Spring Into Love

by Chantel Rhondeau

  I sat at my desk and watched them. Would Flynn hate me for bringing home a cat? But then I remembered what Sylvia had said about the little girl loving her like a baby.

  Sylvia stood in my doorway, and I caught her out of the corner of my eye.

  “They’re aware she throws up?” I questioned.

  “Absolutely, I made sure of it.”

  “Let them know they can take her as soon as they’re ready. But I’m gonna miss her, she has such personality.”

  “Me too. She sits on my desk when you’re not here, but when you come in, it’s all about you.”

  It saddened me. I should’ve taken her when I’d had the chance. But if I’d adopted every pet that needed a home, I’d needed a place bigger than Stuttgart Farms.

  ***

  I met April and Sara for lunch before a light day of shopping. I didn’t want the fuss of a baby shower and promised them I’d let them in on a secret instead, so they agreed. After lunch, we visited a couple of baby stores and spent way too much money, but I couldn’t resist. The challenge was going to be convincing them to keep my secret.

  “Where am I going to hide this stuff so he doesn’t see it?” I uttered with a groan.

  “Where’s the opening to your attic?” Sara asked, scoping out the ceiling in the garage.

  “Heck if I know.”

  We finally found the opening for the ceiling steps upstairs by the guest room. I’d never noticed it, but who walks around looking at their ceiling? April climbed the steps and positioned herself just inside the opening while Sara handed up the packages. We were in the middle of conjuring more points to our plan when I heard him.

  “Honey, I’m home,” he hollered.

  Instead of getting busy to cover our tracks, we froze like untrained burglars caught in action. April raced down the steps and missed the last one, tumbling over Sara and me. There we were, splat on the floor when Flynn climbed the stairs looking for us.

  “What the hell are you doing?” He paused with his hands on his hips, just staring.

  We couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Please tell me you weren’t in the attic, Chloe?” He was pissed.

  “No, she heard something, so I was up there looking.” April tried to lie.

  “Here, let me look,” he said, while giving me a hand up off the floor.

  “NO!” we girls screamed in unison.

  “What’s going on, Chloe?”

  Each of us girls looked at each, waiting for the first one to come up with something quick. Lying wasn’t my specialty, but I tried my hand at it.

  “Okay, you caught me. I wanted to buy a New Daddy gift for you and was looking for a place to stash it. Of course now, I won’t hide it in the attic when I pick it up. Can you help me down the stairs? I think I twisted my ankle.”

  He picked me up in his arms and carried me down the stairs; all the while, I was making faces over his shoulder with the girls. They joined us in the living room with a baggie full of ice for my fake ailment, and nothing else was mentioned about the attic. Thank God.

  After dinner, my dutiful husband sat on the sofa and rubbed my feet and told me about his day.

  “You’re never going to believe what I almost did today,” I teased him.

  “Fall out of the fucking attic and risk going in to labor?”

  “Shut up, no I didn’t. I almost brought Penelope home.” I had his attention.

  “You didn’t because you remembered I don’t like cats, right?” He chuckled.

  But I never recalled him ever saying something in regards to cats. If he did, it was when I was in the coma. Bringing her home would’ve been a big mistake, I supposed.

  “Well, I have no memory of that, but I didn’t because she has been adopted. It was hard to let her go.”

  “You get too attached to all of those animals. Take Cherokee for example. You still go out and see him, even when you’re not working.”

  “Can’t help it. Besides, he’s fathered a new baby for us. Do you have any names picked out?”

  “Cherokee Howard,” he said flatly.

  “Huh?”

  “Something with Howard. It’s your maiden name, and Cherokee is how we met.”

  Horse names were hard, and they required research, especially when it came to racing horses. I thought about the name for the offspring of Cherokee that would be all ours, while I put the dishes away. Then I joined my husband in the bathroom, preparing for bed.

  “I have the perfect name for our new horse,” I paused and wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck.

  “Consolation Prize,” I suggested.

  Flynn laughed hard for a moment. “It’s perfect,” he said.

  ***

  My water broke in the middle of the night, and I was happy that one of us remained calm. And yes, that was me.

  Flynn pulled the car up to the ER, and I waddled into the reception area to hitch a ride up to Labor & Delivery with Flynn on my heels. They tried to send him to park the car. I thought the man was going to balk and throw down with the employees or worse, have a heart attack, until the male nurse standing at the counter agreed to play valet. I’m sure that things like that don’t happen very often, but playing valet for Flynn was easier than me playing referee. Besides, it was four o’clock in the morning, and the ER looked quiet as a mouse. Maybe they needed some excitement.

  The labor nurse got me settled and told me Dr. Stevens wasn’t on call, and Dr. Hinton would be doing the delivery.

  “Can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure, anything,” she replied.

  “Can you help me into the bathroom?”

  “I can do that,” Flynn offered.

