by Taryn Quinn
Not that I was looking for him, exactly. That would be foolish. I had an inbox full of prospects, not to mention my voicemails and in-person offers. I’d probably need an agent soon. Wonder where I’d find one willing to help me on my quest?
Woman of reproductive age seeking representation in screening candidates with ready sperm. Personal traits of sperm-owner negotiable. Willingness to try a few new positions while making transfer a bonus.
I let out a giggle. Yeah, probably wouldn’t be finding too many takers for that role anytime soon.
“Seeing a beautiful lady laughing definitely makes my day that much better.”
For a second, irrational hope bloomed in my chest that maybe Murphy had changed his voice and his personality and had decided to speak freely for a change.
Not that we never talked. We did. Just not much and not often.
I wasn’t sure why I was so determined to hear him string more than a few sentences together in my direction. Maybe it was because I could tell he was the kind of man who read books and thought important things and would never make fun of me for wanting to have a baby on my own.
He’d think my method of trying to find a guy was ridiculous, of course. Because he was classier than that, and maybe a little old-fashioned to boot. He would never have to worry about such a thing even if he had a mind to procreate, since I always caught chicks checking him out when he was busy poring over the muffin selection or probably reading about some vitally crucial trade deal on his phone.
But it wasn’t Murphy speaking to me. It was Lucky from Gideon’s construction team, and though I’d seen him come in with Murphy a few times, I didn’t know if they were friends. Murphy was a solitary sort. I didn’t know why that appealed to me too.
He didn’t check any of my usual boxes, yet he intrigued me more than anyone had in a very long time.
And Lucky was waiting for a reply.
“Thanks. I’m not beautiful—” I didn’t get the sentence out before he leaned forward and placed his finger over my mouth.
“Don’t argue with me, beautiful. Now what kind of delectable treats are you making in your secret oven?” Lucky grinned, and I wondered if I’d ever heard anyone use an appliance as a sexual euphemism before. But I was pretty sure he was.
The bell dinged over the door and my gaze cut that way, probably because I was seeking escape. I liked Lucky. He seemed nice enough, if a little cocky. He was good looking, and he knew it, which unfortunately lessened his appeal.
And none of that really mattered right now. Murphy stepped through the door, his eyes narrowing on me and Lucky. He’d focused right in on us as if his vision was a laser and we were his target.
“Vee?” Lucky prompted, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. Then his smile widened. “Should’ve known. I’ll just leave the lovebirds alone.” He held up his hands palms out while I frowned at him. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, especially when the writing is on the wall.” His grin flashed and my frown grew.
Was he the guy I’d been talking to online? Well, the one I’d paid the most attention to. It wasn’t as if Cabin Fortress was the only man who’d sent a nice note. There had a been a few. Unfortunately, there were far more of the dirty kind—and not even creatively dirty. Just garden variety unfunny crudeness, mixed with a couple of dick pics.
Even those hadn’t been worth my time. I wasn’t into looking at penises as a rule, except on the occasional night when my rich fantasy life didn’t get the, ah, job done. Still, the ones that had landed in my in bin had been more snort-worthy than arousing.
“Writing on the wall? What writing is that?”
C’mon, give me another hint it’s you I’ve been talking to.
Though strangely, disappointment churned low in my belly at the possibility. Lucky was a fun guy. Even hot. But he wasn’t—
The café door opened again and I forgot what I’d asked as a familiar blond walked in. I started to smile at Sage until she let out an inhuman squeal and threw herself at Murphy.
I expected him to gently set her back. Murphy didn’t do public displays of affection like that, or at least I assumed he didn’t. Instead, he picked her up straight off her feet, wrapping her in a giant bear hug that made me curl my toes into my ballerina flats and my hands into fists.
Since I was still gripping my frosting tube in one hand, that was not good.
A stream of baby pink frosting shot out of the tip and made a beeline right for Lucky’s deep green shirt.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I gasped, making a couple of the town biddies look up in shock and irritation from where their book club was discussing their latest choice in the reading nook.
If it was Christian Grey-related as I thought I’d heard as I was refilling their drink orders, they shouldn’t have been so dismayed by the word fuck.
“Easy there,” Lucky said as I grabbed his shirt and attacked the splatter of frosting with a napkin. A dry one. “Think you’re gonna rub a hole right through to my six-pack, beautiful.”
I kept rubbing, though I paused long enough to turn to the sink for some water before I resumed my fruitless efforts. Now he had a giant wet spot too.
And Murphy was still embracing Sage, who was pressing her hands against his chest and smiling up at him with rapt attention while he spoke.
Unless he was offering her the best deal ever on a new addition for her house—not that she needed a good deal, she’d married a dude made of freaking money—I was probably going to burst a blood vessel.
But since I didn’t know what he was offering her, I just kept rubbing Lucky’s shirt. Hard enough to rip my napkin and not help the spot at all.
“Hey there, it’ll need some kind of cleanser to remove it.” Lucky sighed when I didn’t pause. “Yeah, okay, you do what makes you happy.”
“Vee, I need a coffee and to get back to work,” Mrs. Buck said from behind Lucky in line.
