Authors: Melanie Moreland

Over the Fence (46 page)

Thank you again, my wonderful husband—yesterday was so . . . beyond anything I could have ever dreamed of. It was perfect.

You’re the perfect one, Kourtney. I’m glad your birthday was a good day for a change.

GOOD day? Nat—it was amazing. I still can’t get over the presents and the dinner . . . and everything else you did. You spoiled me.

Your birthday will be a day I want to celebrate every year. I missed too many of them already. I had to catch up. One gift for each birthday I missed, and a few for this one. And the dinner? Our friends were thrilled to celebrate with us. They love you too, you know.

I loved every one of them. Thank you for bringing Claire and Grant down.

Anytime. I’m glad they’re staying for a few days . . . and I’m equally glad they’re staying at a hotel. You were very enthusiastic with your thanks last night, Chefgirl.

Complaining? Did I tire you out?

Nope. I’ll show you tonight how un-tired I am. Especially if you wear that pretty pink thing I saw Annie gave you.

You peeked in the bag!

Hey—I saw something lacy. It screamed at me. You can model it for me when you show your thanks again.

I’ll do that.

Good—when you get home take them for a nice long walk . . . tire them out so they leave early. I myself might have a huge headache and have to retire early.

One-track mind.

For you—Yep. Love you, Chefgirl.

Love you, Nat
.

Nat—The realtor’s office called. They found us a house you might like.

Big kitchen for you?

Yes.

Big basement for me?

Yes.

Bedrooms?

Yes.

Smartass. How many?

4. 5
th
could be downstairs.

Okay. That works. Fence?

LOL. Yes. There’s even a den on the main floor.

Make an appointment.

You sure you want to move?

We’re going to have babies someday—lots of them—Chefgirl. Need the room.

Someday, Nat. Not today. I just came off birth control.

Better be prepared. And you never know. I bet my boys are strong. Ninja-like sperm.

OMG—I give up—I’ll make the appointment.

Chefgirl?

I love you.

Nat—I need you.

What’s wrong, Kourtney?

I got a call—my father died. I know I shouldn’t care . . . but please, I need you.

Of course you care. I’m on my way. Don’t drive.

I love you, Nat.

So much, my girl. I’ll be right there—I’ve got you, Kourtney.

How are you feeling, Chefgirl?

I still can’t believe it.

Told you my swimmers were strong.

Yes, you did.

I’m going to be a daddy.

Yes, you are.

You are my life. I love you.

I love you, Nat. You’re going to be the best daddy.

I need to kiss you right now.

NO. Not good enough. I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Be out front.

Nuts. You are nuts, Nat.

Just about you, Chefgirl. And our baby.

Okay, now I need to kiss YOU.

Pucker up, Mommy. On my way.

Showing off my ultrasound picture.

Again?

Hey . . . I want people to see how good-looking my son is.

Yes, Nat, our son looks JUST like you.

I am sensing sarcasm.

Never. The shadowy image is your spitting image.

Shadowy but detailed. MY BOY.

I love you.

Chefgirl?

Do you need anything? Can I go buy ice cream or something?

No, I’m good. I only need you.

You have me. I love you.

Did I mention how much I love the nursery?

You did, Chefgirl, but quite happy if you want to show me . . . again. Especially if you’re on top . . . again. That drives me wild. And I bet you’re blushing now. I like that, too!

I will not answer you since that only encourages your cheek.

You already did, Chefgirl. LOL.

You never told me last night. How on earth did you get one of our fence boards from the old house?

I used my appealing charm.

Okay. Right. No, really, how did you do it?

I’m insulted my wife doesn’t find me charming. I, ah . . . okay fine . . . check the freezer. There may be a cake missing. I knew Deb had a sweet tooth and if I told her the fence story, while she was all sugar shocked, and how I wanted a board to go in the nursery so we could use it to track the baby’s height as he grew, she would let me have it. I replaced it for them. And it looks great in the nursery with the farm thing you picked out. I have even impressed myself with my handyman skills.

Motif, Nat. Farm motif. And you did an amazing job. Your son will love it.

My son. Our son. I love you. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Oh my—such excess.

Never enough xx’s for you, Chefgirl. To infinity.

And beyond. Love you back, Nat. Um, you didn’t take the caramel cake did you? I was craving that.

Ah . . . gotta go, Chefgirl. Someone is calling. I’m sure that was my name.

You are in such trouble, Nat! You know I’ll get you at home. You can run but you can’t hide.

I’ll distract you at home.

Really.

Yep. Me. My charm, my fine ass and my hot loving.

That hot loving better include caramel cake.

I’ll make sure to stop at the store.

Good decision, Daddy.

Would you make me your sweet and sour chicken tonight, Chefgirl?

We had that two nights ago, Nat.

What can I say? I have a craving. I NEED IT.

Um, I’m the pregnant one. Shouldn’t I be having the cravings?

Sympathy cravings. Besides your cravings are constant.

For me, Chefgirl. Seems to me I barely get in the front door these days and you’re all over me. I’m lucky I can walk in the morning.

And you’re complaining?

NOT A BIT. Just saying.

Now that you mention it, Nat I think I suddenly have a craving . . . an intense one. And I need it eased . . . right now!

Chefgirl, I’m blushing. And we’re rather far apart.

You’re the boss. You can leave.

And you? How will you get out?

Morning sickness is just a myth. It can strike at any time of the day.

Excellent. Let me get this straight—I’m gonna sneak out of here and you’re gonna go make some horrid retching noises, get some sympathy, meet me at home and have your wicked way with me?

Yep, that’s about it.

I’m surprisingly good with that. On my way to the car now.

I’ll meet you at home. Be ready. Naked for me. I need to feel you.

WOW. CHEFGIRL. Suddenly my craving kicked into a pulsating need. YOU get home to me, woman. I am ALREADY ready.

I like you pulsating. In me. On my way.

Fuck—I had no idea pregnancy would turn you into this . . . wanton wench. I like it.

Wanton wench? I’ll show you wanton . . . Get home.

Um . . . Chefgirl?

Yeah?

I still get the chicken . . . after the wanton-ness . . . right?

Nat—I think your son might be anxious to meet you?

Uh-oh. Is he moving around a lot today?