Making the Cut (Sons of Templar MC 1)

Cade chuckled, joining me and gathered me in his arms. “Considering you slept the entire plane ride, I find that surprising.”

I raised my head from where it had been resting comfortably on his beautiful sculpted chest. “Hey, pregnant women need their sleep!” My gaze wavered back down to his torso, encased in his standard black tee, muscles bursting out.

“But maybe not right now, I’m feeling a burst of energy,” I said, pushing up his tee.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Five Months Later

“Fuck, cocksucker, asshole!” I yelled, glaring down at the fork I had just dropped. Stupid chubby pregnancy fingers.

“Now that’s the kind of language I like to hear from a pregnant woman.”

I directed my glare at the owner of the voice. Brock stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the door of the kitchen.

“Trust me, your vocabulary would be a hell of a lot more colorful if you were one week overdue, fat, frustrated and couldn’t even see your toes let alone touch them,” I hissed. “Stop staring at me with that stupid grin and pick up my fork for me.” I pointed to the floor while continuing to glare.

Brock raised his eyebrows but didn’t move, grinning like the cocky bastard he was.

I suppressed a growl. “I may have lost my fork, but I still have a knife,” I threatened, waving it around with my free hand, the other was balancing my food.

Brock slowly pushed off his perch, sauntered over to me and handed me the fork. I snatched it off him, my manners gone along with my due date. I whirled around, chucking the fork in the sink, after being on the floor of the club’s kitchen no way was I putting that in my mouth, I’d probably catch herpes. I got a clean one, leaned against the counter and attacked my meal with gusto.

“Nice bite, what are you? A wolf?” Lucky joked, pushing past Brock to lean beside me on the counter.

“Fuck you both,” I snapped.

“I thought pregnant women were meant to be all lollipops and rainbows, full of joy,” Lucky exclaimed sarcastically.

I stopped eating and stared at him, seriously considering murdering the perpetually happy little fucker. “Well, my pregnant joy is taking a break at the moment, Buddy. Might be because everyone automatically treats me like I’m handicapped once they see my stomach. Giving up their seats, letting me go in front of them in line, some people even talk slower to me. Like having a baby growing inside of me automatically makes me temporarily brain damaged.” I took a bite of my food and chewed furiously. “Don’t even get me started on the people that think its okay to just walk up and touch my stomach. Strangers, fondling my stomach. Bet they wouldn’t like it if I rubbed their non pregnant bellies back. Actually I know they wouldn’t like it considering I did it today and trust me she did not like the taste of her own medicine,” I ranted.

Both men looked at me a beat then roared with laughter. I watched them with a death glare until they finally stopped. Lucky brushed a pretend tear from his eye.

“I like the pregnant, Gwen. She’s feisty, we could patch you in at Sgt in Arms.”

“Yeah well it’s going to be the homicidal Gwen if these chilies don’t work,” I told him, forking another load in my mouth.

“What are chilies going to do, make you sweat out all your mean?” Brock teased.

I smiled fakely at him. “No genius, they’ll induce my labor,” I declared, watching in satisfaction as both grins were wiped from their attractive faces and they took a synchronized step back. They both stared at my stomach like I’d informed them it was full of explosives about to go off.

My smile got wider. “If I didn’t know any better, you two bad ass bikers look scared at the prospect of imminent labor,” I teased, my mood heightening significantly.

“You mean you could do that, right now?” Lucky asked, edging away from me, his face a mask of terror.

“If the universe had any compassion for me, these will make my water break right here on the kitchen floor,” I told them with mock seriousness, enjoying the looks of horror on their faces.

“Fuck, shouldn’t you be in, like, a hospital or something?” Brock asked, looking like he would piggyback me to one if it meant he didn’t have to face the reality of childbirth.

“What the fuck, why does Gwen need to be in hospital?” a worried voice barked.

Cade pushed past the two idiots to put both hands on my belly. “Is it happening baby?” His concerned eyes searched my face.

I laughed bitterly and put my plate of chilies down. “No the universe hates me, this little girl is supremely comfortable curled up in my stomach, playing soccer with my bladder. Just teasing these two wusses,” I sneered over my shoulder at the men.

“We are not wusses. We just don’t like the prospect of you leaking all over the club floor,” Lucky shot at me.

I attempted to step around Cade to get to Lucky, to do what I’m not sure, sit on him maybe, but Cade’s arms stopped me.

“I can’t wait until you knock someone up asshole, to see how she responds to comments about leaking women.”

Lucky’s face blanched and Brock whacked his shoulder.

“Let’s get some beers brother, leave Cade to deal with his little wildcat,” he chuckled and then turned to Cade, face serious. “Good luck, man. Can I get your bike if she murders you with that fork?”

I growled throwing my fork at them, too late unfortunately because it just bounced off the closing door. I almost stomped my foot in frustration. I directed my anger at someone else, the someone else standing right in front of me.

“This is all your fault. You’re the one that put this baby inside me, you and your stupid super sperm. Now I’m fat and cranky and hormonal. You put her in, now you get her out!” I demanded, actually stamping my foot this time, glaring into my fiancé’s grey eyes, which were dancing with amusement.