Page 135 of Rockstar Baby

I shook my head. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Tomorrow all right? I actually have a day off.”

“And you’d spend it with me?”

“It looks like it.”

His smile widened. “It’s a date.”

“I guess it is.”

I hoped like hell I wasn’t making a huge mistake.

Twenty-Four

“I’m insane.”

“No, you love him. Now stop moving.”

I twisted my head around. “I never said that.”

Kinleigh grabbed my hips and twisted me straight. “If you don’t stop squirming, I’m going to stick you,” she mumbled around a pin in her mouth.

I blew out a breath and straightened up. When I’d come to her crying about my clothing predicament—again—she’d set me in front of the mirror with a dress she’d obviously been working on.

A dress made for my additional curves.

I fluffed the fluid middle of the pastel blue dress. It had tiny violets on it and fit like a dream.

“You know you could make bank in this town making cute pregnancy outfits. We all seem to be knocked up.”

Kinleigh laughed and tucked her chin on my shoulder. “I was thinking precisely the same thing. I stole some of the material from the hem on this dress. Shortened it a few inches.” She slid a pin along the seam at my hip. “Luckily, you have nice legs, so it worked out.” She unzipped the dress. “Step out and I’ll do some of my magic sewing.”

I let it shimmy to my ankles, then I wandered over to the rolling rack and flipped through the hangers of clothing as the soothing sound of Kinleigh’s sewing machine played accompaniment to the chamber music she had playing today. You never knew what kind of music would be playing. It usually matched her outfit.

Steam punk meets corset was on the menu today—with a side of dramatic flair because of her newly pink hair. Had to love my bestie. Life was never boring with her in my life for sure.

Thank God for her and my brother, especially with the little one I was carrying around. My hand slid to my belly absently. Nothing was kicking around in there yet. According to my baby books, it would start in a few weeks—if I was lucky. Sometimes not until past the halfway mark.

Halfway. It didn’t even compute. The weeks were bleeding away so fast, then other days it felt like no time had passed at all.

The bell for Kinleigh’s front door jangled and I zipped behind the trifold screen in the dressing area. Hanging out in my bra and granny panties was all right with Kinleigh, not so much for anyone else.

“You’re early.” Kinleigh’s voice was flat with displeasure.

“I know it. I was worried I’d be late and well, I’m very early.”

“She’s not ready.”

“It’s all right. I’ll wait.” His voice was a little nervy, the Irish a bit thicker than it usually was. I remembered the way his voice changed when he was with me. While he was inside me. The way his Irish flowed as well as his hips.

Cripes.

Halt. Reverse. Put away that line of thinking, young lady.

Oh, who was I kidding? I peered around the screen.