Penny
Oh, this is divine, Penn." My aunt, Lucille, looks absolutely blissful as she takes a greedy sip of her lunchtime cocktail. "Your margaritas are better than mine, and I'm not sure yet how I feel about that."
With my own drink in hand, I round the counter and bump my shoulder into hers. "Well, I learned from the best, I must say." I give her a wink.
I am actively working on my winking.
She throws her head back and emits a throaty, carefree laugh. I loop my arm through hers and ignore the male attention we draw as I lead her to a booth in the far corner of the Frosty Pitcher. It's always like this—when Aunt Lucille is around, men of all ages stare. Usually, she'd be flirting up a storm, but today, all her attention is focused on me.
I called her this morning to discuss my single parenthood project and she closed up her beauty salon at lunchtime to be here with me—to talk about this face-to-face—because she's always had my back like that. Now, I'm sneaking away for a short unofficial lunch break with her.
Aunt Lucille is a beautiful woman, on the inside and out. She raised me like her very own child when my mother turned her back on me for higher pursuits. And no, my aunt isn't perfect. In fact, she's made some pretty epic mistakes that she's still making atonement for. But she's taught me everything I know about being a woman. She's the closest thing I've ever had to a real mom, and I love and respect her deeply.
She smiles softly at me, her blue eyes twinkling. "Sooo...Don't hold out on me. Tell me about this baby plan of yours." Her brows crinkle. "You're sure about this insemination thing?"
I suck in a breath. "I'm sure." There were some sketchy-looking pineapples and berries hanging around the bar's kitchen. I whipped up a fruit smoothie for myself as I prepare my body for the task of carrying a child. I draw my plastic straw through the thick drink. "Do you think I can do it on my own?" I've already made up my mind about becoming a mother but Aunt Lucille's opinion means so much to me. I’m hoping for her vote of confidence on this.
She nods vigorously but her blonde hair doesn't budge. It's been hairsprayed into submission. As Crescent Harbor's premiere esthetician, the woman takes her hairspray very seriously. "Of course you can do it, sweetheart."
When I glance across the room, my eyes make contact with a rugged-looking older dude with a dashing smile under a bushy moustache that matches his bushy chest hair. It's all like a matching set.
He gives me a grin, then darts his chin toward my aunt. I quickly snap my attention away. Nuh-uh, I'm not playing matchmaker. I'm still traumatized from the time Aunt Lucille seduced my math teacher. The man ended up blowing several paychecks on wining and dining her. Then, his car got repossessed and he ended up sleeping on his mother's couch.
I won't be complicit in this.
Aunt Lucille is immune to the man's flirtation. She puts all her attention on me. She lays her hand on mine. "The truth is, sometimes Prince Charming takes a while to show up. And that's okay. You've just gotta live your best life in the meantime. I raised you to be an independent woman and independent women don't mind taking things into their own hands. Hell, I did the single mother thing and I was a mess."
I snicker. "You weren't that bad."
"Girl, I was a mess. Remember when Iris was in preschool and I accidentally sent her to school with your backpack which meant you couldn't hand in your book report on time?" She shakes her head at the memory.
"Oh my gosh! Yes! I think that was the very first time I got detention in school." Through my laughter, I cringe. 'Cause even now, it still hurts. "Remember when you got so caught up in the makeup section at Walmart that you didn't even notice that Iris and I had snuck into McDonalds and were trying to order Happy Meals we couldn't pay for?"
She buries her face in her hands. "They put out a call for me over the PA system to come claim your cunning asses." We're both laughing hysterically. "Then, there was the time you were complaining of a tummy ache and I thought you were just trying to get out of having to go to school but really it was your first period on its way..."
Tears of hysteria fill my vision. "I got it all over my uniform and the kids were laughing at me. So Walker gave me his pants and went to his math class in his uniform shirt and boxers."
We're laughing our asses off.
Aunt Lucille shakes her head. "Wow. Most days, I was not the right woman for the job. It's a miracle you don't hate me to this day. I'm so sorry."