  “With this monitor thingy, I’d rather she help me, sweetheart. You sit right there and relax.”

  He didn’t relax, he pouted.

  While in the bathroom, I let her in my secret. She slipped out of the bathroom and brought me my purse. I sent April and Sara a text telling them it was game time. The nurse helped me back in the bed while Flynn hovered.

  My labor progressed quickly, and my husband was an excellent coach. We had promised each other we wouldn’t have family and friends in for the first few hours, so we could welcome and bond with our little boy.

  When Dr. Hinton came in for the final check, she winked at me before leaving and returning with the team. All systems go. After almost an hour of pushing, our sweet baby was making an entrance into our crazy world.

  “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Davis, welcome your baby girl.”

  “What? No, it’s a boy, right?” Flynn asked.

  “No, come cut the cord and look. It’s a girl unless I’ve forgotten how to tell parts,” Dr. Hinton jokingly argued.

  Everyone in the room started laughing at my husband. He was in shock. When he looked at me, I couldn’t tell if he was happy or not.

  “You knew?”

  “I’ve known for a while, but I made everyone keep it a secret. Seems Drew and I had a bet I couldn’t outdo him, but I did.”

  Flynn took a seat in the rocker next to my bed and held our daughter in his arms. “Wow, this is awesome.” He wiped at the tears streaming down his face as he looked at her.

  “How do you like the name Flynn, young lady?” he asked her.

  “No way,” I teased, but somehow, it started to work a little magic on me.

  “I’m kidding.”

  She was beautiful with dark, curly hair. A gift from her dad and when she opened her eyes, we observed he’d given those to her as well.

  Flynn climbed into bed with me, and together we held our precious gift.

  “I can’t believe you pulled that off, especially when you decorated for a boy. Everything we have is for a boy, but I don’t understand. They ran a test and everything.”

  “The doctor told me the test wasn’t conclusive but the numbers looked like it would be a boy. You heard what you wanted to hear. It was too early to tell. When they said a girl on the first ultrasound, I was sure someone made a mist
ake but the second ultrasound resulted in the same.”

  “She’s beautiful and will be a great big sister to a little brother,” he teased.

  I only smiled.

  ***

  The next day, we took our little girl home, still unnamed. Daddy carried her into the house in her little blue covered carrier.

  “What do you think of the name Grace?” I asked.

  “Grace Davis? Hmmm, I love it.” He paused to take her from the carrier.

  When he kissed her forehead, love flowed from my heart.

  When we walked into the nursery, he laughed out loud.

  There on the wall were large, pink alphabet letters painted with daisies spelling out our daughter’s name, Grace.

  “Let me guess, a bet with Drew?”

  “No, a bet with April and Sara. They got in on the action in lieu of a baby shower. That’s what we were doing in the attic.”

  “Remind me to never trust you three together.”

  We walked around and touched all the pink and black decorations they had perfectly placed. Lamps, bedding, chair cushions, and the like. When I showed him to the closet, he held on to our daughter tightly with one arm like a champion with a football, as he sorted through the little pink, lacy outfits one by one.

  “Pink is the most beautiful color,” he said, stopping to gaze at our daughter. Then he turned to me and touched my face. “You are my perfect consolation prize.”

  The End

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  Hearts and hugs,

  Abbie

  About the Author

  With a creative personality, Abbie St. Claire has always had her nose in a book. Whether one for decorative painting, gourmet cooking or steamy erotica.

  “Heck, those books all go together in my mind. My imagination can easily picture a painting session that turns steamy and I certainly see trying to prepare a gourmet meal while getting deliciously sidetracked with a partner and finishing that meal for breakfast,” St. Claire says with a raised brow and twinkle in her eyes.

  An International Best Selling Author, St. Claire focuses her work on writing steamy romance from the “writing nook” in her Houston, Texas kitchen, where she’s currently at work on the “5 Avenue Romance Series.

  St. Claire has quite a bit in store for 2015 and 2016 with a new series, participation in several anthologies and even a golf-themed steamy novella slated for late summer. For her latest news, be sure to sign up for her mailing list at http://eepurl.com/U-fJz

  Website: www.abbiestclaire.com

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  Want to read more from Abbie St. Claire?

  The Creek, Contemporary Romantic Suspense Novel

  Christmas In July, Erotic Novella

  Conflicted on 5 Avenue, Erotic Novel

  Booty Call, Erotic Novella

  Kiss Me-My Ass, Erotic Novella

  Kiss Me-There, Erotic Novella

  Ace’s Key, Erotic Novella

  Keep reading for a glimpse into Ace’s Key

  Ace's Key

  Ace’s Key

  by

  Abbie St. Claire

  Dedication

  Dedicated to my own “Ace”…

  Chapter One

  Delayed

  Delayed

  Cancelled

  Delayed

  I was trying to fly out of Chicago and viewed the usual sights of the Flight Status Display Board. What did I expect; it was the first of December after all. Just my freakin’ luck. My head was roaring with pain, a fever bubbled through my body like hot lava, and my throat felt like it was wrapped in barbed wire when I tried to swallow.

