Billionaire Country. Silver James

      She gazed into Tucker’s face. He appeared only slightly panicked. “If you say so.”

      “I do. Just hang on.” His arm slipped around her shoulders. “We got this, remember?”

      And then the EMTs were there, bundling her onto a stretcher and moving her to the ambulance. They loaded her, and she saw Tucker standing outside, staring at her and looking as lost as she felt.

      “C’mon, Dad,” one EMT said, waving Tucker aboard. “I have the feeling the baby isn’t going to wait for an invitation. You need to be close.”

      Tucker climbed in and moved to crouch on the bench near Zoe’s head. The second EMT headed to the ambulance cab and in moments, they pulled out, lights blazing and sirens blaring.

      “I’m Ted,” the EMT said.

      “Zoe.”

      “I need to take a peek, Zoe, to see where we are in the process. Okay?”

      Tucker looked away as the EMT cut off her pants and checked. He gulped when the guy said, “Ah, darlin’? You need to stop pushing.”

      “Stop pushing?” Zoe yelled. “What in bloody blue blazes are you sayin’? This baby wants out!” She waved her left hand in Tucker’s direction.

      He grabbed it out of sheer instinct. She squeezed hard, grunted, then panted. She clutched his hand so tight, he lost feeling in his fingers. The EMT tsked a few times as he draped a thin cotton blanket over Zoe and fussed with getting monitoring equipment on her.

      “I don’t wanna do this,” Zoe wailed.

      “Little late for that, angel.” Tucker smoothed a tangle of hair off her face and wondered what it would feel like once the hairspray was washed out. Her face was pinched from pain and her eyes were fixed on him. He tried to smile but he wasn’t nearly as calm as he tried to project.

      A low moan escaped from between lips pressed tightly together and her shoulders came off the stretcher. “Gotta push,” she snarled between clenched teeth.

      “Just hang on, little momma. We’re almost there.” Ted lifted the blanket to check her again, his gaze bouncing to the monitoring equipment.

      “Aren’t you supposed to be doing some breathing or something?” Tucker wanted to distract her. He got a growl and a light punch in the arm for his efforts.

      “So not funny, you—” Whatever she meant to say was lost in another, more powerful groan.

      “Speed it up!” Ted yelled toward the cab of the ambulance. The ambulance accelerated.

      Tucker watched as the EMT muttered something and flipped the blanket up to Zoe’s knees and positioned himself between her legs. Moments later, Ted said, “Looks like we’re doing this anyway. Time to push, Zoe.”

      The contraction hit, and Zoe squeezed Tucker’s hand again as she bore down. He slipped an arm under her shoulders and gave her support as she pushed.

      It seemed like an hour before she went limp, leaning back into him as the EMT held something pink and squirming. Which then started screaming at earsplitting levels to rival the siren. Tucker barely had time to catch his breath before Ted was placing a naked bundle in Zoe’s arms.

      Tucker looked down at the tiny, scrunched-up face and felt his heart stop. He brushed a fingertip along the baby’s cheek and the child stopped crying. Able to breathe again, he marveled at the tiny thing, all thick dark hair and blue eyes. Part of him was stunned but another part was full of awe, and some emotion he couldn’t—nor did he want to—define. But his brain spun through the possibilities despite his best efforts. Protectiveness. A weird tenderness. Tucker figured in that moment that he was a goner. This kid would own him heart and soul if he didn’t guard against it.

      “Congrats, Mom and Dad. It’s a boy.”