Page 98 of Rough

“See? I can be reasonable.”

Jogging past me, Wilder smacks me on the ass and we follow him to pile in our truck, then bump our way out to the pond while I happily sip at my now lukewarm coffee.

With a blanket laid out, we relax under the sun after dipping our toes in the cool water and I sigh with closed eyes and heat on my cheeks. After a bit of silence, I hum in contentment, letting my fingers trail over another round of bubbles that moves inside of me.

“Say somethin’ pretty, like you always do,” I beg Clyde, stretching my legs over both Remy and Wilder’s legs. They grip my thighs and start working my muscles until I’m a puddle of mud underneath them.

My arm strays up to stroke lazy fingers over Clyde’s week-old scruff while the other one cradles my swollen stomach, wishing I could feel our little cowboy or cowgirl actually move. It’s too early, but there’s comfort knowing that he or she is protected by me and their daddies.

Clyde hums as he runs his fingers through my hair, leaning into my touch. Then, tipping his head back to stare at the sky, he takes a deep breath, thinking. Finally, he drops forward and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“Some think the country is nothing. Just out in the middle of nowhere and boring... bland… but not me. I think the countryis the center of everything. And you’re our everythin’, Country. Fuckin’everythin’.”