Rogue Cowboy (15 page)

I shake my head, smiling.  I think
I’m
the one with good taste.  After all, I chose him.

Two Months & Three weeks later

It’s all come down to this.  This moment.  This minute.  Every second of our lives has led us to this point.

“Push, Sienna,” the nurse instructs.

I grip my wife’s hand and try to contain my emotions as a pain I can’t bear to imagine rips through her stomach.

“Argh,” she lets out a guttural groan that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end.

Fuck!  This is worse than I thought.

Her fingers go white.  Her face goes red.  Beads of sweat pour off her.

“Again, Sienna. Push.”

“Push, baby.  You can do it.  You’re doing a great job so far, darlin’.”  I do my best to encourage her, but I feel like I’m talking out my arse.  I’ve got no clue what I’m fucking doing.

“That’s it, Sienna.  Great work.  Keep it up,” the nurse says.

Sienna makes a strangled whimpering sound and my eyes find hers.

She focuses on me, her clenched teeth bared. 

“Dad, do you want to have a look?”

Up until that point, I didn’t want to look.  I was happy to stand near Sienna’s head, too afraid to look down there in case I passed the fuck out.

But when that nurse asks me, I can’t hold back.  I peer down my wife’s body and between her legs to see the tiny baby’s head sitting there.  I watch in fascination as the baby turns, opens its eyes and stares at me.

It’s the most surreal moment of my life.

Our baby.

Sienna pushes again and it slides right out of her and into the waiting arms of the nurse who then hands the baby to Sienna.

“Well, Dad?” the nurse asks.

“It’s a girl.”  I swallow the lump in my throat and look down at my two beautiful girls – one who was created
for
me, and one who was created
by
me.

“Welcome to the world, Ivie Louise Stewart.”

THE END

Keep reading for Cowboy Struggles (Ava & Jeremy) A Novella.

Ava & Jeremy

A NOVELLA

by

KASEY MILLSTEAD

5 years ago

Three minutes.

One hundred and eighty seconds.

My foot taps impatiently on the tiled floor as my eyes dart down to my wrist watch precisely every five seconds, waiting for the elusive three minutes to pass.

It takes
forever
.

My heart beats nervously in my chest.

Finally
the time passes.

I gingerly reach out to take the white stick from the basin.  I close my eyes for a beat before opening them and looking down.

One line.

My heart sinks.

I toss the stick in the trash and dejectedly walk out of the bathroom.  I was hoping today would be the day.  It would be the perfect way to celebrate our one-year wedding anniversary.  We have been trying for a baby since our honeymoon and I’m beginning to think it is never going to happen.

Each month for the first six months, I was positive. 
It will happen, just give it time.
  But, after six months of trying – and ladies, my husband is Jeremy Henley, so there has been
a lot
of trying – I started to get disheartened.  That’s when the tears started to come. 

To make matters worse, every second person is always asking us when the baby is coming. 

“
Oscar needs a baby brother or sister.  Being an only child won’t be good for him.”
 

“
When are you two going to have a baby?”

“
Are you two trying yet?”
 

Every question feels like a personal jab to my heart and depresses me even more, especially when the people who are asking don’t really give a shit about the answer.  It is becoming harder and harder to brush the questions off with a lighthearted answer and a smile.  Now, I want to scowl and punch people in the face when they ask.  I want to scream,
“It’s none of your damn business!”
  Or,
“No, I’m not pregnant yet.  Yes, I want a baby.  No, I don’t know why it hasn’t happened yet, so will you please just FUCK OFF!”

Clearly, I’m losing my mind.  It seems, I’ve moved passed the depressed stage and into the rage stage. 
Great.

But, there is a time and a place for anger, and now is not that time.  I have to go and get my son, Oscar, from the bus stop, and he deserves a happy mum, not an angry, sad, emotionally unstable mum.

“Hey, little man.”  I greet him with a smile as my heart expands with love at the sight of him jumping down the final step off the bus. 

“Hi, Mummy,” he yells, running towards me.  His body collides with mine and he wraps his arms around me.  I throw the bus driver a wave and then hug him back. 

“How was school?”

“Good.  Miss Jamison said Oscar was the best at adding numbers and Oscar got an award,” he says proudly.

“You did?” I beam.

“Uh-huh.”  He bobs his head up and down fast and then drops his bag to reach in and dig out the crumpled award.

“Wow.  This is amazing, honey.  I’m so proud of you.”

“Oscar wants to show Dad now.”

“Okay, little man, let’s go show your dad.”

We jump in the car and drive to the helicopter hangars to find Jeremy. 

As soon as we walk in, I spot my husband.  He is talking to one of the guys in the cockpit of the chopper.  Oscar spots him too, and goes running off to him, while I walk – quickly – behind him.

“Hey, bud, how was school?”

“Oscar got an award!” Oscar shouts.

The guys in the hangars – Jeremy’s employees – all cheer out for Oscar, making him grin big.  Jeremy congratulates him and scruffs his hair.

“Good job, bud.  I think you get your brains from your mum though.”  He throws me a wink and a grin, and I smile back.  I think, if it’s even possible, I love my husband more now than ever before.

He strides over to me and leans down, touching his lips to mine.  “You okay, honey?  You’re trying to hide it, but I can see a bit of sadness in my girl’s eyes.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat.  “I’m fine.  I’ll tell you later.”

He gives me a small smile, but from the way his eyes flash, I know he knows I’ve taken another test and it’s negative.

“It will be okay, Ava.”  He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight.  “Oscar can stay here with me.  Why don’t you go home and ring Dr. Harolds?  See if he can fit us in for an appointment soon,” he says gently.

