Nine Month Contract (Mountain Men Matchmaker, #1)

by Amy Daws

“I know I won’t be able to find you love, Uncle Wyatt. You’ve made it crystal clear that’s not what you want in life. But please, let me be a part of helping you become a dad before I go.” She stands on her tiptoes to kiss me on the cheek and whispers in my ear, “Because I know you will make an amazing one.” Well, fuck.

“But I’m ready to be more than an uncle. And while I know I want to be a dad, I don’t want to be a husband. And I realize I don’t have to be married to have a baby, but I don’t want to co-parent with someone. The idea of splitting time with my own blood the way my brother has to with Everly...it looks painful to me.” He pauses for a moment as his hand grips the pilsner glass firmly. His eyes darken when he adds, “I can be kind of possessive when it comes to those I love.”

That’s what it is. I’m attracted to him because he looks like a wolf, ready to attack. Typical me.

“Wouldn’t we use a fertility clinic with a donor egg? That’s usually the way these things go.” “Is that what you want?” He blinks back at me in confusion. “I’m not sure what I want matters.” Beige-flag answer. “Well, I can tell you from my research that if we do IVF and a donor egg, it will involve way more work on my part. We’re talking multiple trips per week to the clinic, daily intramuscular shots, bajingo suppositories—” “What’s a bajingo?” “My vagina, obviously,”

And why is he looking at me like that? And why does my body feel the way it feels right now? I’m hot and agitated having him so close to me and telling me what to do. I like it, and I loathe it. I like to loathe it! Gasp! This is the sweet-and-psycho bit that Everly warned me about.

Did I really just say to the mountain man whose sperm I’m about to inject into my vagina...toodles? I think I might actually be the psycho on this mountain.

Fuck, this is weird. I don’t know if it’s the booze talking or some caveman fantasy coming to life, but I just know that if she gave me the green light, I’d throw her up on this counter and fuck her till she was pregnant. And I’d like it. I’d like it a lot.

All the blogs said my cervix is way too high to poke, so I should be able to insert up to my fingers, but Jesus, what if it gets lost inside me? Good God, can you imagine? Patient enters ER with lost Tylenol syringe full of stranger’s semen. I must have missed that episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

“I don’t have any friends who look like you.” “What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, feeling oddly offended. “Tall, tattooed, bearded, and hotter than the Fourth of July?” Her gaze drifts down my body, and she shudders slightly. “Yeah, no... I don’t have friends like you, Wyatt.”

“I just think confidence and independence are two qualities that some men find hard to handle in a woman, and you just haven’t found a guy strong enough not to be afraid of it.”

“What about you? Do you have a bullpen of your own?” He watches me thoughtfully for a moment, his eyes dropping to my lips before he replies, “I haven’t felt the need to access it lately.” My lips purse together curiously. “Why is that?” A low rumble vibrates his chest as I watch his square jaw slide from side to side. “Because I might be focusing too much on getting into someone else’s bullpen.”

“I like your shirt, Luke,” I offer, staring at the red-and-black checked print. “It’s very...lumberjacky.” Luke makes an odd noise in his throat as he turns and finally makes eye contact with me. “He told us not to talk to you.” “What?” My head tilts in confusion, and I move to Wyatt, who looks positively enraged. “Wyatt said you can’t talk to me?” “I think his exact words were ‘Talk to her, and you die.’” Calder imitates Wyatt’s deep monotone perfectly, and my mouth drops open in shock when Calder adds, “Murder Wyatt is scary.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you help out Avery, talk to my brothers and my sister-in-law, or accept gifts from my mother,” he states. “So long as you quit keeping me at arm’s length when it’s clear as fucking day that all you want is for me to touch you everywhere.”

“if you let me fuck you, then you need to know that means I will own your body. Every particle on your skin will be mine for the taking. Do you understand?”

“You thought I was controlling before? You haven’t seen anything until I sink my cock deep inside you. Then you’ll really be mine.”

This baby is mine, this woman is mine, this cunt... I want it to be mine. No fucking shame.

With all the other men I’ve slept with, I’ve been in my head the whole time. Not necessarily in the driver’s seat, but fretting over body position and length of time I should be doing oral versus how loud my moans are and are they believable or can they tell I’m faking it. It’s a deep, insecure part of me that I don’t even like to admit to myself. But magically, I’m not pretending anything with Wyatt Fletcher.

