around her like a bunch of mother hens. It would have been aggravating, if it weren’t so sweet.
She described her symptoms to her gal pals to put their minds at rest. No, she definitely didn’t think she had the stomach flu, that had been horrid and this felt… Well, not anywhere near as awful.
“Wait a minute you’ve got bloating, tender breasts, nausea and you’re more tired than usual?” Gabby asked, ticking off Charlie’s symptoms. To which Charlie nodded. “And your period is how long overdue?”
“Oh, boy.” Keely grinned and leaned back into the seat. “Yeah, you need to check that. Right now.”
Charlie fished out her phone, and scrolled back to the date of her last period. She was on the pill, so she liked to keep track of them on her phone, when she remembered… But wait a minute… She kept scrolli
ng. Then swore softly under her breath. “I should have checked sooner, it’s been six weeks.”
“Honey, is there any chance you could be pregnant?” Gabby asked quietly.
Logan tensed.
“No, no I’m on the pill,” Charlie said. Not sure where the little leap in her pulse had come from. And why it didn’t feel like a panicky leap—the way it had twenty months ago, when she and Logan had had a pregnancy scare not long after hooking up—but an excited one?
She and Logan hadn’t discussed babies since she’d taken that test, twenty months ago.
Things were very different between them, now. She loved him to bits. Hell, she adored him. And she loved her life in Marietta. But kids! That had always been a commitment she’d shied away from. Logan had made it clear to her all those months ago, when she’d freaked out and jumped on a bus, after taking that first pregnancy test—even though it was negative—that he would love to have kids, with her, but as far as he was concerned it would always be her decision. There was no pressure. None at all. And he’d meant it, because Logan Tate never broke his word.
But how did she feel about it now?
“When you had the stomach flu, what was it, about a month ago?” Gabby asked.
Charlie nodded.
“Could you possibly have thrown up a couple of your pills?”
“I… I don’t know. Maybe?”
Gabby’s mouth spread into a kind smile. “I think maybe you should take a pregnancy test, honey. Just to be sure.” She delved into the big shoulder bag she’d taken the gift calendars out of earlier in the evening, and produced a testing kit. “And it just so happens I have a couple spare.”
“Why do you have spare pregnancy testing kits in your purse?” Molly asked, because she was sharp like that.
“Well… I…” Gabby quickly looked behind her in Kyle’s direction and motioned him over. “We might as well tell them.”
“We’re moving in together because we’re getting married.” Kyle stood at Gabby’s side and put an arm round her hips, then raised his eyebrow as if he weren’t quite done with the sentence.
A look passed between them, so sweet and intimate and joyful, Charlie’s excited pulse went into overdrive. Gabby nodded imperceptibly as if giving Kyle permission. Suddenly the whole bar’s attention seemed to be on the happy couple as he said, softly, but with quiet power and absolute conviction, “And we’re having a baby.”
The cheering and congratulations, and copious back-slapping from the guys, took a while to calm down. Once everyone had gotten over the joy of a new Men of Marietta baby announcement, Gabby pressed the pregnancy testing kit she’d been trying to give Charlie ten minutes ago into her hand.
“Gabriella’s got some spare pregnancy test kits in her purse, because we took three this afternoon.” Kyle grinned down at his fiancée and placed his hand on her belly.
“I bought five of them from Carole at the pharmacy, so I’m surprised it’s not all over Marietta already. Anyway, we couldn’t be happier that we’re pregnant.” Gabby beamed. “Here, take it, do it at home tomorrow morning, just to be sure.”
Charlie’s fingers curled around the cardboard box.
Could it be possible? Could she be pregnant, too? With Logan’s child?
Because what had been terrifying only a little over a year ago, didn’t feel terrifying anymore.
Logan placed his hand over the box, his voice strained. “It’s okay, Charlotte, we’ll do it tomorrow in private. I’m sure it’s gonna be negative, don’t panic.”
He was worried for her. And worried for them. Worried that she might bolt again, like she had the last time especially if the test was positive this time. But she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Still, his tense expression and the shadow of doubt, maybe even panic in his eyes, made her realize how far they’d come.
Because Logan Tate did not panic easy.
“I’m so sorry, Charlie,” Gabby said, her face full of concern now too, clearly picking up on Logan’s reticence—and realizing she may have made a horrible misstep. “I shouldn’t have suggested it in public.”
“That’s okay,” Charlie said, as the pulse of excitement became a bubble of hope so big it was going to burst if she didn’t do something about it soon.
Gabby hadn’t made a misstep. And Logan was wrong to be worried. She wasn’t that frightened, shallow, defensive, reckless girl anymore, who had breezed through life trying desperately not to attach herself to anyone or anything. She was happy now, and stable and confident—really confident, not brash, mouthy, pretend confident—and so much more sure of herself. All because of Logan and what they’d made here together in Marietta.
