The Virgin and the Beast (Stud Ranch 1)

And I don’t know if the kid got woken up by all the activity of moments before or if it was the salsa I had with my eggs this morning, but he or she is doing friggin’ somersaults in there.

Xavier keeps his hands on my stomach for a good ten minutes, his face a picture of devoted concentration and awe.

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” I say when Jr. finally settles back down and stops moving.

Xavier looks at me. For a second I can’t make out the expression on his face. His eyebrows are drawn together, his mouth open like he’s at a loss. Finally, he whispers, “I don’t know how to be this happy.” He shakes his head. “A man like me doesn’t deserve it.”

I scrunch my face. “What are you talking about? Of course you deserve—”

But Xavier’s suddenly in motion. He’s up, grabbing my underwear and jeans. Naturally he doesn’t hand them to me like a normal person would. He starts to dress me.

I throw a hand over my face. “I don’t want to move.”

He chuckles. “Somehow I bet you’ll think different when the mosquitos start coming out. It’s almost sundown and you know they’ll be out in droves.”

I groan but when he holds down a hand to help me up, I grudgingly let him pull me to my feet. I step back into my boots even though my legs feel like total jelly. I stumble a little while pulling my shirt back on over my head. He holds me steady at the last second.

“Whoa there.” He can’t keep the smirk off his face. “Have a bit of a rough ride, did ya?”

My eyes are at half-mast. I know it’s the guys who are supposed to get sleepy after sex, but I’m always taking naps these days. According to the websites, I’m supposed to get a second wind of energy somewhere here in the second trimester but that has yet to hit. I’m still Ms. Nappy McNappy Pants.

His eyes soften and he reaches forward to push a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Let’s get you to the house for a before-dinner nap, how about that?”

I use my last ounces of strength to lift up on tiptoe and kiss his lips. “You really can be a sweetheart.” Then I pull back. “When you’re not being a pain in my ass.”

I get a swat on my backside for that one.

I laugh and jump ahead a few steps. He naturally chases me. I’m still giggling when I get out of the stables and freeze at seeing a serious-looking man in a business suit frowning at us.

I back up a few steps and run into Xavier, who’s arm immediately snakes around my stomach protectively.

Standing as close as we are, I feel the sudden tension that makes Xavier’s muscles go rigid. I look up and his face is hard, his jaw stiff.

“Father,” he bites out. “What are you doing here?

Chapter 19

“There’s not much time left to live up to your end of the bargain. I’ve come to check on your progress.”

Xavier’s silent while the man—Xavier’s father—looks me up and down.

Out of old habit, I can’t help looking at his suit. The cut is excellent. And the fabric. Top of the line tailoring. Tortoise shell buttons. Hand stitching.

And his shoes. He’s standing out here in a horse paddock full of cow pies in a pair of goddamned Stefano Bemer’s, if I haven’t lost my old touch. Not a household name, but those shoes can retail at three to four thousand dollars a pair. We’re talking stupid money.

“But I see you’ve made a start of it.” The corners of Xavier’s father’s mouth turn down. “I can’t imagine where you found her. Farmer’s Monthly?”

Xavier steps in front of me, blocking me from his dad’s sight.

“Get the hell off my property.”

His father sighs even as I strain to look over Xavier’s shoulder. I can’t help but want to get a peek at the man who sired my surly, mountainous lover. He looks a little familiar. Maybe I’m just seeing Xavier’s features in him?

“Look, I’m sorry,” his dad says, holding out a hand. He’s a tall man but not nearly as broad-shouldered as his son.

Maybe his mom was a female heavyweight champ or did Olympic shot put?

“We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot again,” his dad continues, sighing heavily. “I just want to talk. Maybe we could go inside and…” He lifts his leg and tries to shake some caked up mud off his fancy shoe—at least hopefully it’s mud.