  My phone was ringing, but the search to find it in my huge purse was a challenge, and of course, every seat was taken in the gate lounge, so I slid down the wall and parked myself on the icky carpet.

  “Hi, Jim,” I uttered into the phone with a raspy voice.

  “You sound worse. You need to get home and see a doctor.”

  “I’m at the airport, but all of the flights are delayed due to weather.” I really felt like biting the pansy-ass’s head off for sending me home early from the conference, so he could score accolades from my hard work, but I held back for sake of employment.

  “Where’s the key for the lockbox that holds the iPads in the booth?”

  Really? He’d lost it already?

  “Booth control closet, top drawer. Pink spiral key chain.”

  “Duh, the one place I didn’t look. It’s here. Hope you get home quickly and take the next few days to rest. Sounds like you need it.” The asshole hung up without so much as a thank you.

  He would’ve known where things were if he’d helped set up the trade-show booth, but of course, VPs don’t do manual labor, do they? His sole purpose of sending me home was so he could impress Rugger Sota, our new CEO at Dailey-Sarns Pharmaceutical Company with the new trade show booth I’d designed. Jim had had nothing to do with the project, other than handing it off to me. Sota had flown out to the Oncology meeting in Chicago with the intent of seeing our new marketing booth. But of course, due to an untimely sickness, my boss stood to score the credit, and he was taking advantage of the opportunity.

  “Mia Kennedy, please approach the podium,” the gate agent announced.

  “I’m Mia Kennedy.” I hoped my raspy voice didn’t scare her off.

  “We’ve moved you up to flight #10774 to Dallas, Ms. Kennedy, but you need to hurry. It’s leaving in ten minutes from gate A-17.”

  There I stood at gate C-31 with ten minutes to get to the A Concourse at Chicago-O’Hare. I think the airlines pulled this shit just to watch people scramble. There had to be a camera somewhere recording the frenzies that happened daily for some freak that had a funny-video-fetish. Seriously.

  Obviously, my luck wasn’t getting any better. I rushed, and running through the airport, plus my cough, left me winded as I approached the gate, but I made it just before the door was closed. At least my flying status came with a first-class upgrade. I took my seat and downed the adult beverage offered by the flight attendant before napping the rest of the way home to Dallas.

  I was grateful that my flight arrived mid-day; it allowed me the chance to grab some soup and get home before the typical Friday evening rush hour started.

  When I opened the garage door at my condo, I was shocked to see Connor’s car in the garage. He never got off early on Fridays.

  “Uh, hey babe. Why are you home?” he asked, taking my bags from me at the door.

  “I live here; at least, my name is on the lease.”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “You sound terrible. The flu?”

  “Probably. Haven’t you listened to any of my messages? I’m going to eat soup and go straight to bed.”

  “Hey, why don’t you lie down on the sofa. I’ll grab your pillow.” He rushed off with my bags and almost fell over them when the wheel caught the door casing.

  By the time he’d returned with my pillow and a blanket, I’d removed my coat and scarf and collapsed on the sofa.

  “Here, let me help you.” His behavior was way too accommodating, and he even removed my shoes.

  “You’re acting weird. Why are you home so early?”

  “Oh, I, um, I… I had this big report due, and the office held too many distractions, so I came home early.”

  “I appreciate the gesture, but I really just want to snuggle in bed and sleep off my cold medicine. Besides, you’re working.”

  I rose up to my feet and he qu
ickly stood in front of me. “You can’t. I…um, I pulled the sheets off and haven’t made the bed back up.”

  I knew the medicine and the cold had me in an unfocused fog, but guilty behavior was just that…guilty. For starters, when does he ever change the sheets? And secondly, coming home to do a report when he has a huge corner office, an assistant, and a secretary to do just about everything?

  “What is going on here? I changed the sheets before I left on Wednesday. You can help me put another set on, then I’m going to bed.”

  I walked into the bedroom and noticed my bed looked stark without any linens or even a mattress pad. I turned around to ask more definitive questions just in time to see Connor hastily stuff something into his pocket.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “Just some trash. I’ll go get the sheets.”

  “No, you’ll just get the truth out.” I placed my crossed arms firmly over my chest and sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed. I looked around the room and noticed nothing seemed to be like I left it. That was precisely when I noticed the bathroom door shut with the light on.

  I turned to look back at Connor, and his brown eyes widened as he quickly glanced to the door and back to me.

  Without any warning, I jumped up and barreled into the bathroom to find Laci, Connor’s assistant, sitting in my bathroom dressed, but with that just-been-fucked look.

  “Get out, both of you,” I ordered with my finger pointing the way to the front of the apartment.

  “Babe, it’s nothing. We just started drinking and got caught up in the moment. You know how it…”