“Looks like she’s trying to set up that babymaking right here,” someone else muttered.
I ignored them all. My attention was focused on destroying the fibers of Lucky’s shirt while I watched Sage and Murphy chat like best friends out of the corner of my eye.
Now she was showing him baby pictures, unfolding a long string of them contained in plastic that resembled a fold-out credit card holder. He was smiling and pointing to different ones, listening intently as she rambled on.
I’d always liked Sage. A lot, in fact. Sure, I was a wee bit envious that her big problem in life now was having so much sex with her gorgeous husband that she had to continuously worry about having an unplanned baby, but them’s were the breaks. She was a great woman and I was happy for her that she’d found love.
What I wasn’t happy about was that she’d also discovered extreme buddydom with Murphy. Mainly because watching the two of them chatting felt as if Sage had been granted the keys to a city I had barely even located on the map, never mind explored.
God, why was I so…well, obsessed with Murphy now? I’d always thought he was a sweet guy, but this was bordering on foolish.
And I was about to tear a hole in Lucky’s shirt with my incessant scrubbing with my holey napkin and like three drops of water.
Dear God.
I jumped back and shook my head. Lucky’s green shirt now had a huge blot of water on it and little brown pieces of napkin had stuck to the material. “Dammit, I’m so sorry.”
“No harm, no foul, beautiful. Wonder what they’re talking about, huh?” Lucky leaned on the counter, clearly unconcerned that he looked like he’d just spilled a drink on himself. “My guess is it’s about that baby of hers. This town is all about babies. Why do you think that is?”
“Wrong person to ask, Luckmeister.” I smiled tightly and tossed the wadded-up napkin into the trash. “Did you forget I’m the town’s poster child for wanting a baby? And without a man, no less.” I pretended to smack my cheeks. “How dare I?”
Lucky barely blinked. “Well, can’t say it’s without a man, now c
an you?” His smile was slow and did not elicit the butterflies in me he was probably hoping for. “I wouldn’t be opposed to—”
“Hey there, Vee.” Sage popped up beside Lucky at the counter and clasped her hands over her heart. “So sorry to cut the line, but Moose and I are parched, and this guy seems to be hogging all your attention.” Sage elbowed Lucky hard enough to make him grunt. And move aside. “Just a couple of tall coffees, pretty please?”
I sent Sage a grateful glance for interrupting whatever Lucky had been about to say, then I made the mistake of looking at Murphy. He was staring at the back of Sage’s head as if her bouncy blond curls held the answer to world peace.
“We’re out of coffee.” I smiled at Sage. When her perfectly cheerful face fell, I let out a forced laugh. “Just kidding. Anything for you and Moose,” I enunciated carefully.
Finally, he looked up and met my gaze. For a second, just one, his perceptive light brown eyes burned into mine and my heartbeat raced. His lips parted, and I swore he was about to say something profound. Like…
I don’t care about Sage’s baby. I want to make a baby with you. Let’s start right here. Right now. Who needs a bearskin rug when there’s a rug shaped like a pair of eyeglasses in front of the fireplace in the reading nook?
Instead, he let out a dry cough. “Thank you, Veronica.”
Blah. So much for significance.
“No problem,” I said brightly, turning to fix their coffees the way I knew they liked them. “I live to serve.”
“If so, why don’t you serve some of us back here?” Mrs. Buck called out. “Tired of the favoritism, just because he’s the size of a redwood tree. They both are. Pushy males.”
I looked over my shoulder at Lucky, who wore a shit-eating grin and had tucked his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. He was now chatting with Sage, who’d again whipped out her baby pictures. Behind them, Murphy was flushed right up to his eyebrows.
He was so cute. Mrs. Buck? Not so much.
“Pipe down back there, or we might run out of coffee,” I called, tacking on a little laugh to show them I was joking.
I was not. There was no call for making comments about Murphy. His redwood size had given me more than a few aroused moments, thank you very much.
Macy swung out of the back with Jodi and cocked a brow at me as she noticed the line. She’d also probably heard my not-so-funny comment. “You doing okay out here?”
“Sure thing. Afternoon lull.” I finished making Murphy’s and Sage’s coffees and slid them across the counter to them.
I needed to make up for my jealous thoughts. I was not that girl. It wasn’t Murphy’s fault I wanted to scale his bark like a hungry lizard. Nor was it Sage’s fault she was naturally friendly and had a gorgeous baby girl and a husband with such an obviously gifted sperm delivery system that she was constantly worried about eluding it.
It was time I settled my karmic debt by doing a good deed.
“On the house,” I added.
Macy groaned behind me. “Why, is she pregnant too? Isn’t there a waiting period for this crap? At least get one off the teat before you shoot out the next.” Macy spoke low enough that only I could hear, then she put on an apron and moved to the counter. Her expression resembled that of a warrior entering battle as she faced the restless coffee-seeking heathens. “Who’s next?”
I turned away from the counter and flicked off my apron before grabbing my phone and heading into the break room.
Maybe I’d never have a chance with Murphy, but I had my online mystery man to keep me entertained if nothing else.
If he ended up knocking me up, bully for me.
