by Adams, S. C.
Mister Daddy
A Second Chance Secret Baby Romance
S.C. Adams
Copyright © 2019 by S.C. Adams
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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For my Readers
Also by S.C. Adams
Daddy to Go
Husband To Go
Size King
About This Book
It was one night. I made love to a huge, growly man with perfect lips. It was just a temporary fling because we met on a cruise – but now he’s given me his baby!
Abby’s not the kind of woman you jerk around. She’s sweet, giving, with a delectably curvy body that makes me forget how to swallow. She puts cover models to shame with her incredible smile and sassy ways. But I taught her some skills while we were on that cruise ship …
… skills that she’ll never forget.
Maybe I was her first, but they say the first time is always “safe,” right? You can’t get pregnant, especially with a girl who has no experience.
STUPID ME for believing that. Abby’s curves are irresistibly feminine, and when I find out she’s had my baby, I show up to claim my son for real. What the feisty girl doesn’t realize is that …
… I’m coming to claim her too!
Our hero is dominant, alpha af, and so mouthwateringly gorgeous that your toes will curl. Carter Jones is worth a billion dollars, and he knows exactly how to mark what’s HIS. Buckle your seatbelts for a wild ride and be sure to pack a life vest because this cruise is in for some choppy waters!
As always, my books contain an HEA with no cheating and no cliffhangers.
Contents
1. Abby
2. Abby
3. Carter
4. Carter
5. Abby
6. Carter
7. Abby
8. Abby
9. Carter
10. Abby
11. Carter
12. Abby
13. Abby
14. Abby
15. Abby
16. Carter
17. Carter
18. Abby
19. Abby
20. Carter
21. Abby
22. Carter
23. Abby
Epilogue
Sneak Peek: Daddy To Go
Sneak Peek: Husband To Go
About the Author
1
Abby
“Goodbye, Florida!” my best friend, Jessica, screams as the ship vibrates to life beneath our sandals. “See you in a week!”
The tiny blonde takes a long sip of her pineapple drink and attempts to drape an arm over my shoulder. She’s tipsy and too short, so she ends up clutching my waist to keep herself upright.
“Classy, Jessica,” our other friend, Caitlyn, snorts. “The cruise hasn’t even started yet, and you’re already sloppy drunk.”
“Hey,” Jessica objects. “I’m on vacation so gimme a break. I deserve to have a little fun!”
I roll my eyes. A little fun is exactly what I’m here for. Jessica and Caitlyn have been begging me to go on a cruise with them since they got back from their Mediterranean cruise last year. I made excuses left and right because honestly, I’m not into drunken carousing, although Italy does sound like a dream. But this January, my boss told me I had to take vacation time or I’d lose it. What? How can you lose vacation time? It seems unfair, since I slaved away alone in the office during Thanksgiving and Christmas with the specific purpose of saving up vacation time. Why was it going to disappear now?
But who knows how Human Resources works? The long and the short of it was that I either had to use my vacation or lose it forever. Framed that way, there was no question what my choice would be.
Helpfully, Jessica and Caitlyn overheard the conversation, since eavesdropping is their specialty, and figured this was the perfect opportunity to drag me onto a boat for a week.
“Come on,” wheedled Jess. “Seriously Abby, lighten up. I can practically see gray hairs already.”
I pulled at my curly brown strands.
“Well, I did notice that I had a gray hair in the back, but I’m surprised you can see it from the front,” I began.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes then.
“It’s just a saying, Abs,” she chimed in. “We don’t really see any gray hairs. Twenty-five is too young to turn all white. All Jess is saying is that you’re taking everything so seriously! I mean, this is a Caribbean cruise with hot men, island margaritas and a cool breeze over the mountains. Who knows? Maybe there will be a Keanu Reeves-lookalike on the boat and you’ll get lucky,” she winked.
I heaved a sigh. Arguing with my two best friends was pointless, even if I highly doubt that Keanu Reeves in any form was going to show himself on a gigantic cruise ship. But Caitlyn and Jess were right. I was behaving like a little old lady, when in reality, I should have been leaping to my feet with excitement.
So here I am, standing on a deck with a drunk and an almost-drunk, watching as our home state disappears. Jess and Cait are going crazy. For some reason, they brought leis in their baggage although we’re not headed to Hawaii, and draped them over their necks with big smiles.
“Are you going to say Aloha to everyone?” I asked with confusion, my brow crinkling.
Cait just rolled her eyes while taking another huge sip of a turquoise drink. If I looked closely, I could see a pineapple chunk bobbing around, but I swear, the drink was mostly alcohol with little to no fruit juice. It was probably at least thirty proof with just some apple juice splashed in as a sweetener.
“No silly, it’s just to get in the mood. Come on, you wear a lei too.”
I backed away, waving my hands.
“Oh no, I can’t. I’m not a lei person, and besides I have allergies!” Fortunately, at that very moment some pollen got into my nose and I let out a huge ah-choo!
