Page 7 of Quid Pro Beau

I’m not sure which of us has moved closer to the other, but we are standing pretty close now. I can see the green ring around the blue of her eyes.

Then she yelps and falls forward against my chest.

Instinctively I grab her by the hips to stabilize her. That’s when I look down to see that Mouse has effectively wrapped us together with his leash.

Daisy notices too and laughs.

The sound is pure magic and feels like warm sunshine spreading through my body.

Her hands fist in my shirt. My hands fit to her soft curves like they were meant to hold them. Our bodies press together in one surprisingly intimate knot. And for a second—just one stupid second—we both freeze.

Her breath brushes against my throat, quick and sweet, and her eyes lock onto mine.

Mouse, of course, sits on his ass like this moment is his greatest achievement.

With her body pressed against mine, I can feel the weight of her baby bump. I think that's what they're called. I don't know.

And all I can think of is that she's growing a person in there, another human being. She's just growing it.

I don't think I've ever, in my life, been more in awe of another person than I am of her. Even though I know women do this sort of thing all the time. But other women aren't pressed against me, smelling sweet and looking heartbreakingly beautiful with the wisps of curls framing her face.

The truth is simple: even though I don’t quite understand it, I just know other women aren’t Daisy.

“I don't know,” I say. “I’m probably not even going to ask this the right way. But, you know, I've never had a sister or mom or whatever, so I don't know, but like, when does the baby come?”

She smiles. “You mean how far along am I, or when is the due date? Those are generally the way people ask.”

“Right.” I shrug. “Yeah, so when is that? Sorry if that's too personal of a question. Your brother had mentioned that you were pregnant and⁠—”

“You can feel my pregnant belly, all sweat slicked pressed against you,” she says.

Fuck, why does that sound so delicious and filthy when she describes it like that?

“I’m about eighteen weeks. Nearly halfway there. Nugget is about the size of a banana right about now.”

“Do you know what it is?” I ask dumbly.

“Not yet. I have an anatomy scan soon. Had to locate a new doctor once I got here.”

Yeah, we’re having this entire conversation while trapped together with a leash. I am a moron.

Still, I find myself unwilling to figure out a way to separate us.

“Does the dog have a name?” she asks.

“I've been calling him Mouse, just because he's pretty skittish.”

“Mouse. I can see it.” She bites down on her lip and asks. “Think maybe we could work together somehow and see if we can get ourselves untangled.”

“Right! Sorry,” I say.

“It’s okay. It’s just that Nugget is poking at my bladder, and I’d rather not fall on the cement.”

“Oh, Daisy, I wouldn't let you fall. I mean, you could fall on me. I’ll take the hit to protect you and the baby.”

I do what I can to maneuver the leash around, having to unclip it from Mouse’s collar.

“Do not run away, you menace,” I tell him.