“Sundown every other night?” Wyatt asks, and I glance over to see a very pleased look in his eyes. “Maybe not that much,” I retort, wondering if my body could even sustain that much sex. I really need to call and ask the nurse about sex during pregnancy. “We can just do it when the mood strikes us, I guess.” “I will be in the mood every day,” Wyatt deadpans. “Jesus.” “Multiple times a day if you like.” “Okay—” “A light breeze will get me in the mood with you.” “Whoa there, Mountain Man,”

It’s a heady combination. Seeing her all open and trusting...willing to do whatever I tell her. Wanting me and only me.

“Tell me everything on your mind as you watched me, Lucky. And don’t you dare leave the good stuff out.”

She never touches herself like this, and the sight of her embracing her belly with tears in her eyes, soaking wet in the rain, hair slicked down to her face, is soul crushing. I don’t just want to protect the baby at this moment. I want to protect her. I want to comfort her. I want to hold her. I want to burn the world to the ground for making her hurt like this.

“Good morning, Milkshake.” I drop soft kisses on her black-and-white fur. Milkshake seemed like a fitting name for her after I saw how she brought all the boys to the yard on that jobsite last week. She had Calder wrapped around her finger for sure.

Today is an off day. It’s morning. I’m late for work. He’s covered in mud. He’s been up most of the night... ...rescuing my chickens. I’ve never wanted him more.

“Every part of you feels so good it hurts,”

Calder exudes a bad-boy vibe. If I were to compare him to a dog, I’d probably call him a Rottweiler. Luke definitely has golden retriever energy, and Wyatt...that man is a German shepherd if I ever saw one. Striking, intimidating, protective, and strong. So strong.

I’m emotionally spent from revisiting a time in my life I try to forget. It makes me feel sick and regretful and ashamed. But lucky number thirteen in my arms? In her bed? It feels like redemption.

I’ll show them—my sister, my parents, the world—that even though I was left behind, I still found my way out.”

When I softly press my palm onto her flesh, a feeling of possessiveness roars through me. She is mine. Not just this baby but this woman. I want to protect and take care of them both. I’d do anything for them, and the heaviness that settles in my gut over that realization is terrifying and exciting.

“No, Wyatt. You’re perfect. You’re the perfect man.” Just not perfect for me. “Then tell me not to go,” Wyatt croaks, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his thick neck. “Tell me to tell Calder to fuck off. Tell me that it would make you fucking crazy to think about me seeing another woman’s body because it makes me want to violently hurt someone when I think about you just having coffee with Avery.”

“I’m saying she deserves to feel that level of devotion as much as you do,” Luke urges, his eyes softening. “She deserves to be a part of a family who actually cares. She deserves to be a part of our family if that’s what you want. Fuck our pact. We didn’t agree to it so it would never be broken. We agreed to it so we wouldn’t be broken. And losing Trista when this is all over will break you even worse than before, Wyatt. Fuck your contract, and fuck our pact.”

“I understand I probably ruined my chance with you. But I want you to remember that you told me once that you’re a ‘five minutes from now’ person, always stressing about the future. And remember, I’m a ‘five minutes late’ person because I’ve been constantly stuck in the past. But what if, together, we’re right on time? What if we help each other be in the present every day? Doesn’t that sound good, Wyatt?”

Wyatt bends over and boldly takes a bite of my toast. “Is this as serious as that time you cried at the restaurant because I ate your favorite-looking french fry?” I cut a sharp look at the man treading on very thin ice. “Jo, I’m going to need to call you back. Your son clearly woke up today and chose violence.”

“Okay, but you keep suggesting these fancy names, and our daughter will need something strong if she’s going to be a mountain kid, you know? Did you know that your name means noise?” “Mine?” “Yes, the name Trista literally means noisy.” “You’re lying. I need to google that. Go downstairs and grab my phone.” “Fact-check me for the rest of our lives, baby.” He kisses me on the lips and smirks. “Because when I read that, I figured that’s why we’re so perfect together. I’ve been quiet my whole life because the only voice I wanted to hear was yours.”

“What if we name her after your dad?” “Steven is kind of an odd name for a girl, isn’t it?” “Not if we call her Stevie.” Wyatt’s head pulls back as he considers this, his eyes turning to stare at the quilt with me. “Stevie?” I bite my lip and nod. “Stevie Everly Fletcher sounds pretty perfect, don’t you think?” Wyatt turns to look at me, concern etched in his brows. “These are all my family names.” “No, they’re not.” I poke him in the ribs, my heart warming in my chest as I say the next part out loud. “It’s my family too.”