Dr Harolds is my gynecologist, but he is also an obstetrician.  We have already been to see him once, and that was when we had been trying for about eight months.  He suggested waiting a full year before revisiting and looking further into our options if I still wasn’t pregnant.

“Okay,” I nod.  “It will probably be a six week wait or more, but at least we will have an appointment.”  I shrug.

“You go do that, honey.”  He kisses me again, this time more deeply than before.  His tongue sweeps in through my mouth and I moan softly.  He pulls me against him and I feel every firm inch of his delectable body.

“Dad!  Grant said I can flick the switch!” Oscar shouts excitedly, interrupting our moment.  I laugh, but don’t move from my husband’s arms.

“Okay, bud.  But, be careful and listen to what Grant tells you,” Jeremy shouts back, looking over his shoulder to where Oscar is following Grant – one of Jeremy’s employees – over to the chopper.  Oscar flicking the switch, means Grant is going to let him start the helicopter for Grant to fly out.  Oscar
loves
flicking the switch!  He loves to watch the rotors whirl around, too.  He always stands, transfixed, before the choppers take off, his eyes never leaving the blades.

“Babe.” Jeremy gives me a squeeze to gain my attention.  “Go ring the doc.”

“I will.  I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey.  And, I promise everything will work out, okay.  We’ll get a baby, I promise.  Just looks like it’s going to take a little bit more time, but that’s all right, baby, because the best things in life are worth waiting for.  Yeah?”

I nod.  “Yeah.”

“Good. Now go ring the good doc.”

***

Walking inside, I kick off my boots and find Dr. Harolds’ number.   After searching through my phonebook, I find it, make the call and book an appointment for four weeks time.

Then, to take my mind off things, I decide to make a nice dinner for our anniversary, and then help Oscar with his homework.

“Did you make an appointment, honey?” Jeremy asks, popping the top off his beer and taking a swig.  I watch his throat move as he swallows, the tanned, muscular cords of his neck bobbing with the movement.

“Yeah.  Four weeks time.”

“Okay.”  He walks towards me. “That means we’ve got four weeks to practice.”

He bends down and his shoulder hits my middle.  I cry out, laughing as I’m flung over his shoulder and he carries me into the bedroom and tosses me onto our bed.  Climbing over me, he settles himself between my legs.

“Thanks for our anniversary dinner, honey,” he whispers against my lips.  We had roast lamb and vegetables, followed by pavlova for dessert.  Now, dinner is done, Oscar is in bed, and we
really
celebrate our milestone.

“Your welcome.  Happy Anniversary.”  I kiss him gently.  My hands go to the waistband of his jeans and I run my finger up, underneath his shirt, craving the warm feel of his skin on my fingertips.  I glide the shirt up his back slowly, while he nibbles on my neck, driving me wild as he runs his tongue over my pulse.

“Jeremy.” I squirm beneath him, needing more.

“Ava, honey.  So fuckin’ gorgeous.”  He unbuttons my nightshirt and it falls open, exposing my breasts to him.  His head dips down and he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, tormenting me.

“Feels so good,” I whisper, as he begins paying attention to my other breast.

Slowly moving his way down my body, he reaches my panties and drags them down my legs before spreading me wide, fully exposing my sex to him.

“Glistening,” he murmurs.  “My mouth’s waterin’ just waiting for a taste of your perfect pussy.”  He licks his lips.

Oh god, that’s hot!

He moves in, licking me from top to bottom in one smooth motion, swirling his tongue around my clit.

He’s so good at that!

Two fingers slide inside and he continues his delicious torture until my body winds as tight as it can go, and I snap.  I go flying off the cliff as I come against him, crying out his name and grinding my pelvis into his face.

He flops down beside me, reaches over and drags me on top of his hard body.

“Ride me,” he commands.

I tease him, sliding my wet centre over his red, angry cock, coating him in my arousal.

“Stop playing, Ava,” he warns.

The tip of his dick glides over my clit and I shudder in delight.

My hands go to his chest and I brace myself, lifting up to position his cock at my entrance and I sink down hard, impaling myself with him.

“Fucking Christ,” he hisses, gripping my hips, his fingers digging in to guide the speed of my rocking.

My head falls back as the pleasure overcomes me.  My hands go to my breasts and I grip my nipples between my fingers, rolling them, earning me a growl from him.  He begins to thrust up, furiously pounding into me from below.

“Come with me, honey.”

“Yes,” I cry.  “Now.”

“Now,” he agrees on a rumble.  My sex clenches around him and I jerk on his cock as my orgasm consumes me.  I feel him expand inside me and then he’s coming on a long, low, drawn out moan, filling me with his seed.

I collapse onto his chest, panting and he begins running his fingers lightly up my spine, calming me.

“It’ll happen, honey.  I know it will.  We’ll get a baby.”

I swallow thickly and nod.

God, I hope he’s right.

***

Four weeks later, we’re pulling into Dr Harolds’ office after dropping Oscar off at school.

I’m nervous, but excited and praying he can give us answers that will have me holding a little bundle of joy in my arms in nine months time.

“Ava, Jeremy.  Good to see you again. Come on in, and take a seat.”

Wringing my hands in my lap, I sit across from the doctor, with Jeremy by my side.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asks.

“We’ve been trying for a baby for a year now and nothing is happening,” I explain.

“Okay.  Well, let’s organize some blood work to see if there are any underlining issues with your cycling.  Are your periods usually regular?”

I nod.  “Yes.”

“The most likely cause of infertility of women like yourself; those who are young, fit and healthy, stems from not having sex at the right times.”

He goes on to explain the best times of the month for us to conceive, based on my cycle.  Then, he hands me a form to have some blood taken and makes another appointment for us in two weeks time.

I leave feeling hopeful.  A feeling that would diminish so much over the next few years, that I wasn’t even sure I would ever remember what it felt like.