Mountain Man Lumberjack Read Online Natasha L. Black

Categories Genre: Alpha Male Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
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18

TAMMY

Iwoke in Mike’s bed again, but Mike was gone. I had slept through his alarm apparently, and he had decided not to wake me. His side of the bed was cold when I stretched my hand across it. I sat up to check the time. Relief washed over me when I realized that I wasn’t late, and then something like a fever slammed into me, and I fell back against the pillow. My head felt wrong—I didn’t know how to describe it even to myself. I just felt sick. Then my stomach caught up to my head, and I rushed to the bathroom.

Falling to my knees, I was just in time to aim the small amount of undigested dinner into the toilet. It felt awful, and I shuddered, gripping the bowl with shaky hands. When the panic passed, I stood and rinsed my mouth with mouthwash. In the mirror, my reflection looked haunted. I looked two shades too pale, and my hair was stringy, probably because I hadn’t had a shower yet, but it still made me look worse than usual.

I felt my forehead and didn’t notice any temperature rise. I had just thrown up, so clearly, I was sick. I texted Lindsey to let her know I couldn’t come in that day. I texted Mike too, just to let him know I was home. He replied immediately by saying he could come home for lunch and bring me some chicken soup. I told him not to bother, since I was just going to watch Netflix and nap.

I didn’t know why I did it. When I thought of people who needed to know where I was, roommate wasn’t high on that list. You told your parents where you were going. You told your boss obviously. You told your spouse and your children if they were still living with you, but guy you were maybe dating? It felt awkward, but I reasoned that he might try to surprise me at work again, and I didn’t want him showing up there if I was here.

Soup did sound nice, and I remembered we had bought a few cans at the grocery store yesterday. I hunted through the cabinets until I found where Mike had put our meager supply of canned goods. My choices were beef stew, corn chowder, and chicken noodle. I grabbed the chicken noodle and opened the can, pouring it into a pot and setting it on the stove. For some reason, coffee didn’t call to me that day. I always drank coffee, but today my stomach rebelled. I didn’t want to do anything to anger it, so I just stood and waited for the soup to boil.

I spent the time mulling over yesterday’s brunch. Mike had seemed nervous when he first introduced his friend, as if maybe they weren’t really friends at all. There was a lot that had gone unsaid between them, a lot of pointed looks and pregnant pauses. I didn’t know what to make of it. Then there was that comment that Mr. Newbury made yesterday. Was Mike involved in something I didn’t know about? Was that why the bartender at the Lucky Lady was so sour with him?

The soup erupted against its lid and slid down the sides of the pot to sizzle on the burner. I turned the stove off. My stomach heaved again, and again I dashed to the bathroom to empty its contents. I left the soup untouched and curled up on the couch, feeling sorry for myself. It was never fun to be sick, but when there were all these questions floating around, I wondered if I had made the right decision moving in with Mike.

I decided to call Macy. Whatever was going on, she would make me feel better. I flipped to her contact and pressed the Call button.

“Hey.” Her voice sounded bright as always. “How’s it going?”

“It’s fine, but I’m sick.”

“Oh no,” she crooned. “What are your symptoms?”

“Stomachache, weirdness in my head.”

“What do you mean ‘weirdness’?” she puzzled.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of a floaty feeling.” I tried to describe the illness.

“Hmm, that’s how I felt whenever I was pregnant,” Macy said.

I froze. My breath lodged in my throat, and my head spun. How long had it been since I had my period? It was before the cookout, I was sure. Was it before I had come to Singer’s Ridge? Oh God, what did that mean?

“Tammy?” Macy nudged me. “I was kidding.”

“No,” I whispered. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Okay, I’m coming over. Don’t go anywhere.” She hung up, and I was left alone with the growing realization that Mike and I had been irresponsible in our lovemaking. We weren’t habitual lovers yet, but there were at least two times we had sex without protection, and the first was about a month ago. It was enough to get pregnant.


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