Page 28 of Tied up in Knots (Gummy Bear Orgy #4)

A spam and skittle omelet

When I told Bambi I would be there every day to help her, I don’t think she believed me.

Because everyday I show up in the morning at the shop and don’t leave until after she’s eaten a full dinner of whatever strange craving she’s having, she’s still surprised to see me the next day.

Like she expects me to disappear without a trace… again.

It's been a week since I returned, and every day I wake up, drive over to her shop in my same old truck, park out back and proceed to do whatever she needs for the day. I think she’s testing me and having fun with telling me what to do.

She’s had me clean the shop bathroom, dust every single bookshelf, alphabetize her pantry, and paint her toenails.

Though that last one was enjoyable for me as well.

I like touching Bambi, and I’ll take every opportunity I’m given, even if that’s just rubbing her swollen feet and painting her toes neon purple.

Today she attempted to go on deliveries.

I wasn’t having that. So, after much persuading, here I am with bags of blue wrapped books on my passenger seat, driving around town, and dodging small talk with nosey townsfolk.

I have had to deal with old ladies pinching my cheeks, fisherman ex-coworkers chatting me up about their latest catch and trying to rehire me, and a few gabby gossips trying to pry everything about my time away from me.

Eventually, I make it through all the deliveries, taking twice as long as I had hoped to.

By the time I’ve finished it’s late afternoon and I know Bambi will be getting hungry soon.

Deciding to stop to pick something up to make her dinner, I pull into the parking lot of the local grocery store.

I have no idea what she’ll be craving tonight, but I also want to surprise her.

Perusing the aisles like a lost puppy, I hope something will jump out at me. Spaghetti, mac-n-cheese, fried chicken, smoked salmon. Nothing sounds right. She’s been favoring pickles lately, so I toss a few jars of those into my basket. Minis, spears, bread and butter just to be safe. Now what?

As I’m staring unfocused at the meat section, I sense a body appear at my side but don’t give it much thought until the person speaks.

“Can’t figure out what to make for dinner?” a familiar voice asks, drawing my attention away from the overpriced steaks.

Gigi looks up at me and grins. My frown smoothing out seeing a friendly face that won’t ask me forty-six million questions and expect me to recite my life’s memoire.

“No, I can’t. I wanted to make something for Bambi, but with her pregnancy cravings I’m not sure what to get,” I admit, a sheepish smile on my face.

Gigi is one of the three people in town who knows I’m the father of the baby, and the only person who knows my ultimate goal, marry Bambi and make a family with her.

She’s been watching me leave every morning all week, waving me off with a smile and words of encouragement.

The ring she gave me safely tucked away on my boat waiting for that perfect opportunity, which won’t be any time soon, not until after she trusts me again.

“That is a tough one. Her cravings are rather wild. But you know what she always loved?”

Gigi loops her arm through mine and steers me down the meat section, stopping in front of the bacon and sausage.

“Rae always loved breakfast for dinner. No matter if we had a full breakfast that morning or not.”

That’s at least a place to start. But as I stare at the choices of breakfast meat I am now faced with another dilemma.

Bacon or sausage? Pancakes or waffles? Do I get eggs?

Muffins or biscuits? Hashbrowns or country potatoes?

There are just as many choices as before, the suggestion not making my decision any easier.

Gigi must notice my growing panic and distress because she squeezes my arm in a reassuring gesture that has my brows un-pinching.

“I would suggest getting a little of everything. Just to be safe,” she says.

“Good idea.”

“And don’t forget the chocolate chips for pancakes,” she adds as I pick a pack of bacon and sausage to add to my cart. With the amount of breakfast food I’m going to buy, we’ll be able to eat breakfast every meal for a week.

“Thanks Gigi. What would I do without you?”

“Well for starters you would still be standing there staring at the meat like an owl.”

I laugh and something inside of me settles. With every day that passes after my return, I feel more and more sure of my decision. Being here is the right thing, whether Bambi is pregnant or not, it’s where I’m supposed to be.

“Thanks again Gigi.”

“For what?” she asks, her smile still firmly in place.