I didn’t need a real relationship or love or a man in my life longer than the hour it took me to mount him—assuming I was blessed enough to manage to get lucky on the first round.
But not with Lucky.
I shuddered and opened my inbox. Please don’t let him be my mystery man.
Though if it was him, he was far sweeter online than he seemed in person. It couldn’t be him, not with Cabin Fortress’s manners. He had an almost old-fashioned nature mixed with a healthy dose of seductiveness at unexpected times.
I opened Cabin Fortress’s latest email and grinned. Nope. This wasn’t Lucky.
I was almost possibly maybe sure of it.
Five
Murphy
Cabin Fortress,
I have questions. You said you’re interested but I’d like to clarify what lies behind your manners, if I may. Do you mean you’d like to go on a date before we get down to business? Some friendly conversation, some dinner, maybe some dancing first? Or would you prefer right into the sweaty sheets without anything else? I’m fine with either, but I’m curious about your preferences. Hope we talk soon.
Vee
I paced the length of my living room, my triple screen work station taunting me from the far side of the room. Moonlight spilled through the wall of windows and the view that usually calmed me left me itchy in my own damn skin.
I’d been staring at the same reply for hours now. On my phone, then on my television-sized monitor that I should be working on. I had my preliminary notes back from Nelson, my contact at GameSoft. Only I couldn’t concentrate on the thousands of lines of code.
Nope, it was the seven sentences that had my brain reeling and my body way overheated. Then again it was still fucking hot as hades at eleven in the evening. The vaulted ceilings of my A-frame cabin usually kept things pretty cool. Add in the lazy fans buzzing above me and things should have been copacetic in my life.
Again, that was a big ole nope.
I crossed to my wine fridge and unearthed a Malbec. I needed to chill the fuck out.
This woman was making me nuts and she didn’t have a damn clue I existed.
Story of my life.
The slightly flirty tone under a veneer of politeness told me she thought it was a stranger. And okay, so we were near strangers. A few mumbled words between coffee and food orders did not make a friendship.
Because I was a moron and couldn’t get up the nerve to actually speak to her.
Where the hell was my electric corkscrew?
“Christ,” I muttered as I dug through my drawers. My older brothers had been here for the first football games of the season. The wall projector was too much of a draw when they wanted to go over each and every play with the newest coach for the Giants.
Me? I didn’t give a crap. I enjoyed football enough to let my idiot brothers come over, but I’d rather watch a movie all things considered.
But as usual, they’d ransacked my kitchen. And my wine bar since they’d finished off the beer. And I hadn’t replenished. At least they’d left me one bottle.
I found my manual corkscrew and frustration notched up with each twist. Too much frustration evidently, since I shredded the cork into the wine.
I poured half the bottle into a wide glass and picked out the shrapnel of cork. I didn’t even let it breathe. All the things I’d been taught when I toured the Andreas winery a few months ago went right out the window. But damn if they didn’t make a helluva wine.
With two long pulls, the warmth curled up from my empty belly and splashed through my veins. I pressed my hand to the window and tried to center myself with my favorite view. Moonlight shimmering off the lake was exactly why I’d built my house here.
The half-empty glass hung from my fingers as I cooled my forehead on the glass. The alcohol was definitely doing its job. Enough that maybe, just maybe, I could figure out a way to write back to Veronica.
Everyone called her Vee, but to me she fit her full name. Just as she was the only person on this earth who had used my given name since my school days.
But right now, she didn’t know the man behind the messages was Murphy Masterson.
I was as nameless and solitary as the handle I’d used for my email.
What I’d named my company.
I didn’t hide my name, but I certainly didn’t advertise th
at I was behind the LLC. It was just easier in the gaming world to have a few layers with so much theft of code and dark web sales. I could protect myself well enough without going to felonious levels like some of my compatriots.
I padded on bare feet to the bottle of wine and refilled my glass before heading to my work station. I set the glass down between my ergonomic split keyboard. There had been some nights when I’d put a thirty-ounce cold brew coffee right there to get work done. To talk to Veronica, I might need the same size wine glass.
“Liquid courage, don’t steer me wrong.”
I opened my browser and found her email again.
Normally, I used an email program, but I didn’t want anything tracking back to me right now. I tapped my lip with my wine glass as I read her letter one more time.
Did I want to keep my manners?
Did I want to slide into that flirty banter she was looking for?
That I saw her use with Lucky today. Well, maybe. I wasn’t really sure if she’d flirted with him. But they’d been chatting and he’d definitely been in his flirt mode.
My fingers tightened on the fragile stem of my glass. No, I couldn’t go there.
Not tonight. I’d do something I regretted.
I set my glass down. Like follow the rabbit hole of that green light next to her name that meant she was online right now.
That kind of regret.
My finger hovered over my track pad. Who needed to formulate a reply when there was a chat window available as part of this email client?
And she was right there.
Cabin Fortress: Is it too forward to break into your evening with a chat window? Or would you prefer the man with manners?
My cursor slowly blinked at me without a response.
I sat back in my chair, resting my glass on my stomach as I stared a hole into the middle screen of my trio of screens. A line of code was still working on the left screen and the right was a series of different projects I was monitoring.
The center was all for her.