“Not even a little bit,” I whisper his words back, and he drops his lips to the crown of my head before pressing my cheek back to his sternum. Right where I can feel the steady, strong thumping of his heart.

“My dad knows you’re pregnant.”

“Okay.”

“He asked me if I have a breeding kink.”

My hands come up to cover my face and laughter shakes my body. “No, he didn’t.”

“He did.”

“Jesus.” I murmur, but it’s still a little thin. A little watery.

“Forget Jesus. Tell me about the carrot. I’ve been thinking about it for days.”

“The woman you’ve known for all of two months tells you she accidentally got pregnant and what keeps you up is wondering about the carrot in her purse?”

He chuckles and gives my hair a little tug, tipping my face up to his. “Yeah.” He shrugs. “You feel right in my life. In Luke’s life. We just . . . make sense to me somehow. And another little person will too. Nothing about that feels wrong to me. The only thing that doesn’t make sense is that fucking carrot.”

I laugh again, because everything he just said is so quintessentially him. He’s not flowery or showy. He’s matter-of-fact, and he just laid his heart on the line for me. It seems like the least I can do is explain the carrot. “It’s just from feeding the horses with Luke . . . I think.”

“You think?”

Busted. “Yeah, I don’t totally recall putting it in there if I’m being honest. It could be from when I still lived in the city.”

“But that’s months ago.” He sounds suitably horrified. I wonder if he’s having second thoughts about being with a girl who keeps old carrots in her purse.

“Yeah,” I reply lamely, nibbling at my lip.

“Panties and carrots.” He shakes his head and lets his hands roam my back as my breathing continues to even out. “I can’t wait to see what falls out of there next.”

We stand in silence for several minutes, just holding each other in the middle of the front yard, beside the heart he made for me, with my future initials written into the center. Like he’s just that sure of me—of us.

Like we’re better together and he knows it.

“I love you, Cade,” I murmur against his chest.

“I love you too, Red.”

Then he just holds me tighter, and I hope he never lets go.

36

Cade

Cade: What are you doing? Braiding your hair?

Rhett: No, polishing my nails.

Cade: We’re going to be late.

Rhett: Dude. Your event isn’t even until tomorrow. Take a breath.

Rhett: Are you seriously outside my house honking right now?

Cade: Yes. Making people wait is rude.

Rhett: You can’t rush perfection.

Cade: Nothing about you is perfect.

Rhett: No. But this sign I made you is.

* * *