“For not hating me for leaving Bambi. For not turning me away when I came back. You had every right to, but you didn’t. Thank you.” She pats me on the cheek and her small warm hand cups my jaw as she turns me to face her straight on.

“You’re family Warren, always have been always will be. You don’t turn away family just because they left for a little while. You did nothing wrong. As I see it, you’re trying to do the right thing and that’s what matters.”

She pats my cheek one more time for good measure before dropping her hand and acting as if we’re just talking about which brand of bacon to buy, and not the mother of my unborn child.

“Now you get going and feed my grandbabies. Go on now. Shoo.”

She waves me away and we part ways, her last words to me spoken with a wicked grin. “I won’t wait up for you.”

I’ve been living on my boat just as I always had, but from her insinuation she seems to think I’ll be staying at Bambi’s.

Not that I would mind. I would love to stay with her.

Be close by in case she needs me in the middle of the night.

To keep her stove lit and burning so she doesn’t get cold.

To wrap my arms around her as we sleep. That last one benefits us both.

The idea takes root, and as I pick out every breakfast food known to man, I plan my speech to convince Bambi I need to stay with her.

For hers and our baby’s protection and benefit.

By the time I slide into the driver’s seat of my truck, multiple bags of groceries secured in the back, I’ve come up with what I feel is a foolproof plan.

When I arrive at Bambi’s the store is already closed for the night, all the lights downstairs turned off, the only light coming from her apartment above.

My arms are filled with the grocery bags as I thumb through the keys on my ring to find the one I had made yesterday.

I used to have a key of my own but returned it to her when I left.

I wasn’t sure she would say yes if I asked for another, so I had my own made.

She’ll probably be angry with me for stealing her keys and making a copy without asking her first, but I’m okay with that.

Because it means I have a way to get to her in case of an emergency.

I may have had nightmares about her going into labor locked in her apartment and me with no way of getting inside. The only way to assuage my growing panic and need to protect her, was to make a copy of her key without her knowledge.

Now is as good a time as any to use it. To surprise her with breakfast for dinner, and every meal for the foreseeable future.

I slip the silver key in the exterior door and turn it till it clicks.

Most of the time she only locks this door and not the one at the top of the stairs to her apartment, so I won’t have to worry about unlocking two doors.

I make sure to lock the exterior door behind me before climbing quietly up the stairs.

At the top I wipe my feet on her door mat that has a picture of a stack of books and reads “Yes I really do read all these books.” Without knocking I step through the door and decide to announce myself in a way she should get used to.

“Honey, I’m home.”

Bambi is standing in the kitchen, the fridge door open in front of her when she turns to stare at me, completely taken off guard by my surprise appearance. I can see the sparkle of delight in her eyes before they shift to curious confusion.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, still standing in front of the open fridge, one hand on the door handle. Even her fridge is second hand. One of those retro fifties style ones with only one door and colored mint green.

“I thought I would make you dinner.” I hold up the bags showing her my offerings.

Her eyes brighten even more as her tongue swipes across her lips hungrily.

She looks so freaking cute in her overall sweatpants.

They look soft and comfortable, draped loosely over her rounded stomach, fuzzy pink slippers covering her purple toenails.

Seeing her like this solidifies my resolve to move in with her. Now just to persuade her.

“What did you bring?” She shuts the fridge absentmindedly, not even bothering to remove her eyes from the bags in my hands.

“Breakfast.”

“What kind?”

“All of them.”

Bright hazel eyes flick up to mine as I set the bags on the kitchen counter. Pulling out my haul, I set each item down in a row for her inspection and choosing.

“Are you going to make all of this?” she asks.

“Not right now but eventually, yes. I’ll make whatever you want.”

Bambi holds a package of chocolate chips to her chest like a treasure, gasping with delight.

I wasn’t sure how I would sexually respond to her being pregnant.

I thought maybe her stomach would kill my libido or something, but I can tell you right now that is so not the case.

My cock twitches with interest watching her pouty little lips part making an O shape, remembering they looked similar when wrapped around my cock.