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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I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to face the gigantic question that life had become. Just when I felt like everything had sorted itself out, Tammy had thrown a wrench into the machine. Did she even know it was mine? What if the baby belonged to that ex-boyfriend she was trying so hard to forget? What if she wasn’t really pregnant? Those over-the-counter tests could be wrong. Had she seen a doctor? Did she get a second opinion? I didn’t even let myself consider the Herculean task that lay ahead of us if it were true.

A baby of my own? Maybe a son to play catch with and teach how to fish, or a daughter to chaperone to high school dances, it wouldn’t be so bad. We could stay here in the cabin and transform Tammy’s room into a nursery. I had a good job, enough to support us if Tammy decided to stay home. Dillon and Jason had each ended up as fathers and were doing a good job; their kids were sweet and well-adjusted.

It was too much to think about right now. I needed to put one foot in front of the other and not concentrate on the future. I got up, showered and shaved, and left the house. I thought about knocking on Tammy’s door to check on her but couldn’t summon the courage. My reaction to her pregnancy news had been extreme. It never occurred to me to be happy when there were too many outstanding questions. We had to resolve the issue of paternity first and make sure the pregnancy test wasn’t lying. After that, when I was sure that I was going to be a father, I would let myself celebrate. Until then, a little space from Tammy would help.

I drove into work and clocked in. It seemed that there was always something on my mind these days. Tammy had me tied up in knots, no matter what I did. Either I was desperate to see her again, nervous about exposing my secrets or now obsessing about her unborn child. I had become practiced in the art of shifting my focus. I put on a mask and interacted with the customers as if nothing was wrong. I even made my manager smile by cleaning out the bargain bin in a single sale.

I was sweeping out the shop floor when my mom surprised me with a brown bag lunch. “I thought I would come find you,” she said.

“Thanks.” I took a look inside the bag. “I can go sit down in the kitchen to eat.”

We walked back to the house together. “I want to apologize for not trusting you,” she said.

“It’s okay,” I squeezed her in a side hug. “You were just doing what you thought was best.”

“I really thought you had a drug problem and that I had to do that ‘tough love’ stuff.” She sighed. “I should have just listened to you.”

“You didn’t know,” I allowed. “I don’t know how I would have reacted if it was my child.”

She smiled. “Hopefully you’ll never have a chance to find out.”

I assumed she meant that hopefully my child would never go to prison, not that I would never have a child. I held the door open for her and followed her into the kitchen, dropping my lunch on the table.

“Speaking of that, I have something to tell you,” I said.

Mom turned to face me, curiosity shining in her eyes.

“Tammy’s pregnant.”

Mom clapped her hands to her jaw, her face going from impassive to awestruck in a matter of seconds. She waved me into a hug, laughing and crying at the same time. I felt joy uncurl in my belly, along with a sharp sliver of guilt. Here was my mom, so excited to be a grandmother, and I had been such a tool. I could see her head fill up with Christmases and birthdays, with Easter egg hunts and Sunday breakfasts. She would want to fill her phone with pictures of the child to share with every friend, customer, and stranger she came across. In two words, I had brought unimaginable joy to her life. I stood awkwardly, waiting for her to calm down.

“Have you told your father?” Mom asked, breathless.

I shook my head. “Just you.”

“Okay, well.” She settled into a chair, overwhelmed with the news. “We’ll have to plan a baby shower. You’ll have to get married. Where are you going to register?”

“Mom.” I sank down beside her, the weight of all the things she had just said cracking my resolve. “I don’t think we’re there yet.”

“What do you mean, you’re not there yet?” Her voice took on an acidic quality that reminded me of the mom of a week ago.

“I don’t even know if it’s mine,” I said.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she snipped.


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