Wilder Hearts: Once Upon a Pregnancy

On the night they’d made love, she hadn’t had any of her usual intimacy issues, so the sex had been incredible.

In fact, they’d made love until they’d run out of condoms, and she’d lost count of the climaxes she’d had.

But as the morning sun began to peer through the slats of the miniblinds, Simone had awakened, the sheets tangled at their feet and the scent of lovemaking in the air.

Dawn had brought forth a sobering reality, just as the gong sounding midnight had broken the spell cast on Cinderella.

Simone could no longer keep up the pretense in the light of day, so she’d slipped out of bed, grabbed a robe and found an excuse to send Mike on his way.

She just wished she could do the same thing with the memory of their romantic bedroom antics.

A sharp, whining cry tore through the house, and Simone threw off the covers and jumped out of bed.

Poor little Wags.

What in the world had Woofer done to him?

When she reached the kitchen, Wags had stopped his cries and sat next to Woofer at the gate, their tails swishing across the linoleum floor as though the whining had been a ploy to draw her back to them.

Nevertheless, she picked up Wags and looked him over carefully.

There wasn’t any sign of blood.

“Darn you guys,” she uttered.

If Mike had been home, she would have called and insisted he come pick up Wags. But he was on duty tonight.

And she was stuck until his shift ended.

At seven-fifteen the next morning, Simone finally climbed out of bed and, while exhausted, gave up any hope of getting a solid block of sleep. Thanks to the dogs, who’d whined and begged to be allowed to run free in the house all night, she’d slept fitfully. And since Wags wasn’t housebroken, she’d had to make repeated trips outside.

The trouble was, she hadn’t made it two feet out of her bedroom when she was laid low by a wave of nausea, followed by an annoying case of the dry heaves.

Being pregnant wasn’t any fun at all, and she wanted to blame Mike, the stars or just plain bad luck, but the only one responsible was the pale, red-eyed, wild-haired woman staring back at her in the bathroom mirror.

After washing her face with cool water, she’d taken the dogs out to the backyard. Now she stood in the middle of the dew-drenched lawn in her pale green bathrobe and a pair of fuzzy pink slippers that had seen better days. She watched Woofer, who was—hopefully—teaching Wags what he should be doing outdoors and not inside on the kitchen floor.

The sky was overcast, and a wintry chill that had been absent yesterday urged her to slide her hands into the pockets of her robe.

She didn’t want to be outside; she wanted to go back to bed.

God, what was she going to do?

She had to go to work this afternoon and had planned to leave Wags and Woofer in the yard alone, but they still needed supervision.

Mike wouldn’t get off until six this evening, so she was stuck without any chance of taking a nap before her shift started. That is, unless she found someone else to puppy-sit.

Think, she told herself. There had to be someone she could call.

Oh, wait.

Talk about lightbulb moments.

Maybe Millie would take Wags and keep him at Tails a Waggin’ today. Then Simone could get some sleep before she had to work.

“Come on, you guys.” She turned and headed up the back steps to the service porch, the dogs on her heels. She was going to call Mike at the station and tell him he could pick up Wags at the pet store when he got off work.

Once inside the house, she grabbed the phone book and looked for the number, then placed a call to the Walnut River Fire Department.

Woofer, who couldn’t have gotten much sleep either, curled up at her feet, while Wags took off, exploring the part of the house that had been off limits to him all night.

Someone grabbed the phone on the second ring. “Fire department.”

She didn’t recognize the man who’d answered, but supposed it didn’t matter. “This is Simone Garner. Is Mike O’Rourke available?”

“He sure is. I’ll get him for you.”

She was placed on hold for a moment or two, until a familiar voice came over the line.

“Hey, Simone. How’s it going?” His tone was light and upbeat.

Hers, unfortunately, was not. “This isn’t going to work, Mike.”

“What’s the matter?”

“The dogs. I didn’t get any sleep last night. I’m going to have to ask Millie Baxter if she’ll look after Wags so I can get some rest before I have to go to the hospital. And I hope she’ll say yes. If so, can you pick him up at Tails a Waggin’?”

“Sure.”

“You’ll have to watch them tonight. Woofer isn’t always happy about sharing his territory with a pesky pup, so sometimes they’ll have to be separated.” She glanced up long enough to see that Wags had returned, carrying something in his mouth.

When he growled as though he’d captured a pint-size prowler and was going to shake the life out of it, she took a closer look at what he’d locked his teeth onto.

Her shoe!

“Oh, no!” She dropped the phone on the counter and hurried toward Wags, who had chomped down on one of the brand-new black heels that she’d spent entirely too much money on.

But the moment Wags saw her coming, he dashed off, taking the shoe with him.

She’d probably never have reason to wear it again anyway, but that wasn’t the point. “Come back here with that! You’re going to ruin it.”

As Wags ran through the house, dodging her at every turn, she swore under her breath.

Now this was something she could blame on Mike.

Mike gripped the receiver and strained to hear what was going on at Simone’s house.

“Honey?” The endearment slipped out before he could catch himself, and when there was no response from her, he blew out a sigh of relief.