Ramsey: A Military Bad Boy Secret Baby Pregnancy Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 3) by Juliana Conners Page B
Authors: Juliana Conners
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putting me under a lot of pressure here.”
“Hurry up!” Becky says impatiently, pointing towards a timer sitting on top of the stove in the kitchen. “We’re almost out of time.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Why did the female fighter pilot paint her plane pink?”
“I don’t know? Let me think.” Becky scrunches up her cute, still baby- like nose. “So that it would match her toenails?”
I can’t help but laugh at that.
“No, but that’s a good one,” I say. “Even better than the real answer.”
“Well?” Becky taps her foot. “Why did she?”
“To shut up the douchebag guys, so they can’t make that old tired joke anymore.”
That does it. There’s an eruption of laughter from the china cupboard. I see a flap of fabric fall down in front of the glass window, where Monica must have been watching us.
“There she is! We found her! Yay!”
Becky runs over to the cupboard and pulls the doors open. Monica is scrunched up in an uncomfortable- looking position, laughing loudly now.
“Ramsey, you shouldn’t say those things to a child,” she scolds me, although she’s still smiling.
“What things?” My face is a mask of innocence.
“‘Douchebag,’ she whispers under her breath. “And ‘shut up’…”
“I’m still winning!” Becky says, dancing around the dining room, not paying any attention to the words I shouldn’t have said in front of her. “Hooray! Thank you, Ramsey!”
She runs back over to me and throws her arms around my legs. I look at Monica and shrug, sheepishly.
“We both had an interest in finding her,” I say.
I walk over to the china cupboard and extend a hand, to help Monica out.
“Thanks,” she says, uncurling her legs and arms. “I was pretty squished in there. And it was all for nothing. I didn’t even win, thanks to Becky’s cheating !”
When she’s all the way out of the cupboard, I pull her close to me, and we hug. It’s a long, strong hug that shows me she’s glad I’m here.
“I didn’t cheat!” Becky protests. “There’s no rule against asking for help!”
I lean down to kiss Monica, and Becky says, “Is this the Prince you met on your trip?”
“Shhhh! Becky!”
Monica’s face turns bright red.
“Thank you, Prince Ramsey, for helping me find your princess,” Becky says.
“And now he can help me put these dishes back before your mom gets home and kills me,” Monica says.
She goes to the pantry in the kitchen and retrieves some of the plates. I pick up some more and follow her back to the dining room.
Suddenly, we hear a piercing wail. It sounds like someone is on fire.
My instincts kick in, and I say, “What’s wrong? Who needs help?”
Monica laughs and says, “It’s just Mason. The baby. The clattering of the dishes must have woken him up.”
She looks hesitantly towards the top of the stairs, and I say, “Go ahead and go get him. Becky and I can put these plates away.”
I wink at her, and she throws me a grateful look before heading upstairs.
When she comes back down, she’s carrying a little boy, who is looking around in sleepy confusion.
“This is Mason,” she says, and Becky adds, “My little brother. He throws up a lot.”
“Hello, Mason.”
I pretend to shake his hand, not really knowing how to introduce myself to a baby, and he curls his tiny finger around mine.
“He likes me,” I say, grinning.
He puts my finger in his mouth.
“Or at least he likes to bite you,” Monica says, with a laugh. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s teething.”
“You’re excused, little man,” I tell him. “But only because you’re so cute.”
“Hey! I’m cute too!” says Becky.
“Yes you are, and that’s why I helped you find your aunt.”
She grins at me. And then there’s a knock on the door.
“Oh crap,” says Monica, looking around at the plates on the table, which haven’t made their way back to the china cupboard.
“I’ll get them,” I tell her. “You go ahead and answer the
“Hurry up!” Becky says impatiently, pointing towards a timer sitting on top of the stove in the kitchen. “We’re almost out of time.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Why did the female fighter pilot paint her plane pink?”
“I don’t know? Let me think.” Becky scrunches up her cute, still baby- like nose. “So that it would match her toenails?”
I can’t help but laugh at that.
“No, but that’s a good one,” I say. “Even better than the real answer.”
“Well?” Becky taps her foot. “Why did she?”
“To shut up the douchebag guys, so they can’t make that old tired joke anymore.”
That does it. There’s an eruption of laughter from the china cupboard. I see a flap of fabric fall down in front of the glass window, where Monica must have been watching us.
“There she is! We found her! Yay!”
Becky runs over to the cupboard and pulls the doors open. Monica is scrunched up in an uncomfortable- looking position, laughing loudly now.
“Ramsey, you shouldn’t say those things to a child,” she scolds me, although she’s still smiling.
“What things?” My face is a mask of innocence.
“‘Douchebag,’ she whispers under her breath. “And ‘shut up’…”
“I’m still winning!” Becky says, dancing around the dining room, not paying any attention to the words I shouldn’t have said in front of her. “Hooray! Thank you, Ramsey!”
She runs back over to me and throws her arms around my legs. I look at Monica and shrug, sheepishly.
“We both had an interest in finding her,” I say.
I walk over to the china cupboard and extend a hand, to help Monica out.
“Thanks,” she says, uncurling her legs and arms. “I was pretty squished in there. And it was all for nothing. I didn’t even win, thanks to Becky’s cheating !”
When she’s all the way out of the cupboard, I pull her close to me, and we hug. It’s a long, strong hug that shows me she’s glad I’m here.
“I didn’t cheat!” Becky protests. “There’s no rule against asking for help!”
I lean down to kiss Monica, and Becky says, “Is this the Prince you met on your trip?”
“Shhhh! Becky!”
Monica’s face turns bright red.
“Thank you, Prince Ramsey, for helping me find your princess,” Becky says.
“And now he can help me put these dishes back before your mom gets home and kills me,” Monica says.
She goes to the pantry in the kitchen and retrieves some of the plates. I pick up some more and follow her back to the dining room.
Suddenly, we hear a piercing wail. It sounds like someone is on fire.
My instincts kick in, and I say, “What’s wrong? Who needs help?”
Monica laughs and says, “It’s just Mason. The baby. The clattering of the dishes must have woken him up.”
She looks hesitantly towards the top of the stairs, and I say, “Go ahead and go get him. Becky and I can put these plates away.”
I wink at her, and she throws me a grateful look before heading upstairs.
When she comes back down, she’s carrying a little boy, who is looking around in sleepy confusion.
“This is Mason,” she says, and Becky adds, “My little brother. He throws up a lot.”
“Hello, Mason.”
I pretend to shake his hand, not really knowing how to introduce myself to a baby, and he curls his tiny finger around mine.
“He likes me,” I say, grinning.
He puts my finger in his mouth.
“Or at least he likes to bite you,” Monica says, with a laugh. “You’ll have to excuse him. He’s teething.”
“You’re excused, little man,” I tell him. “But only because you’re so cute.”
“Hey! I’m cute too!” says Becky.
“Yes you are, and that’s why I helped you find your aunt.”
She grins at me. And then there’s a knock on the door.
“Oh crap,” says Monica, looking around at the plates on the table, which haven’t made their way back to the china cupboard.
“I’ll get them,” I tell her. “You go ahead and answer the
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