"Are you kidding me? You were the most fun, and I could tell you all my secrets without you getting mad. And you were super honest about the birds and the bees from the get-go." I take her hand. "You did your very best. And I am only moderately fucked up and maladjusted. So, I'll call that a win." She smiles softly.
Right then, one of the newer waiters comes up to our table, carrying a tray of piña coladas. "Hey Penn. That guy over there sent these over."
When I glance across the room, the dude from earlier is wearing a predatory grin, his attention focused on my aunt. Don't get me wrong, he's very handsome—albeit, a tiny bit creepy—but he wouldn't be able to handle Aunt Lucille. She would chew him up and spit him the fuck out.
"Oh, no. We're good," I say, politely declining the offer.
My aunt smiles graciously. "No, thank you, sweetheart." The waiter turns on his heel and walks away with the drinks.
I stir my smoothie with my straw. "Hey, look on the bright side, if you hadn't forgotten to pack my sandwich for that first grade field trip, Walker and I probably would have never become best friends."
"To silver linings!" She lifts her margarita to my fruit smoothie.
"To silver linings," I agree with a laugh.
Walker Kingston caught my attention the first day I walked into the Crescent Harbor Private Academy with my pigtails and my freckled cheeks to start kindergarten. He was four inches taller, two years older and one grade above me. Yet I marched right up to him and told him my name. Being the cranky asshole he’s always been, he just sort of squinted his eyes at me and slowly, slowly backed away. Throughout the rest of the school year, I maintained my attempts to crack his hard shell but none of my efforts worked. It wasn’t until a year later that things changed.
My very first museum field trip. I unzipped my lunch bag and there was nothing inside. Nothing. Aunt Lucille had forgotten to pack my food. I immediately burst into tears. My spoiled-rich classmates circled around me, pointing and laughing at my empty lunch kit.
I will never forget the sight of the crowd parting as Walker pushed his way through, the glares he shot around at the kids, right before he ripped his tuna sandwich down the middle and handed me a sloppy half. For months, I’d been invisible to him. Yet somehow, in a moment when I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole, Walker saw me. I felt like I'd been saved by my very own baby-faced Prince Charming. And that's what did it—the guy has had a piece of me ever since.
My aunt's expression goes solemn. "What's your mother saying about all this?"
Bringing my glass to my lips, I take a drink of my smoothie. "I don't know. She was busy when I called."
"She couldn't even take a minute to have a conversation with you about it?"
Wordlessly, I shake my head.
That brings compassion to my aunt's eyes. She knows how much my mother's distance hurts me. "After everything you sacrificed for her? After all the risks you took for her?"
Aunt Lucille still is not happy with the decision I made to donate a part of my liver to my mother. Patricia Merlini doesn’t deserve any parenting awards. And I'll admit that deep down I hoped that helping her would earn me a little bit of her attention. But still, she’s blood and she needed my help. I'd do it again.
It sucks that she probably wouldn't do the same for me.
But Walker was there for me, though. In the rough weeks and months following the procedure, he was there. Dropping off food every day, taking me to doctor's appointments, making sure my pain med prescriptions were filled.
"I'm sorry, Penny. I kn
ow how she is." She brushes her hand over mine again. "I can tell you this—you'll be amazing with your kid. Your own bastard mother? She thought that just because she was paying your tuition to that snooty, expensive-ass private school, that she was doing her part. But you know what's important. You know the value of love." She exhales.
Now, Chest Hair/Moustache Combo is hovering above our table, holding the margaritas from earlier. "Hello ladies..." He gives us a smile worthy of the Hollywood Golden Era. "I was thinking you two beauties might like—"
Visibly annoyed, Aunt Lucille throws up her palm like a stop sign in his face. "Look, dude—we don't need your little piña coladas. We're trying to plan an insemination over here. So, unless that's a cup of sperm in your hand, we're gonna need you to back off right about now."
The man blinks. He clears his throat. "Um...I'm just gonna take these back to the bar and maybe..." He spins on his heel.
When the man is gone, I break out laughing. "Well, that was kind of harsh."
