The Firefly Effect (38 page)

“What’s wrong with it?” he wants to know.

With a fork, I poke the gnarled crust of my first sad attempt at a made-from-scratch apple pie. “What’s wrong with it? Look at this thing! It looks like a two-year-old made it out of Play-Doh. And then sat on it.”

“It smells good,” he offers helpfully. Even though I can tell from his voice he’s doing his best not to laugh. “Seriously, babe, it looks fine. I told you, you didn’t have to go to all this trouble. We could have gone out for dinner. You shouldn’t be on your feet so much.”

“Why? There’s nothing wrong with my feet. Besides, you did most of it.” When he told me his family was coming up for the weekend, I insisted on having a nice hot meal ready for them when they got here. And being the sweet, doting husband that he is, Shane stayed right by my side and helped out. He’s actually pretty adept in the kitchen.

And the bedroom.

And the bathroom.

And basically every other room in the house. Believe me, we’ve christened them all.

Damn these crazy pregnancy hormones. I look and feel like I swallowed a beach ball – how can he still turn me on with so little effort? Like earlier, when he was humming to himself while chopping the vegetables. I swear, something about watching him do that made me want to jump his bones.

Maybe it’s seeing him do the domestic thing. It’s just so darn cute.

“I think Mommy needs to go sit down and let Daddy straighten up in here,” he croons to my tummy as he rubs it. “What do you say, doodlebug? You didn’t want any stinky old apple pie anyway, did you?”

“When he starts answering back, let me know. And what do you mean, stinky?” Right on cue, I am kicked sharply from the inside by the overactive little bun in my oven. “
Whoa!
Easy there, shorty!”

Shane chuckles as he hugs me gently. “I could be wrong. Maybe he
is
hungry.”

“I don’t see how, after everything I just shoveled in my face.” Lately I’m hungry all the time. I wouldn’t be surprised if I give birth to the only thirty-pound newborn in existence.

“He probably just wants to come out and meet his beautiful mommy.”

“Well, it sure as heck isn’t for the pie.” I pat his arm with a wry smile. “I probably shouldn’t have tried to get fancy with the lattice on top. How does your mom get hers to turn out so perfect?”

“Years of practice, sugar.” Bursting into the kitchen with the leftover chicken noodle casserole, Louise plunks it on the counter before bending down to rummage through a cabinet. “You think I was born with a rolling pin in my hand? Shoulda seen me the first time I ever tried to fix a roast. I figured it wasn’t supposed to have any pink in it ’cause that must mean it was underdone, right? So I cooked that durn thing good and done, and buddy, I do mean
done
. Couldn’t hardly get a knife through the thing by the time I got finished with it, much less chew it. The dog wouldn’t even have anything to do with it. Licked it once and then put his nose down and took off with his tail between his legs, yelpin’ the whole way. Didn’t see him again for three days.”

Grinning, I reach above my head for the glass Corningware lid and hand it to her. She’s just teasing, of course. My spunky mother-in-law is always cracking jokes. “Well, I’m glad I bought some ice cream to put on top is all I can say. It looks like I was stone cold drunk when I put it together.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with it.”

“That’s what
I
said,” Shane agrees.

“Who was stone cold drunk?” Leah wants to know as she bounces in, empty bread basket in one hand and wine glass in the other. Tossing the basket on the counter, she sips her wine and raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“No one, yet.” With a playfully stern look, Louise plucks the glass from her hand and empties the contents into the sink. “Thought you were gonna clear the table?”

“I’m working on it! Can’t I even finish my wine first? Sheesh.”

“Not unless you plan on chasing it down the drain, little miss lush.”

Rolling her eyes, Leah props herself against the counter before noticing the pie in front of me. Her nose wrinkles as she eyes it skeptically. “Um…no offense, but what the heck is that supposed to be?”

“It’s
supposed
to be dessert.” I have to laugh at her dubious expression. “Yeah, I know. Don’t worry, the pound cake turned out better.”

“I don’t have room for dessert anyway,” she announces indifferently. “I’m stuffed. Dinner was really good – you’re gonna have to show me how to make that stuff with the cheese and Ritz crackers on top, whatever you call it. It was awesome.”

“I got the recipe off a bag of noodles,” I confess. It did turn out really good, though to be honest these days I’m not very discerning. Pregnancy has given me a voracious appetite. I ate so much tonight I’m starting to wonder if I might need to go track down an Alka-Seltzer.

Well, maybe after a little sliver of cake. And some ice cream. And a dollop of Cool Whip.

I wonder if we have any chocolate syrup?

“I gotta learn how to cook something besides popcorn and microwave pizza,” Leah complains. “I’m just so busy, I never have the time. Do you know that everyone at the McDonald’s drive-thru knows me by name? Myles swears if I ever miss a day there, they’re going to call the police and report me missing.”

Myles is her current flavor of the month. She’s been playing the field with reckless abandon ever since her short-lived fling with Brad. That jerk had us all fooled with his shy, nice-guy act. Turns out he was a major creep. After he fired her, she got a part-time job working at my father’s law firm and is now focusing on legal studies rather than journalism. She’s doing pretty good, I guess. Personally I’d like to see her settle down and stop partying so much, but she seems happy enough. Which is what matters.

“Don’t listen to her. She knows how to cook, she just doesn’t like cleaning up afterwards.” With one hand, Louise pinches her stepdaughter’s cheeks so hard Leah’s mouth puckers out like a goldfish.

“Well, der is dat,” she admits through her fish lips.

“He’s really turning somersaults tonight, isn’t he?” Shane murmurs, still cradling my belly in his hands. He’s tuned everyone else out and is concentrating instead on feeling the baby kick. He loves that. I do too, except when it’s the middle of the night and the kid’s practicing his karate moves in there while I’m trying to sleep.

