The Keeper (Playing To Win Book 1)

I walk in the door of the condo, so goddamn proud of myself.

It’s not like it’s easy finding a gift for the woman who could buy a small island if she really wanted to. Not to mention, my wife doesn’t like presents, and she’s not the biggest fan of candy. But she does love cupcakes. Thank you, Amelia. I stopped by Sweet Temptations and picked up a dozen Valentine’s day cupcakes, in pinks and reds with sprinkles and hearts, then grabbed a nice bottle of her favorite champagne and ordered her a few pairs of her favorite soft fuzzy socks.

Pace told me it was the shittiest Valentine’s present he’d ever heard of, after he asked me if I was in high school again and then informed me jewelry or lingerie was the only way to go.

I pointed out just how single he actually is and asked him how long it’s been since he had a girlfriend for Valentine’s day. When he couldn’t remember, I decided I won the argument and went with my plan.

My plan did not, however, include my wife crying hysterically on the couch.

“Princess . . .” I kick the door shut, cross the room, and squat down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

“You. It’s all your fault.” She throws her tissue on the table, where a pile of other crumpled tissues lay. “You’ve always got to be the best at everything. Everything,” she sobs. “Just once, couldn’t you be mediocre?”

“Baby, I’m gonna need you to help me out here and tell me what you’re trying to say because I’m not following.” I put her presents down on the table next to the gross tissues. “Want a cupcake?”

She eyes the pink Sweet Temptations box and nods.

Then she looks at the chocolate cake with pink buttercream icing, like it’s betrayed her, and wails, “My ass is going to get so fat.”

“It’s one cupcake, baby. It’s not going to make your ass fat.” Holy shit. What the hell happened to my normal, sane wife, and when can I please get her back?

She rips the top off the cupcake, flips it upside down and smooshes it on the bottom half. Then I watch as she eats the entire thing in two bites. Damn.

“My boobs are going to get big too. I guess that’s a positive. But I swear to God, Easton . . .” She gives up halfway through her rant and grabs another cupcake.

“Madeline, I’m not sure if I should be scared or if I should just take away the sugar. Want to help me out here?”

Lindy’s stormy-blue eyes lock with mine.

“You knocked me up.”

I tilt my head and stare at her as the words sink in. “What?”

“I’m pregnant. We’re due in September. I saw my brother’s wife, Wren, today. You know, the ob-gyn. Do you know what it’s like to have your sister-in-law look in your hoo-hah and tell you there’s a human up there?”

“You’re pregnant?” I ask in absolute shock.

“Yup. We’re due September twenty-second, to be exact.”

“Holy shit,” I laugh and drop to my knees, then pull her to the edge of the couch. “You’re pregnant? We’re gonna have a baby?”

“Yeah,” she nods her head and finally smiles. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

“Baby . . . you’re gonna have my baby.” I drag her into my lap and kiss her with every unbelievable emotion flowing through me.

“If the baby’s head is as big as yours, I want a divorce,” she laughs through her tears. “Not really. But if their head is huge, you owe me big-time. Cupcakes for the next nine months.”

“Anything you want, princess. I’ll give you anything you want.”

She runs her hands along my face and through my hair as her eyes dart between mine. “You’ve already given me everything, Easton. Everything I could ever dream of. You’re really not upset?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.” I run my hand under her shirt and over her stomach, in complete awe of her.

Lindy wiggles in my lap and tears her shirt over her head. “Oh, fuck it. It’s not like you can get me more pregnant.”

I stand up with her in my arms, liking the sound of that. “No, I can’t.”

“Promise you’ll love me, no matter how big my ass gets?”

“Your ass will always be perfect, baby.” I squeeze it for good measure and drop her onto the bed.

“Ohh. You’re good.”

“Just wait and see how good I can be, princess.”

I was good four times that afternoon and three more that night.

And I did not get her more pregnant.

The End