Apparently, there's something about a girl involved too, but that's a whole other story.
Our story though, is right where it needs to be. Danny and Oliver are about to go in as investors on another project, which should ideally free up some time for when our baby boy comes, which can't be soon enough. And honestly, if I hear one more "bun in the oven" joke - yeah, no, I get it, and yes you're very hilarious - I might go a little crazy.
So somehow, like random ingredients percolating and mixing together to make something wonderful, two opposites became one, perfect, delicious whole.
Oliver glances up at the grey London sky. "Looks like snow." I grin as wraps his arms around me in the chilly air as he leans in and kisses me. "I love you," he murmurs, his hand coming down to rest on top of my swollen belly. "Both of you."
"I love you too," I say, kissing him. "And I know she can't wait to meet you."
"Oh it's a she now, is it?" Oliver grins. We've decided to wait and be surprised, not that it stops either of us from guessing.
"Oh of course it is!" I smile at him. "As if the world needs one more male Beckett running around."
Oliver grins. "Very fair point." He glances at his watch. "Now, get in the car, luv. Let's go do Christmas."
"Yes, chef," I managed to get out, before his lips sear to mine just as the snow begins to fall.
~ The End ~
Did you enjoy Cockney? Scroll forward for a two-chapter preview of Crude: A Stepbrother Romance!
Crude: A Stepbrother Romance
Knox Shepherd is a total d*ck. A really, really big one.
He's a swaggering, cocky prick who blows through women the same way he roars around town on that motorcycle of his - fast.
Sure, I wasn't supposed to be sneaking out to bars or singing at open mics, but that didn't give him a right to talk to me like that. No one's ever said those things to me before - filthy, raunchy, crude suggestions that made me literally run for the door. Suggestions I wish didn't make me feel so funny inside.
But hey, no big deal, right? It's not like I'd ever have to see that smug, foul-mouthed jerk ever again.
If only he weren't standing with that cocky smirk on my front porch right now, right next to my father's new fiancé. His mom.
Yeah, that unbearable prick is going to be my new stepbrother.
OK, he's gorgeous, and every time he looks at me I can practically hear him whisper deliciously dirty things in my ear. And maybe something about his cocky swagger makes me think I should break some rules for once.
...Maybe something about him makes me not so sure I want to go to college still holding on to my V-card.
But I definitely don't want to lose it to my stepbrother. Ew.
So why can't I stop thinking about it?
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A B O U T T H E A U T H O R
Aubrey Irons enjoys writing about bold, sassy, and intelligent women and the dominant, cocky, and quite typically forbidden alpha males who love and lust for them; gripping stories, happy endings, and enough heat to keep things extra steamy! In the real world, Aubrey is kept plenty entertained by her own tattooed Marine husband, their precocious and adorable three year old, and one very ill-behaved puppy.
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What a DICK!
I can feel my heart practically jump out of my chest as I slam on the brakes, narrowly missing the motorcycle that cuts me off at the foot of my own driveway. The guy on the bike only slows down enough to flip me off though, before he roars off.
My pulse thumping a mile a minute, my hands tight on the steering wheel at their ten-and-two position, and my foot still jamming the brake pedal to the floor. But mostly I'm just confused as I watch in shock as the biker goes tearing up the driveway to my father's estate.
Who the heck is that?
I mean, I know they say most accidents happen within a mile from home, but "the mailbox" is kind of pushing it! On top of that, there's the embarrassment that, as totally cautious a driver as I normally am, I know I wasn't paying attention back there.
The other distractions of the day go tumbling through my head as I frown and start to follow the biker up the curving wooded drive to the main house. The dull, nagging whine in my head about my father wanting to have an "important talk" with me after my piano lessons today about Amanda, the woman he's been seeing, comes thudding back to the forefront. Amanda, the mysterious woman I've only met once, even if I know they've been dating for more than six months now. And whatever, it's fine that he's dating. Heck, a guy like my dad should have been back in the field the day after my mom took off, the way she did.
So yeah, my dad dating is fine, but there's something weird about dating the widow of one of his top foremen that's a little weird. And a little classless, if you ask me.
But whatever.
At the top of the drive, it's my turn to stick my finger out the window and flip off the guy on the bike, who's now kicking back the stand and swinging his leg back over it. I slam the car into park and yank the keys out as I step out into the dry Texas heat.
Alright mister, you and I are gonna have word-
Oh.
The guy's back is to me as he shrugs his leather jacket off, and slips the helmet off his head. His hand comes up as he stretches, the fingers raking through his short dark hair and the sleeve of his white t-shirt straining tight over the defined muscles of his bicep. A half-sleeve of tattoos curves around that arm, swirling around those muscles, and I find myself blushing a little as I stare.
He's ignoring me and my brake-screeching driveway entrance, his back still to me as he turns his head just a bit to bring a pack of cigarettes up to his mouth and draw one out with his lips. His very perfect, very sexy lips there on his very perfect, very defined jaw.
Um, wow.
I'm taking a step forward when two things happen. At the top of the curving stone steps, the front door to the house opens and my dad steps out with a blonde woman on his arm.
And then the mysterious and sexy biker in my driveway turns around, looks right at me, and suddenly starts grinning.
Oh you have got to be kidding me.
Stranger? Well, yes, but not really. Because I know him. Well, I've at least had the displeasure of meeting him
He's the boy from the open mic songwriters show the night before last at the Music Hall. The show I most certainly wasn't supposed to be at, and the show my father thinks I was at Megan's house studying during. The open mic show where I don't play the Mozart and the Tchaikovsky from my lessons, I play and sing my own songs.
Oh my God, what is HE doing here?!
He's the boy who loudly shushed his buddies when they started to cat-call me on stage. The boy who met me right off the stage with a grin and a look that promised all sorts of bad decisions and offered to buy me a drink. A drink I, of course, declined seeing as I'm underage. The boy who leaned close and asked when I was playing next as he ran his finger through a stray lock of my wild red hair and tucked it behind me ear. The boy who had me absolutely tongue-tied and hanging off of his words until … well, until he got quite crude with them and I marched away, wishing I'd slapped him.
And of course, the boy who's been in my thoughts ever since then, in ways he definitely shouldn't be, because he's so obviously trouble.
And here he is grinning at me and lighting a cigarette next to his motorcycle in my father's driveway.
Seriously, what is happening here?
My dad beams at me as he walks down the stairs with the woman I now recognize as Amanda, my dad's girlfriend. Somewhere in my head, an alarm bell starts to go off quietly.
"Ah, good! You're both here!"
The alarm bell is joined by a second, and they start to get louder.
"Paige," He smiles widely at me; "You remember Amanda. Well, we were going to wait, but we've got some very exciting news for you." He looks towards Mr. Trouble; "Both of you!"
The wailing of the alarm bells starts to crescendo inside my head.
"Paige, this is Knox, Amanda's son."
The driveway starts to spin under my feet as the warning bells reach a cacophony, and my dad and Amanda are just standing there smiling.
"Knox already heard, but Paige, we wanted to be here together to tell you that Amanda and I have decided-"