King Maker (King Maker 3)

She cracked up when I saw nothing funny. Women. Nothing I said or did up to this point changed her mind about letting me back in to see my wee bairn born.

“She’s been hanging out with Griff far too much,” she offered.

Finally, I glanced at her. “And I’m going to kick his arse for teaching my wife to curse in Gaelic.”

While Lizzy let out another round of snickers, Bailey yelled out, “Is that you, Lizzy? Is that fannie jobbie dobber out there with you?”

“Jobbie, that’s a new one,” Lizzy said to me before yelling back, “He’s out here.” Then she focused on me. “What’s a jobbie?”

“It’s like shite. Something wee bairns might say if they could get away with it.”

“Tell him to get his arse back in here,” Bailey said like she was possessed.

Lizzy’s eyes twinkled. Holding her hand out toward the door, she said, “Get in there, Dad.”

I frowned at her before pushing through the door. My wife, beautiful even with sweat plastering her beautiful red hair to her head, turned her furious eyes on me.

“Lass,” I said, taking her hand just as the doctor said. “Just one more push.”

“You said that the last time,” she yelled at the doc as she bore down just like the nurse told her to. She crushed my hand in a bone-jarring grip. It wasn’t my first time experiencing her adrenaline-induced superhuman strength.

“You have no right to look grumpy,” she spat. “Damn grumpy but gorgeous man,” she muttered more to herself. Then her eyes met mine as pain lanced through her. “We are never doing this again.”

I nodded. The urge to protect her was strong even when there was absolutely nothing I could do to save her from this. I fisted my free hand, hoping the doc was right and this would be the final push.

“I need the name of a good lawyer,” she cried out. “This is cruel and unusual punishment, grounds for divorce, right?” She aimed that last comment at Lizzy.

The nurses and doctor might have had a good laugh, but they had no idea that was never going to happen despite the determination in her eyes.

Once the bairn was born and she healed, we’d revisit her words. An idea of spanking her ass would have gotten me hard if she didn’t call out like the devil had taken over her body.

When a wail let out, Bailey let my hand go. I watched in wonder as the lungs on that wee babe defied its size.

“Looks like you have a son.”

We’d chosen to wait to find out what we were having, or rather Bailey had. I just went along for the ride. A son. I bent over and kissed the lass before my wee laddie was placed in her arms.

“Aw, look at little Kalen Jeremy.” We decided, at her urging, to name him after me. I agreed, but switched the order of our names. “And we’ll call him Jeremy.”

Only people who didn’t know me well called me Jeremy. So in our house, we would be called by different names.

When she held him out for me to hold, I looked into his light blue eyes with a hint of green. I pushed back the tiny blue and pink striped hat to see what I’d noticed before. He had a tiny crop of dark red hair.

“My son,” I said, amazed for the second time. “Your big sister Corrine and big brother Gabe are at home with both your grandmothers and aunts.”

I’d thought of Corrine, our first, and how she and Gabe had stolen my heart. Looking at my newest son, I knew I had room for a third.

Nothing in my life had been the same since Bailey Glicks, now Bailey King. She’d torn my plans to pieces in a hotel bathroom.

There was nothing I would change, even all the bad, because out of that I came to appreciate the good.

When my youngest son let out a tiny yawn, I thought I’d be prepared for the swell in my chest. I wasn’t any more than I’d been the first time, with Corrine since I hadn’t been there for Gabe’s birth.

“And we’re so doing this again, right, honey?”

I stared at my wife before nodding. “Whatever you want, lass.”

She’d given me everything I needed when she became my wife.

Her father had warned me that Bailey, like all his daughters, was his heart. If I hurt hers, I would be hurting his. It had been his way of letting me know he’d hunt me down and take care of things if that happened.

Then a few months later, when I looked into my daughter Corrine’s eyes, I truly understood his meaning.

She was born with a shock of black hair like mine and eyes like her mother’s. And just like that, my daughter had me wrapped around her tiny fingers.

It was a good thing both companies were thriving, because if she asked me to buy her the moon, I’d buy a rocket too in order to plant a flag on the surface, promptly renaming it Corrine’s Moon.