But my friends were undeterred. Jess rummaged around in her luggage and popped back up with a sly smile and something even worse than a lei in her hand – a sparkly tiara.
“What is that?” I asked with terror in my voice.
“What do you think it is?” she said, tilting the headpiece so that the gemstones caught the light. “It’s a tiara. It’s beautiful isn’t it?”
The dazzle was so great that I swallowed, wincing a bit as the light caught my eye.
“I know it’s a tiara, but what’s it for?”
Jess let out a high-pitched laugh that frankly, scared me to the core.
“It’s for setting the mood, silly. In order to party hard, we need to get in the mood. Part of that is leis, tiaras, and who knows what else?” she asked with a sly smile. “I packed lots of junk in here that’s going to be very useful.”
I was horrified. What was in her bag? I was imagining all sorts of embarrassing things like feather boas and maybe even dildo-shaped straws.
“But we’re not at a bachelorette party,” I protested. “All that stuff is unnecessary.”
Both of my friends snorted.
“Unnecessary? Hardly. If anything, Abby, it’s very necessary because you can be such a stick in the mud sometimes. Now put the tiara on, otherwise we’re going to find something even more spectacular for you to wear.”
Now, I was really scared and e
yed Jess’s bag with apprehension. Visions of props danced in my head, from frilly pink tutus to a cape with the words “Old Maid No More” on it. I couldn’t risk it, and so with trembling hands, I set the tiara on my head.
“Does it look okay?” I managed in a weak voice. Both my friends whooped and crowed.
“It looks amazing, Abs. Now here’s your drink and let’s par-tayyyy!”
Oh god. I wasn’t looking forward to non-stop debauchery, but here we are now on a cruise to the Caribbean. We’ve just left port and are standing on the deck of the ship, waving to a crowd below. Who knows who’s in that crowd? I have no idea, but the cheers and claps make my friends look and feel like celebrities.
“Wee-hoo!” screams Jess.
“Wa-wee!” bellows Cait, not to be outdone.
I cringe internally. Oh my god, my friends can be so embarrassing sometimes with their outlandish cries and those flower leis too, don’t forget. But Cait and Jess are pretty twenty-somethings, and when you’re an attractive woman, you can get away with a lot. To my surprise, some of our fellow passengers also begin to bellow, and high fives are shared all around.
“Come on, Abs!” screams Cait. “Get into it!”
I let out my own small “Wee-hoo!” with a feeble smile and a small wave.
“Great work,” nods Jess, taking another sip of her drink. “We are ready to go!”
By now, the ship has pulled back from the port and the audience on the dock is nothing but mere glimmers. Not a moment too soon, if you ask me.
“So now what?” I ask Jessica. “We’re officially sailing so can I take this off?” I ask, pointing to the tiara. Fortunately, I have very curly hair, so my locks puff up around the small headpiece, semi-obscuring it. Hopefully, the other passengers don’t notice that I have rhinestones on my head.
But my friends are on a roll, and Jessica pumps her arms furiously up and down, like she’s doing a lift.
“We’ve only just begun!” She tries to sip her drink again, but the pineapple shell is empty. “I need a refill, and you need a drink.”
I try to make excuses.
“I don’t know, Jess. It’s pretty early.”
“Come on, Abby,” Caitlyn wheedles. “You’re on vacation, remember? Time doesn’t matter on a cruise ship.”
I think I read that in one of the hundreds of brochures the girls left on my desk over the last year, but I didn’t believe it until I boarded the ship at eleven this morning and found people already enjoying beachy cocktails. It is clear by the noise level that for most of them, the blended drinks in their hands aren’t their first. Or second, to be frank.
I follow the girls toward the closest bar, searching for an excuse to pass on joining in their alcoholic festivities, but Caitlyn thrusts a freshly blended strawberry daiquiri in my face. She knows it’s the one drink I can’t resist.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh. “But only because we’re on vacation.”
The two girls cheer. A gust of wind whips Caitlyn’s red hair into her face, causing her to sputter, which makes us all laugh. She pulls her curly locks into a messy ponytail and holds her piña colada up.
“To vacation!” she shrieks while doing a little shimmy with her backside. Behind us, a couple of girls we don’t know repeat the cheer and hold their glasses up to ours. Spinning around, we all clink our drinks together and take long, alcohol-filled sips. The rum burns my throat, but the sweetness of the frozen strawberries cuts through the awful taste.
“To friendship!” Caitlyn adds, taking another long sip of her drink.
The same group of strange girls cheer again. They look younger than us, probably having just barely turned twenty-one compared to our twenty-seven. But they seem relatively normal, and hey, part of a cruise is making new friends. I face the new girls and smile.
“Are you on a friendship cruise, too?” I ask.
A particularly pretty co-ed with a red-lipsticked mouth smiles at me.
“We didn’t call it that,” she says with a sweet southern accent, “but that sounds about right. We just graduated from college, so we thought, why not take a trip before real life starts?”
