Stealing Hearts (Wild at Heart #1)(90)

On a side note, the younger Calhoun brother recently fired Kacey after he received an anonymous tip that his employee was banging his wife Tiffany. Cough, cough.

Once the dust settled from Harlan’s maniacal attempt to steal our ranch, Rhett and I settled into married life. We’ve been doing a better job communicating, especially when we’re stressed or worried. I found a few marriage podcasts that we listen to that have been helpful, and we always make sure to discuss anything that’s been bothering us before bed so it doesn’t fester.

Between coaching at All-Star Cheer and sewing custom outfits for the NFL wives that Abby introduced me to, I’ve been pretty busy. I’ve saved up quite the nest egg from all those custom jobs. I’m so happy to not be that penniless girl I was a year ago. I can buy all the chickens I want.

Or, in this case, sheep.

Rhett agreed investing in sheep is a fantastic way to weather downturns in cattle prices. Since I have the funds, I’m buying the flock. In return, I’m becoming an official co-owner of the Walker Ranch with my husband and his brothers.

We crawl to a standstill, and I growl. We’re stuck in traffic. There’s never traffic in Wild Heart, but there is today. “Don’t tell me today’s the cowboy parade.”

He squeezes my hand. “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“Rhett.”

My husband chuckles, then lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to my palm. “It’ll be okay. I promise. Do you know how many calves I’ve delivered over the years? It’s gotta be hundreds.”

My expression goes flat. “Am I the cow in this analogy?”

He laughs. “Sweetheart, I would never say such a thing. Swear to God, you’re all baby. Well, and tits. You’ve got really big tits now.”

He makes a face to show me how excited he is about my boobs, and I chuckle. “Don’t make me laugh. My guts feel like they’re going to explode.”

His eyes grow serious. “If I could take that pain away from you, I would do it in a heartbeat. But since I can’t, let’s focus on the moment we meet our daughter. She’ll have your beautiful eyes and cute little nose. All your sweetness and sass. She’ll have her brothers and uncles wrapped around her pinky. I’ll probably have to threaten the boys who come sniffing around her with bodily harm if they touch her.”

He’s so sweet. I love my husband. I’m about to tell him that when a contraction tries to split my body in two, and I cry out.

He curses under his breath. Then he rolls down the window and yells, “Hey, y’all! Paige needs to get to the hospital. The baby’s coming!”

A cheer rises up from the sidewalk, and I peer out to see our neighbors and friends waving at me. They pause the cowboy parade so we can cross the street.

Panting, I wipe my sweaty forehead. “I don’t know whether I should be embarrassed or impressed.”

He smirks. “Impressed, definitely.”

Once we reach the other side of the street, he guns it, and we barrel through town.

I glance at my phone where I’m tracking my contractions. “Um. So this is weird.”

He glances at me as he takes a turn. “What’s weird?”

“My contractions were coming every five minutes, but now they’re a minute apart.”

He growls. “I knew we should’ve left sooner.”

“I thought it was false labor again.” He’s already rushed me to the hospital three other times. “I need to push.”

“Hang on.”

“No,” I groan. “I can’t fucking hang on. Our baby is tunneling her way through my vagina right now.”

“We’re almost there, Paige. One more minute.”

I don’t think I have a minute. Tears stream down my face as I prepare myself to deliver this kid in my husband’s truck.

But then he stops the vehicle, hops out, and starts yelling. My door opens and he scoops me up.

I wave at my body. “She’s here. I feel her head.”

His eyes widen, but he somehow manages to keep his cool. He sets me down. “Hang on to the truck.” After he closes the door, I grip the handle.

“Can I pull down your shorts?”

“Do it.” I glance around. The parking lot is pretty empty, and my t-shirt is on the long side, but I’m in too much pain to care.

He pushes down my shorts and undies as I curse myself for not leaving for the hospital sooner.

A nurse runs toward us with a wheelchair, but she’s too late. I squat and push because my baby is coming right the fuck now. I screech, “She’s here!”

My husband reaches between my legs with one hand, holds onto me with the other, and looks in my eyes. “I got you. And I’ve got her. Do your thing, sweetheart. Breathe through it, like we learned in Lamaze class.”

He mimics the breaths, and I breathe with him. My husband did every class with me and read all the baby books even though this is his third child. The confidence radiating from him calms me down immediately.

I can do this.

I push again.

My legs shake with the pressure and pain. I blink, and a second later, there she is, our sweet, precious baby, who lets out an angry howl.

“Oh, my God. She’s beautiful.” A sob escapes me, and Rhett presses a kiss to my sweaty forehead.