23
Jace
I hate to admit that I like flirty Olivia.
There’s something primal about her carrying my child, looking sultry and seductive. Even when she’s not trying to be sexy, she’s irresistible.
Olivia doesn’t answer me when I ask her which cravings she wants me to satisfy. I’ve tried to tread carefully. The last thing I want is for her to throw a sexual harassment suit at me.
She wants me to stop for ice cream, but it’s already growing closer to dinner. I’m a bit hungry for dinner, and I imagine she is too. “Ice cream is after dinner,” I remind her. “I can have Markus or Vincent make a run after we eat to bring you whatever flavor of ice cream that you crave.”
Olivia grumbles under her breath.
She doesn’t sound the least bit satisfied or pleased with my suggestion. I thought after the long day with work and at the doctor that she’d want to put her feet up, relax.
“We can watch a movie together after dinner,” I suggest. I want her to unwind, and if she isn’t sleeping, whatever the cause may be, she isn’t taking care of herself.
“Promise me it won’t be a guy movie.”
“What’s a guy movie?”
“Blood, guts, gore. Action with no plot.”
“I’d like to think the movies I choose have a plot,” I say. But she isn’t wrong about my typical selection. “We can watch whatever you want, even if it’s a chick flick.”
She scrunches her nose most endearingly. “And you’ll have melted ice cream delivered?”
I pull up to the house, and the guard at the driveway entrance unlocks the gate. I give him a brief nod and a wave of thanks. “It won’t melt. It’s freezing outside,” I counter.
“Well, the car will be warm.”
It’s like she’s trying to pick a fault with everything I suggest. I exhale a heavy sigh. Bringing her here was my idea. Having her live under my roof. “If you want me to take you out after dinner for ice cream, I will.”
“Thank you.” Her smile brightens up the car.
I swear it’s like dealing with a child. Is this what I get to look forward to when my daughter is born? Of course, she won’t be eating ice cream straight away, but the constant neediness and attention.
I groan.
This is exactly what I signed up for, isn’t it?
* * *
After dinner, Olivia and I head to the car. With the sun setting, she grabs a heavier coat, but the buttons don’t secure. It’s getting too small with her round, pregnant belly.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay in, and we can order dessert?” I don’t mind going out into the cold. But she isn’t appropriately dressed for the weather.
“No chance of that. Your guards will bring back grocery store ice cream. I want the good stuff where they smash in brownies and mix it up in front of you.”
Well, at least she’s not craving pickles in her ice cream. Smashed brownie does sound pretty good.
I grab an extra beanie from the closet and pull it over her head, ensuring that she is warm and toasty.
She whips out a set of gloves from her pocket and slides them onto her hands. At least those still fit.
We head out into the cold. The car is already heated and running, thanks to Markus starting the engine.
In a matter of minutes, I park the car and step out to help Olivia out of the vehicle. “No bodyguards?” she asks. “How come I always require a bodyguard, but you never do?”