Page 22 of Blood of the Damned: Thorn (Vaughn Winery #1)
Ledger
The level of miffiness—a new word he’d created to match his feelings—Ledger was harboring at that exact moment was high. He glowered at the unsightly beige-brown tent sat on the counter in front of him, causing an affront to his very sensibilities at what was acceptable clothing to wear.
It all started when he struggled with gravity getting into his car.
Then, to add insult, he couldn’t fit behind the steering column without it pushing uncomfortably against the girls, despite how far he pushed the seat back.
That, however, made it impossible to drive with how far away everything was.
Did he see the logic in that—no, he didn’t.
It had taken him ten sweaty minutes to get back out of the car, after refusing help from Ottie, who’d come across him.
From then on, things had gotten decidedly worse in his opinion.
He had to roll out of the squished space onto his hands and knees on the gravel under the watchful eye of several other staff who’d appeared.
Had his mood improved when Ottie had fetched Thorn? Why of course not, because even though it was Ledger’s day off, Thorn, who had an important client meeting to discuss the logistics of a rather large blood-wine shipment, came to his rescue.
Thorn’s thoughts had been on lockdown when he’d seen Ledger and had insisted on driving him to town. It was why Ledger hadn’t mentioned he wanted to go in the first place, resulting in Thorn becoming upset at him not asking. It all added to the overall miffiness of his mood.
So, Ledger had sucked it up with as much dignity as his lumbering state would allow and with a hand on his ass lifting him into the SUV, he’d insisted when they reached town that Thorn drop him off and return to the meeting he was delaying.
At Ledger’s insistence, he had reluctantly gone, but Ledger knew how hard it was for him to leave.
That had been an hour ago, and things had not improved when Ledger discovered, after walking the streets, that he was the hot topic of conversation.
The stares had been bad enough, but the whispering about how big he was led to talk of it being the reason Thorn had mated and subsequently married him.
He’d barely resisted chewing out the unknown shifter—who Ledger had decided must have been one of Thorn’s fuck buddies—when he scoffed at a woman he was with at her suggesting it was a true match.
He did not want Thorn to have to come back to town and bail him out of jail, because that was what he knew would happen if he let out all the angst stored up inside him.
Sailing past had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done in his life, but he had so yay to him.
The final straw on the very large hay bale weighing him down was when the one and only store in town that supplied maternity wear, the reason he’d gone through the tableau of woes, offered up a beige tent. A beige fucking tent!
Up to now, he’d been using his mate's shirts to hide the fact his slacks buckled low under his belly. He was thankful his ass had not outgrown his slacks, not that the ass part was anywhere near his backside. More like the back of his legs, making it harder to walk—waddle. It was why, when he’d gotten up that morning and struggled to get the belt done up under his belly, he’d given in to what he’d been ignoring.
The need to purchase maternity clothes, only there was no way in hell he was going to put on what the shop owner had laid on the counter.
Not in any universe was he that desperate.
“Is this all you have… in this color?” Ledger stared at the unsightly garment and shuddered violently.
Never in a million years would he deem to even try it on.
Especially not in that epically godawful color that would wash out his skin tone.
Another shudder he couldn’t suppress ran through him as he touched the coarse fabric that would rub his over sensitive skin.
The cut wasn’t much better. It had side vents of all things, rather than panels of material.
A frown marred the shopkeeper’s brow as she picked up the top. “These are very popular,” she replied awkwardly.
“Popular for who?” he asked, doing his best to refrain from rudeness. It was hard.
They might be popular with the cowboys, but Ledger would admit he was a clothes snob.
He spent a good portion of his budget on good quality clothing.
It was a necessity when he wanted to portray a level of professionalism in his role.
And maybe he didn’t need to spend so much as he did, but sue him, he liked to look and feel good.
“ For everyone ,” she insisted, eyeing him up and down critically.
“Not everyone,” he replied waspishly. “I’d never be seen dead in such a monstrosity.” Well crap, maybe he couldn’t contain the rudeness after all.
