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Page 20 of Protected By the Bikers Next Door (Never Just One #4)

Harper

I shouldn’t have let Ryan and his girlfriend get to me.

My men love my body, and I’m slowly learning to love it too.

However, although I don’t want or need to lose weight, there’s nothing wrong with me trying to get a bit healthier.

With that in mind, I’ve recently taken up doing yoga at home.

For one thing, it’s a good idea to improve my flexibility, if only for the sexual advantages.

I feel like I’m having a sexual reawakening.

The guys and I have been enjoying experimenting with new positions, and I’ve found myself wishing I were more limber.

The guys also enjoy watching me do downward dog in my tight yoga pants, so much so that I never get much yoga done before we inevitably end up doing a different kind of exercise on the mat.

Jenny’s at school, and the guys are in a Shadow Pack emergency meeting next door, having moved the location from the clubhouse to be closer to me.

I insisted I’d be fine. They reluctantly left half an hour ago, leaving me alone in the house for the first time since I moved in.

Needing a distraction from the inevitable fears that began to creep in, I’ve decided to do some yoga.

As I take a deep breath and dive into a forward fold, a sudden wave of lightheadedness hits me, and I see stars.

I plonk down onto the mat, feeling faint, aware that I’m on the brink of passing out completely.

Taking deep breaths, I wait for my vision to return to normal before taking a swig of water.

That was weird. I suppose I have been feeling off lately. Tired. Emotional. Nauseous.

I haven’t had a near-fainting spell like this since before Jenny was born. As the thought crosses my mind, I balk. When was the last time I had my period?

Mentally counting back, I realize that the last time I felt like this was when I was pregnant with Jenny.

I can’t be, though. Can I?

We’ve been careful. The guys haven’t worn protection; they haven’t needed to.

I take the contraceptive injection. Shit.

When did I last have it? I frantically think back to my last appointment.

It was a long time ago. Too long. Could I have missed taking my shot?

It’s possible. With the stress of moving and the fact that I hadn’t been sexually active in a long time, years, it wasn’t exactly at the top of my priority list. It could have easily slipped my mind.

It’s not like I expected to end up in a relationship with anyone, let alone my three very sexy, very horny neighbors.

Maybe I’m just hungry. I haven’t eaten much today. I try to convince myself.

I head downstairs to fix myself a sandwich, tuna mayo, my favorite, but the smell turns my stomach.

Shit. I hated the smell of fish when I was pregnant with Jenny, too.

I need to take a pregnancy test, but there’s no way I can sneak out to the pharmacy without the guys noticing and worrying. Pulling out my phone, I order the best, earliest-detecting pregnancy test I can find to be delivered as soon as possible and try and focus on my yoga.

***

An hour later, I get the delivery and rush to the upstairs bathroom to take it. With bad timing, the guys arrive just as I’m opening the box. “Harper,” Wolf calls out. “Where are you?”

I call down the stairs, “Up here.”

“Turns out we need to go to the clubhouse after all.”

“Oh, okay, well, I’ll see you when you get back,” I reply, eager for once to get rid of them so I can take the test.

“No way, we’re not leaving you alone, and there’s no one nearby to come watch you. You’re coming with us,” Wolf replies.

I try to think of an excuse not to join, but come up blank. I’ve been asking to see the club for a while now. Something that Bear reminds me of.

“Okay, give me five to change and I’ll come down,” I reply. I head to my room, throwing on some jeans and a t-shirt and stuffing the pregnancy test into my purse. The moment I get a chance, I want to take it. I don’t think I can wait long to find out.

I’m so consumed with the fact that I might be pregnant that I don’t ask the guys about their clubhouse emergency.

Thankfully, they’re also preoccupied by it, so they don’t notice my unusual silence.

I’m also saved from any scrutiny by the fact that the guys decide to ride their bikes, with me following behind in their truck.

Wolf suggested I ride on the back of his bike, but I shut that suggestion down by pointing out that we don’t know how long we’ll be at the clubhouse, and we need the truck to collect Jenny from school.

The Shadow Pack clubhouse is less intimidating than I had imagined.

The large, one-story building has a sizable parking area filled with gleaming bikes.

Smoking by the entrance is a tough-looking woman, and a few men with tattoos wearing leather vests with the club’s insignia.

These are the only signs that the place is anything other than a regular bar.

They greet us with deferential nods to the guys and curious glances at me.

The sign above the door says ‘Dingo’s’, the nickname of the president who founded the club.

Inside, it’s busy for a Wednesday afternoon. There are several Shadow Pack members shooting pool or drinking at the bar. The décor is typical of any other bar, featuring red leather booths and wooden accents. The lingering smell of liquor and spilled beer, mixed with grease, hangs in the air.

As we enter, it feels as though everyone turns to look at us.

As with the people outside, the naked curiosity on people’s faces is clear.

They’re all wondering who the woman is who has managed to attract three of their highest-ranking members.

I feel hot under their stares, proud and embarrassed at the same time, wondering if I come up short in their minds.

Thankfully, I recognize some familiar, friendly faces from the cookout, including Pam, who smiles warmly at me.

Wolf takes my hand and pulls me over to them.

“Everyone, you remember Harper, our old lady.”

Overlapping greetings, all friendly and welcoming, are said. “Good to see you again,” Pam says.

“You too,” I reply, feeling somewhat overwhelmed.

“You alright to keep an eye on her while we head to the back for a meeting?” Wolf asks Pam.

“Sure thing,” she says.

Wolf kisses me. “We’ll be just out back. Order anything you like. There won’t be any trouble, but if you need anything, just holler.”

I nod, forcing a smile. “Sure.”

Bear kisses me next. “Order the ribs, they’re the best in town.”

Hawk doesn’t kiss me or say anything; it’s not his style. I can’t imagine him being one for public displays of affection, but he looks into my eyes and nods, silently reassuring me that everything is fine. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight otherwise.

The moment the guys are out of sight, I turn to Pam and ask, “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Just past the pool table.”

“Thanks,” I say, rushing off before she can say anything else.

I head into the nearest cubicle, locking the door behind me and rummaging in my bag for the pregnancy test, which I quickly take before I can talk myself out of it.

The next three minutes are agonizingly slow as I debate what the hell I’m going to do if it’s positive.

I don’t even know which one of them is the father.

Do they even want kids? They’re great with Jenny, but a baby is a different matter. It’s too soon, isn’t it?

That’s not to mention what people will think, what they’ll say.

People are already judging our relationship, but if I’m pregnant and there are three possible fathers, I can only imagine the nasty things people will say.

How can I possibly have a baby when there’s some psychopath out there tormenting us? It couldn’t be worse timing.

Will it change how the guys feel about me?

Our relationship is so new. A baby will change everything.

What if they don’t want it, want me? I know I want them.

If I am pregnant, I want to have this child, even if I never know who the biological father is.

Because the truth is, I’m falling for them, all of them.

Could we have a happy ending? Could a baby be a happy addition to our unconventional family?

As these thoughts rattle through my mind, I try to stay calm. I don’t even know if I am pregnant yet.

It’s time to find out.

With a deep breath, I turn the test over to see the results. A strong, clear, undeniable result stares back at me: a plus sign.

I’m pregnant.

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