“Did you two ever decide on a name?”

“Are we reconvening in the kitchen?” Louise’s question is interrupted as Hank comes strolling in from the dining room, bearing a serving dish with only a few stray peas left in the bottom. He passes it to his wife before turning his attention to me. “Oh hey, almost slipped my mind – I understand congratulations are in order. I hear your book was quite a hit. Made the New York Times best sellers list, didn’t it?”

“That’s right!” Louise puts the dish in the sink and wipes her hands on a dishtowel before putting an arm around me for a quick hug. “Congratulations, sugar. That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“Thank you,” I smile. My latest book was released over a month ago and sales are still jumping. I’ve already started on the next one, but it could be a while before it’s out. Kristine Lane may be taking a hiatus so her alter ego can focus on mommy duties.

“So,
have
you decided on a name?”

“We’re thinking of Jeremy Elliott.” Shane winks at me and I slip my hand in his, trying not to cringe against the nagging discomfort in my middle. My stomach is cramping again. A little stronger this time.

On second thought, that cake and ice cream doesn’t sound so good after all.

Suddenly noticing the clock on the wall, Leah gestures at it with her thumb. “Hey you guys, I think we better get a move on. Look at the time. Dessert might have to wait ’til later.”

We have plans to go to the synchronous firefly viewing at the Elkmont campground inside the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It was Shane’s idea. I can’t help but adore how romantically sentimental my husband is. How on earth did I get to be so lucky?

“That’s true, it is getting late,” Hank agrees. “We better get going. The first shuttle leaves at seven.”

“All right…everyone scoot. Go get ready and we’ll head out in five minutes.” The kitchen empties out, leaving me alone with Shane, and he tugs at my hand as I try to follow everyone into the living room. “Not you, woman. You wait just a minute.”

I look up at him questioningly.

“I need a kiss first.” His eyes twinkle as he gathers me in his embrace and steals the kiss that has me melting in his arms. “I love you, Felony.”

“I love you too, Pain,” I tell him, and I mean it with every fiber of my being.

“Yeah, you do.” With a playful tweak to my nose, he turns to head out.

But instead of going with him I freeze in place, rooted to the floor as a sudden gush of wet warmth soaks the crotch and thighs of my stretchy maternity pants.

What the hell? Did I just…was that…was it…oh my God! Did my water just break? It did! But it’s not time yet, not for another three weeks! Oh no, I have to call my parents…I have to call Madelyn…I have to…eww, I have to get out of these wet pants…

Shane pauses to look back at me. “Are you ready to go, babe?”

My mouth parts in disbelief and I stare at him with wide, unblinking eyes. “Uh. Sure. Only I think we’re going to have to make a little detour along the way.”

“Okay, but we’ll have to make it quick. Where did you need to go?”

“The hospital,” I tell him as a slow, furtive smile begins to unfold. “You might want to run upstairs and get my overnight bag. I could be mistaken, but I think you’re about to become a father.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

About the Author

Born and raised in small-town Alabama, Allie Gail currently resides in the panhandle of Florida with her schmexy blue-eyed hubby, where they are both held hostage by two evil entities disguised as cats. (If you’re reading this – send help!!) She has always been a diehard fan of romance, and
The Firefly Effect
is her sixth novel falling into that genre, though her first attempt at anything resembling erotica. So if it falls beneath your expectations, you can blame the feline poop machines for killing the mood.

When she isn’t busy obsessing over the lexicon of her latest project, Allie can usually be found snuggled up to her hubby watching Netflix, helping out with the family business or playing online RPG games while indulging her hopeless addiction to Tootsie Rolls.

In other words, she’s a total nerd.

Connect with her at
http://www.facebook.com/alliegailauthor
or follow Allie on Twitter at
http://twitter.com/alliegailauthor
.

She would love to hear from you!

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Bonus Excerpt

Burning Down the House

“Hellooo, baaaa
-by!
”

Startled, I floundered to cover my boobs while splashing water over the side of the tub and all across the floor in the process. “What the hell! What are you - get
out
of here!” I threw a loofah at him but in my haste I missed.

Ignoring my demand, Rob moseyed over to kneel beside the bathtub, propping his arms on the edge and smirking at my compromising position. There weren’t any bubbles left to hide under, so I quickly drew my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “What are you, deaf? I said
get out!
”

“I heard what you said.” To my amazement, he dipped his fingers in the water and swirled them around. “Water’s getting cold.”

“Then take your hand out of it!” I snapped, my cheeks flushing pink.

“I think we should let it out.” He reached underwater for the drain stopper, and his grin slowly spread as my eyes widened.

“Don’t you dare.”

“See…payback’s a bitch, now isn’t it?”

“Don’t touch that drain. I mean it.” To my horror, I felt an overwhelming urge to laugh and I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. For some idiotic reason, whenever I get nervous I start giggling like a deranged person. I have no idea why. It’s very annoying, especially because it happens at the most inopportune moments.

“I thought we were playing You-Show-Me-Yours-And-I’ll-Show-You-Mine.” He lifted the edge of the stopper just enough to tease me, allowing a small amount of water to escape. “Well, you had your go and now it’s my turn.”

“I think you’ve had one too many beers!” That probably wasn’t even far from the truth. After all, I’d never seen him acting this cheeky before.

“Whoops. Oh my goodness - what do we have here?” He plucked the stopper completely out and held it up, just out of my reach. The water began to rush down the drain. To me it seemed to be disappearing ten times faster than usual.

“It’s not funny!” I protested, even though I was struggling not to giggle at that point. My shoulders were shaking.