The woman, somewhere in her mid-forties, blushed, looked down her nose at him, reaching for the top to snatch it away, giving him a dismissing glance. “This is what we have.”
Icicles dripped from each word, and Ledger choked on a sob. It was all too much, and he burst into tears.
He’d have found her alarmed expression comical if he wasn’t the one blubbering like a baby.
The girls chose that moment to dance all over his bladder, giving him the urgency to pee that would have him wetting himself if he didn’t use a restroom—like, now.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “Do you have a restroom I could use?”
“Yes. It’s this way.” If there was a hesitation before the reply, Ledger didn’t notice as he was guided around the counter, to the back of the shop. His gaze caught on the sewing machine and the swathes of pretty fabrics sat on a long table off to the left. “Just in there.”
Ledger continued to sob when he noticed his puffy eyes and red nose in the mirror before he struggled in the small, pretty restroom to turn and relieve himself.
“Stop this nonsense! You hear me?” he whispered to himself as he struggled to get his belt back in place. “You’re better than this.”
Was he really? He didn’t know anymore. The outburst wasn’t the first and Ledger feared it wouldn’t be the last with how big he was getting.
When he washed his hands, he took the time to splash some cold water on his face, hoping against hope that when Thorn returned to pick him up, he wouldn’t notice he’d been crying.
Exiting the bathroom minutes later, the woman hovered in the doorway, so he launched into an apology. “I’m sorry, Ms… I’m not usually like this.”
“It’s Connie, and I was the same with my first pregnancy. My husband couldn’t look at me sideways,” she said sympathetically, easing some of the tension in Ledger.
He cupped his belly, soothing the girls who were still doing cartwheels. “I’m Ledger. And I’m not sure I’ll ever want to do this again. I’m expecting twins, and I’m convinced I’m getting a double dose of pregnancy hormones.”
When Connie giggled, it took years off her and softened the hardness of her expression. “You will be. Don’t let the obstetrician tell you differently.”
He didn’t say he didn’t have one. It seemed vampire pregnancies didn’t require that kind of help and guidance.
Like most of the information he had, it was all very vague.
And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to know all the details when it came with a reality of what went in had to come out.
He nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry for being rude about the tent-top.”
When she giggled again, Ledger felt relieved she saw the funny side of his utterly serious comment. “It does look like that, I suppose. But I wasn’t lying. They’re very popular. In fact, it’s one of my best sellers.”
He was back to shuddering at the very idea of purchasing one and wearing it in public. His gaze returned to the sewing machine and the pile of fabric. “Do you make clothes?”
“I do.” She scratched at her neck in what appeared to be a nervous gesture. “It’s more a hobby, really. Folks around here aren’t looking for fancy.”
“Have you got something you’ve made that I could look at?”
An idea started to form before Connie walked to a door, one he’d not paid any attention to in his distressed state, and opened it.
His mouth fell open at the brightly colored display of luxurious clothes hanging in the enormous closet.
“Take your pick,” she murmured, back to blushing a pretty pink.
Ledger fell over his feet in his haste to look at what hung inside. He groaned in delight at the feel of the silky fabrics in bold colors that appealed to him. “Are these for sale?”
“Erm, yes I suppose so.”
He grinned at her, doing an internal happy dance along with the girls. “Do you think you have anything in here that would fit me?” he asked excitedly, going from one garment to the next, his pulse skipping at the gorgeous selection of shirts he was pawing at.
“Let me go lock the door to the shop,” she announced eagerly, “and we can see what you like.”
“Everything,” he replied to the empty room, tugging out several shirts that looked as if they’d float right over his protruding tummy.
The shittiness of the day was forgotten when Connie returned and said with confidence, “If you find something you want, I can alter it to fit, if you like.”
“Like… hell yeah.” What he held, he pushed into Connie’s hands. “Let’s start with these.” His credit card was already burning in his wallet in anticipation.