A Fallow Heart (Tommy Creek #2)(36)

“Okay,” Dexter revised, “so he has, like, zero tolerance for alcohol.”

“Hey, it’s my third. Had one before we came over.” Bran’s face looked bright and flushed as he ordered another draft and wiped a sheen of sweat off his brow.

Coop couldn’t keep from laughing. “That is so ironic. I remember how Em used to win all the drinking contests when we were—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bran cut him off moodily. “My wife’s more of a man than I am. Zip it already.” But his scowl just as quickly morphed into a proud grin. “She’s so amazing. I am the luckiest man on earth.”

Deciding he liked Em’s husband, Coop shook his head and grinned. That was until Branson decided to press the Jo Ellen subject. “So you’re into Jo Ellen, not Emma Leigh, right? Because you seem like a good guy,” he repeated, and then paused to hiccup; “…and I’d say Joey really needs to get laid one of these days. Like soon. Hell, I doubt she’s had any fun since I met her, which was, what, ten years—”

“Wait one damn second here.” Dex broke in to punch Bran in the arm. “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t go telling some stranger to sleep with one of my cousins.”

Branson blinked. “What? I’m sleeping with one of your cousins.”

Dex’s eyebrows snapped together with annoyance. “Well, you’re not some stranger I just met in a bar, either, moron. On occasion, when you’re not acting too stupid to live, you’re sadly my best friend.” Then he cracked a grin before taunting, “Besides, I’m sleeping with your sister.”

Bran’s drunken smile fell flat. He pointed an accusing finger at Dexter. “That’s just wrong, man. I should kick your ass.” But when Bran dove to tackle Dexter, Dex darted out of his way with a husky laugh.

“Ha! Missed me.”

Growing more irritated and less coordinated, Bran stumbled after him, swearing, “Not this time, ass wipe.”

Watching them, Coop took a drink. In all his years of coming here, this had to be the strangest entertainment he’d ever gotten from Rio’s bar. But it was amusing nonetheless. He monitored their chase, ready to intercede before anyone got hurt, while Dex led the drunken Branson around a pool table and past the wall of dartboards until the ladies’ bathroom door opened. Immediately, he forgot about the men.

Jo Ellen was the first to emerge. His heart gave a heavy thump against his ribcage. He tried to forget Bran’s drunken comment—Joey really needs to get laid one of these days—but it kept churning through his head, making his skin heat and every follicle of hair on his body stand erect. His mouth watered, already imagining what it wanted to do to those pert nipples he’d glimpsed through her shirt.

His body dominated so much of his thinking as he watched her it took him a second to realize anything was wrong. But the tension on her face, not to mention the strange way all three ladies exited the bathroom, had him squinting in confusion. The pregnant one stayed huddled directly behind Jo Ellen, sandwiched between her and Emma Leigh who brought up the rear, forming a tight little train of follow the leader.

Something was definitely up. He jerked to his feet, ready to help in case he was needed.

A second later, Dex must’ve noticed the anxiety emanating from the ladies as well. He stopped dodging Bran’s clumsy attempts to catch him and jerked to a halt.

“What’s wrong?” When he focused on Lexi’s face, he hurried forward, demanding, “What’d you two do to my wife?”

Jo Ellen cleared her throat. “Um…we…well, we’ve decided her water broke.”

Cooper pulled back and sucked in a breath, noticing Lexi’s wet pants, soaked from her lap to her ankles. Silently, he agreed with Jo Ellen’s summation. But Dex wasn’t so persuaded.

He gaped at Jo Ellen as if she’d spoken a foreign language. Then he exploded, “You decided? What, like you took a vote on it or something? Let’s break Lexi’s water. Yeah, that sounds like fun. Jesus.” He ran his hand through his hair, glaring at Jo Ellen. “What the hell?”

“Honey,” Lexi said, slipping from between the twins to grasp his arm.

He clenched his teeth. “No,” he denied heartily. “You…this can’t be. We’re a month from the due date. For God’s sake, we’re fifteen hundred miles from home, Lex.”

“But—”

“No!” he yelled. “You cannot go into labor. End of discussion.”

“Dexter Henry Pratchett,” Alexa hissed, stomping her foot. “I…am…in labor, damn it! Now get me to a hospital before I deliver our baby right here in this bar.” As if to prove she wasn’t lying, she cringed and doubled slightly, grasping her swollen stomach.

It reminded Cooper too much of when Jo Ellen had done that very thing the night she’d miscarried. Fear and panic propelling him into action, he lurched forward to catch her, but her husband beat him to her side, grasping her shoulders and tugging her up against his chest.

“Lex?” His raspy voice mirrored all the anxious emotions bubbling inside Coop…in triplicate.

After a couple hard pants, his wife nodded into his shoulder, her muffled answer coming, “I’m fine. Just a small contraction.”

“Contra—” Dex’s face drained of color. “Dear God, you’re in labor.”