How to Flirt With a Naked Werewolf - Molly Harper [113]
Cooper groaned at the sight of the dress. “You’re killing me, woman. I just got a last-minute call from one of my regulars,” he said.
“Which makes you sound like a hooker.”
Cooper rolled his eyes. “This guy wants to take some clients fishing down at the Snake River. It’s some stupid spontaneous bonding thing he thinks can prevent economic disaster. He’s one of my steady clients, and he’s a grudge holder. If I turn him down once, he’ll blab to all his buddies that I’m an asshole and they should take their business elsewhere. With the season coming up . . .”
“Cooper, it’s just a one-day trip. No big deal. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll be back in the morning, to take you and that blue dress out on the town, I swear.”
“Actually, maybe we should put it off until another night,” I told him. “I’m not really feeling all that great, hence the tea. Your child seems intent on making me throw up until I turn inside out.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Ugh. Now I really don’t want to leave you. And we are going out tomorrow night. There’s some stuff we need to talk about.”
“OK.” I poked him in the chest. “But if you take me camping again, I’m going to kick your ass.”
He smiled, nuzzled my neck, and kissed me long and hard before slipping his cap onto his head. “I believe it.”
I sat on the porch, drinking my tea and waving as he pulled the truck out of the driveway. Would this be what our future would be like? Me waving as my big, strong man went a-hunting, leaving me behind to tend the home fires? How positively medieval.
“I’ve got to go to work,” I told myself, shuddering, setting the cup aside and pushing to my feet. “Bring home some bacon, fry it up in a pan, something, before they take my feminist membership card away.”
WORK WAS QUIET that day. I managed to get through a breakfast shift with minimal nausea and was grateful for it. People ordered their usuals and appreciated the little touches I remembered, such as the fact that Walt didn’t like his toast to touch his eggs or that Gertie was allergic to garlic. I’d almost gotten through the workday unscathed when Maggie appeared at the lunch counter. My grip on the butcher knife I was holding got a little bit tighter.
“Maggie,” Evie warned. “Your mom and the rest of the family may put up with your bullshit, but if you start a fight in here, you will pay for every single thing you break.”
“I’m not here to start a fight,” Maggie snapped back. She looked up at me, her expression unreadable. “I need to talk to you. Can we take a walk?”
“I am not dumb enough to walk to a secluded area with you alone,” I told her. “That’s how women end up on CNN specials.”
“I’m not going to hurt you.” She sighed. “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me the other day at my mom’s. And there are some things I need to say to you. Outside.”
“Don’t go any farther than that bench across the street,” Evie told me. “I’ll be watching.”
“Jesus, Evie,” Maggie exclaimed. “I said I wasn’t going to hurt her!”
“See that you don’t,” Evie retorted. “She’s carrying your little niece or nephew.”
Maggie’s jaw dropped, and so did mine. “How did you know?” I asked.
Evie patted my head. “Oh, honey, we’ve all known for weeks. You’ve been throwing up every time you look cross-eyed at food. Didn’t you think we’d notice?”
Everybody at the lunch counter nodded.
“We’re having a shower for you next month,” Gertie said, grinning at me. “There will be a theme, a cake, and embarrassing games. And you will love it.”
“Well, shit.” I sighed. “I wore all those baggy shirts for nothing.”
We walked across the street, with Maggie eyeing me carefully. “Is this going to be OK for you?” she asked gruffly as we sat on the rough plank bench.
“I’ve been feeling fine,” I told her. “But thanks for asking.”
“Mom should have told