Golden Luckenbooth

Twenty-Nine

"You were great with the McAllister's Shetland's laminitis," I inform Arran as we stand side by side at the cooker while he prepares fajitas for dinner and I carefully heat the tortillas. "That one hoof was close to separating from the coffin bone."

"That's quite a compliment." He jostles my arm with his shoulder as we hear the door open. "I wonder if the pony ate too much grain or if the pasture has too much sugar. Would be a shame if it deteriorated after it improved."

"I suspect the McAllister's need to have the farrier in more frequently, but..." I pause when Harry wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head on my shoulder. Smiling, I reach up with my right hand and pat him on the head, my hand jerking away when I feel a fuzziness instead of the usual curly locks. Turning around, I stare at him, aghast. "Well, that's quite the change." Taking in his buzz cut head, I switch from shallow breaths to deeper ones as I attempt to process what he's done to himself.

He smirks at me, that dimple deepening. "Thought you might like to feel something different against your thighs."

Oh, for fuck's sake. He's cut his hair because he's worried I'll want to fuck another man. Not just any man, either. The one who is standing next to us, either holding in his laughter or his mortification.

Grabbing Harry's hand, I yank him behind me, all the way upstairs, yelling over my shoulder, "Turn off the tortillas, Arran! Be right back!" As we arrive at the bedroom, I draw Harry inside, slamming the door behind us.

"It's already working, isn't it? You want to try it out." His goofy grin is not even remotely subtle.

"Harry! Please tell me you didn't cut off all of your hair out of jealousy."

"What are you on about, Anna? I wanted to offer you a different experience!"

"When did I ever say I wasn't happy with our sex life?"

He shuffles his feet, looking at the floor before he glances at me and returns his gaze to the wooden planks beneath our feet.

"You don't like it?"

Exasperated, I sit on the edge of the bed. "Harry, let's be clear here. I don't care if you grow it out longer than in your One Direction days or shave it all off to be as smooth as our baby's bottom is going to be in a few months. You are a handsome man no matter what you do to your hair. I'm not with you because of your hair or lack thereof. I'm not even with you because of your sexual prowess, as talented as you are in that arena."

Perking up, his eyes light from within. "You think I'm talented at sex?"

Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I merely stare at him, pointing to my stomach with both pointer fingers. "A lady doesn't get pregnant in a month of sex with someone who isn't good at it. If I hadn't wanted to constantly climb you like a tree every time I saw you, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be in this condition now. But you're missing the point."

"But Anna, let's say you wanted to feel someone's wiry beard on your inner thighs...who would you go to? Me or..." He jerks his thumb towards the door. "My beard just doesn't compete with that."

Rising, I take Harry's hands in mine. "Your beard doesn't have to compete with anyone else's where I'm concerned. I'm perfectly happy with the choice I made – in my baby daddy and my boyfriend. Not that I exactly planned the baby daddy part. But you're still missing the point."

Closing his eyes, Harry leans his head back and blows out a puff of air. When he tilts his head down to look at me again, I spy fear in his eyes. "What's the point?"

"Simple, you numpty. I have agreed to be your girlfriend because you're funny and kind, and you take excellent care of me. All of me, if you know what I mean." Dropping his hands, I step into him, pressing my ear to his heart where I can hear the muscle pounding in his chest.