Merry Christmas, Baby(10)
“Yeah.” She let out a shuddery sigh. “It’s just that my back and legs hurt, and I have cramps.”
“Let’s sit down.”
“Not yet,” she said, and didn’t lift her head from his shoulder. She thought maybe she could sleep right here. Ford’s arms were strong and warm.
Not as strong and warm as Sawyer’s, though. No one was as strong as Sawyer, inside and out. From the very beginning, he’d both driven her insane and made her feel protected and safe for the first time in her life.
“He’ll be back soon,” Ford said quietly.
“You a mind reader?”
“No, you’re just not all that good at hiding your feelings.”
“Last week, I couldn’t sleep. At midnight I decided I had to have cran-apple juice. Cran-apple juice, Ford.”
“So you got thirsty.”
“At midnight,” she reminded him. “Sawyer told me he’d go first thing in the morning. The poor guy hadn’t gotten home until ten, and he had to be at work early for a meeting. I knew he wouldn’t have time to go in the morning so I threw on sweats and drove to the store. I stood there in the aisle of the grocery store and burst into tears because there was no cran-apple juice. There was a gallon of cranberry juice and a gallon of apple juice, but no cran-apple. I was going to have to buy the two gallons and mix them together. But the gallon jugs were too heavy for me to lift.”
Ford sighed. “You’re such a nut.”
“I know!”
“What happened?”
“Sawyer had followed me to the store. He bought the two gallons and shepherded me home.”
Ford laughed. “The man’s a sucker.”
“The man’s got to be insane to still want me.”
“Chloe, look at me.”
He waited until she lifted her head and met his gaze. “He’s taking these jobs because he wants to build the addition to your house for the baby, not because he wants to be away from you.”
“Are you sure?” Chloe asked with what she thought was a perfectly even voice, proud to think she was hiding her fear that it wasn’t true, that Sawyer was taking the DEA jobs because she’d turned into an endlessly pregnant shrew.
“Very sure,” Ford said, and hugged her tight. Or at least as tight as he could given that she was the size of a VW Bug.
“And when this job is finished,” he said, “he says he’s done, no more out-of-town jobs.”
“I don’t want him to give up anything for me,” Chloe said.
Ford laughed. “Have you ever seen Sawyer do anything he doesn’t want to do? We both know that, if he’s walking away from the DEA, he’s doing it because he wants to, because it’s the right thing to do.”
Chloe closed her eyes and sighed, suddenly far too exhausted to hold herself up.
“Help me get her back to her chair,” she heard a few moments later, feeling herself shift from Ford’s arms so that she was between two men.
“Here, babe.” It was Lance, her best friend and—up until getting pregnant—her cohort in crime. Sawyer had taken Lance aside and threatened bodily harm and dismemberment, promising to follow him all the way to hell if Lance got Chloe in trouble even once during her pregnancy. Lance, fighting a very losing battle against cystic fibrosis, hadn’t been in the least concerned, but out of respect for Chloe and her marriage, he’d done his best.
“Drink this,” Lance said, and Chloe opened her eyes.
She was back in her seat and Lance had brought her tea. “I’d rather a hot toddy,” she murmured, and sucked in a breath when the baby kicked her in the ribs again.
“Drink,” Lance said, not cracking his usual wiseass smile, which meant she’d worried him. A mean feat as nothing worried Lance, not even death.
“I’m okay,” she promised him. “We’re both okay.” And then she hoped that was true as another vicious cramp gripped her. She did her best to let herself fall into it, listening with half an ear as conversation went on around her.
“The snow’s coming down like mad,” she heard Maddie say in a soft, concerned whisper. “Soon as there’s a break, we’re taking her to the hospital.”
“Agreed,” Tara said.
“Not until I have cake,” Chloe managed. When the pain broke, Chloe looked up to tell them she was fine, but she stilled in shock. At first she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her so she rubbed them and focused again.
No trick. Her heart couldn’t be that cruel as it squeezed tight because Sawyer was there, right there, crouched in front of her.
He was in weather gear, dusted in snow. His expression was blank to anyone who didn’t know him. But she did know him and had no trouble catching the irritation in those brown eyes.