“Good call,” I say ruefully. “Hope you enjoy your vacation.”
“Thanks,” she says. “You girls, too!”
I drag Caitlyn and Jessica away from the bar before they can get themselves another drink. It’s still too early to be as drunk as my friends are, even if we are on vacation. At this rate, they’ll be down for the count by six, and I didn’t come on this trip to go to sleep while the sun is still high in the sky.
“I’m hungry. Let’s check out the buffet,” I suggest. Jessica pouts, but both girls follow me through the sliding glass doors into the cool deck buffet.
It seems like everyone on board had the same idea I did because most of the tables are full. We manage to snag a table with three chairs near the window and leave our bags on it to save our seats.
Caitlyn and Jessica go for salads, but I’m not about to miss the barbecue chicken I smell. I stand in line until it’s my turn and get two pieces fresh off the grill. I add some corn, slaw, and a couple slices of bread. It’s the kind of late spring meal I’d be having on my own at home if I weren’t here.
I sneak a bite of the chicken on my way back to the table and force down a groan. The food is amazing; it’s even better because I didn’t have to cook it myself. The 24/7 food service is part of what convinced me to come on this cruise in the first place.
On my way back to the table, I fill three quarters of a tall glass with lemonade and top it off with iced tea. If this is what it’s like every day, I might not want to leave when the cruise is over. But I won’t tell the girls that. They don’t need to know how much I’m loving this trip already.
My friends are already seated when I get back, but they’re not eating. Their eyes are glued out the window at where Florida’s coast is no longer visible. Only blue sky and the ocean waves lapping against the hull of the ship are to be seen.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I say, startling both of them.
“Amazing. Just wait until we get further out. The water is even bluer, if you can imagine that,” Caitlyn rhapsodizes.
I can’t really picture it, but I take their word for it. This is their second cruise, after all. Besides, I want to eat before my grilled chicken gets cold, so I dig in. The girls take the hint and start on their salads, too. They sneak longing glances at my carb-filled plate while eating their rabbit food.
I get why they need to eat healthy. Maintaining stick thin figures like theirs isn’t easy. But I could never live eating like them. I’m of the firm belief that food should taste good. Otherwise, what’s the point in existing? Some girls eat to live, but I live to eat, and I’m sticking by my motto.
When we’re done with our late lunch, an announcement comes over the ship that all staterooms are ready.
“Finally!” Caitlyn says an eye roll. “I need to change out of these clothes.”
I’m not sure what’s wrong with the short jean shorts and tank top she has on, but I wouldn’t mind freshening up a bit myself. My body smells like travel even though we all live within thirty minutes of the port. It’s the standing in line and security checks and brushing up against sweaty people that makes me feel gross.
Plus, the one good thing about Caitlyn and Jessica’s constant cruise pestering is that they booked our trip far in advance. As a result, we ended up with a room that has a sliding door in addition to a porthole, which is a luxury on a big ship like this. You can’t take anything for granted when there’s very little space.
Once we get inside the room, the first thing we do is open the cabin’s sliding glass door to let the salty sweet air infiltrate what is to be our living space for the next week.
Of course, our room itself is miniscule. There are actually four beds, but they’re arranged like bunks. Plus the two top ones are Murphy beds that are attached to the wall. The mattresses fall out when you pull a strap, and the thin filli
ng looks lumpy and uncomfortable. Between the two beds on the floor, there’s enough space for a book-sized side table, but no room to walk. Fortunately, there’s a tiny sofa in one corner, our only real amenity in this cabin.
Ship staff left our suitcases out in the hallway, so we drag them in and begin unpacking. We played rock-paper-scissors in the security line to decide who would sleep where. I lost, of course, so I have to settle for the bed closest to the door, but that’s okay. I don’t mind because honestly, the room is so small none of it really matters anyways.
“I need to wash first-day grime from my body,” Caitlyn announces. “Any takers for the bathroom, speak now or hold your peace for twenty minutes.”
“All yours, girly,” Jessica says.
“Go for it,” I chime.
Jessica and I unpack while Caitlyn showers. She finishes in record time, probably because she came fully waxed so she doesn’t have to shave. I wish I’d thought to do that, but waxing makes me nervous. It’s not the pain I’m worried about but the judgmental stares from the waxer as she works around my flabby thighs to get all the hard-to-reach spaces. I’ll stick with shaving in the privacy of my bathroom, thank you very much.
“You can go next if you want, Jess,” I offer.
“Thanks, babe. I’ll be quick.” My friend disappears into the rabbit hole they call a bathroom, whistling. But I know she’ll be fast because Jess is fully waxed, too. After all, my two friends went to the salon together and told me all about it when they were done in gruesome detail, which practically made tears come to my eyes. Pouring hot wax on your privates over and over again before ripping it off with no painkillers on hand? No, thank you. One more reason why I’ll stick with the privacy of my own bathroom and my own razor.