Even sure enough of herself and her place in Marietta to take a pregnancy test without freaking out in front of the whole of Grey’s Saloon on the second Friday in December. Because she knew, whatever the result was, she could handle it.
“How accurate are these?” she asked Gabby.
“Very,” Gabby nodded and gave a wink.
“I mean, if I took it now, instead of in the morning, would the result be the same?”
“You don’t have to do that…” Logan began, sounding even tenser.
“But I want to,” Charlie replied, hoping he could see how unafraid she was.
“You can get a false negative, occasionally,” Gabby said, because Charlie suspected she’d read the instructions from cover to cover while taking three tests with Kyle, earlier. “But from what I understand, you can never get a false positive.”
“Cool. All right, then. Let’s go do this thing.” She tossed the test kit up in the air and then caught it, feeling brave and bold, as the bubble of anticipation swelled in her throat. “Any of you ladies want to give me some moral support in the restroom while I go pee on a stick?” she asked Gabby, Em, Keely and Molly.
She wanted her twin and all her other sisters with her when she found out the result of the pregnancy test. To her relief, they all nodded enthusiastically.
Keely even jumped up from her seat. “This is so exciting! I love babies! Jonah, we need to have another baby.”
“Another—” Jonah drilled Kyle and Logan with a lethal stare. “Both of you, this is your fault.”
Logan though looked shell shocked as Charlie headed off to the loo with her besties. But then his brother Lyle looped an arm round his shoulder, and whispered something in his ear. The slow, sexy smile curved his lips as his gaze locked on hers and she knew, whatever happened next, she would always have that smile—which was the only thing that mattered.
*
“There’s two blue lines! Two! Charlie, we’re having a baby!” Em yelled while waving the pee stick in the air, as if it weren’t covered in pee.
Charlie’s heart bounced so far into her throat it was hard for her to breathe, but she found just enough lung function to huff out an ecstatic laugh as her friends all congratulated her.
I’m going to have Logan Tate’s baby and I could not be happier. Best. Christmas. Ever.
“We’ll be waddling around Marietta together next summer!” Gabby said. “How cool is that?”
“I actually can’t wait!” Charlie said, realizing she actually meant it.
How weird to think she was seriously looking forward to being the size of a house, or even being in agony for hours on end—because Logan’s baby was bound to be enormous if it was anything like the rest of him, she thought, cheekily.
“You need to tell Logan, do you think he’ll mind hearing it in front of the whole bar?” Molly asked breathlessly, once they’d all calmed down enough to actually get a grip. Or some semblance of a grip. “Of course, we can totally keep a straight face if you want to tell him in private,” Molly added.
“Molly,” Charlie said, trying to sound stern when her heart was bursting. “You look as if you’ve just swallowed a unicorn. You’d injure yourself if you tried to keep a straight face. Admit it.”
“Okay,” Molly laughed. “I admit it, but for you I would totally be prepare
d to try.”
“Well, as a friend I’m not going to put you through that,” Charlie said, feeling fabulously magnanimous. “But you all need to let me say it first, okay?” She grabbed a few paper towels from the dispenser on the wall to the chorus of agreement. “Hand over the evidence, Auntie Em.”
Emily grinned as she passed over the pee stick. “Auntie Em? I like the sound of that,” she said as she washed her hands.
Charlie grinned back before holding the pee stick aloft. “Okay, let’s give Logan the news before we all start pooping unicorns.”
She marched out of the restroom with her entourage behind her.
She spotted Logan immediately, sitting by the bar where she’d left him five-minutes-that-seemed-like-a-lifetime ago. His face was stiff and guarded, but she could see the hope behind the concern as she crossed the bar toward him. And loved him all the more for it.
She slapped her paper-towel wrapped pee stick—which she now considered to be a pee wand—into his open palm, ready to start the rest of their life.
“I’m up the duff Logan Tate and it’s all your fault,” she said, unable to contain the cheesy grin. “So you better be prepared to make an honest woman of me.”
Because, if you were going to get one Christmas miracle, why not ask for two?
*
Logan stared at the small plastic stick in his hand, and the two bright blue lines emblazoned across it and his heart exploded like a firework in his chest—shattering to smithereens the box where he’d locked all the yearning he’d kept a lid on for so long.
“For real?” he whispered. “We’re gonna have a baby?”
He couldn’t believe it.
He lifted his head to stare at Charlotte. Who looked flushed and beautiful and so happy. Hell she looked overjoyed—because she was having his baby.
It was like all his Christmas wishes had come true in one precious moment. And it wasn’t even Christmas yet.
“For real, Deputy Hardass,” she whispered back.
“And did you just propose to me?” he asked.
“I might have done,” she said, her eyes twinkled brighter than the lights they strung on Miracle Lake when it froze. “Did I hear you say yes?” she asked.