"I don't have time for interruptions. I've got to be back at my salon in fifteen minutes for my next customer and our conversation is far from over." She shrugs unapologetically. "So, back to Walker...Are you sure you want to do this thing with him? Are you sure you want that man to be your baby daddy?"
That question is a bit more complicated. I fumble with my answer.
She cups my cheek and continues, "Honey, you know I adore him. And I know you adore him. But I'm worried about whether you'd be able to have that man's baby and not lose yourself to him completely. You've loved him forever. And now all of a sudden, you think you can undertake the most intimate act of your lifetime with him—making a baby—without falling even deeper in love?"
I swallow and press my eyes shut. "I know I can. I have to. There's no other option. I have to find a way."
13
Walker
I’m sitting in a small plastic chair next to Penny in the doctor’s office. I’m uncomfortable as shit. I tried telling her I could stay in the waiting room, but she insisted they’d want to talk to me. I’m no prude, but what kind of discussion needs to be had about me jizzing in a cup?
While we wait for the doc, Penny’s comparing the pamphlet from the front office to the websites she has bookmarked on her phone, rambling a thousand miles a minute as she points out the discrepancies to me. I nod and grunt in all the appropriate places, hoping the professionals will be able to put her mind at ease.
Or shit—maybe they’ll be able to talk her out of it entirely.
My shoulder muscles are knotted up like a French braid. The longer I sit here, the more real this all becomes, and it's making me nervous. My dad's words from the other day keep looping in my head. Hell, my brothers may have been joking around but they made some valid points, too. This thing I'm getting myself into is no game. Once Penny gets pregnant, there's no changing my mind. Suddenly, I'm not so sure how I feel about that.
The gynecologist bursts in with an apology about being behind this morning.
Penny introduces me to the doctor. He reaches for my hand and I try not to dwell on the fact that he basically goes around touching random vaginas all day.
I can't even believe that dumb shit crossed my mind. Yeah, I'm in a pretty foul mood right about now.
I swallow my annoyance and meet the doc with a glare, when he shakes my hand. Meanwhile, Penny? She's all smiles.
She pulls out her little notebook and her army of colored pens, and I know we're gonna be here for a while. She chats with the man so long I start to lose focus. She’s sure done her homework on this, and even the doc is impressed.
He turns to me, swiveling on his little stool, hands clasped in his lap. “Any questions from the donor?”
I turn and glance at Penny's beaming face. “Nope. All good,” I confirm with a single nod.
“Well, I do have some information I’m required to share, just to ensure we get on the same wavelength.” The man adjusts his glasses on his bulbous nose. "As you probably are aware, the male donor will provide freshly ejaculated sperm at the time of the procedure.”
I nod.
"Donor sperm collection is performed most commonly through masturbation, but if you're having a hard time 'getting there', we'd be glad to provide you with electrical stimulators.”
"What?" I furrow my brow, not understanding what he's saying.
He leans toward me and whispers. "A vibrator."
I blink and give a short head shake. “I’ll be fine without…that.”
The doctor smiles graciously. "No shame in it if you need a little assist—"
"I will be fine without that," I interrupt unapologetically.
Beside me, Penny snort-giggles and I'm tempted to toss her over my knee and give her the spanking she deserves for getting me all mixed up in this.
“Okay then." He adjusts his glasses and his composure. "As part of the procedure, the sperm will be washed in a laboratory and warmed to increase fertilization chances.”
What the heck? Wash? I’m not fucking dirty, and neither are my little guys.
“Most importantly, remember that the best sample is obtained when you abstain from ejaculating for at least three days before providing the sample.”
Abstain. Great. So, no doing what I did this morning in the shower after another long night of dirty dreams.
"Also, the clinic has several medical students who will be present to observe various aspects of the procedure. It's part of their medical training."
My eyes bulge in their sockets.
"Not the masturbation part, Walker. The other parts." The doctor chuckles low in his chest. I swear the man is taking pleasure in torturing me. I grunt.
The doctor lays out a few more instructions, giving me a five-page printout of everything he just covered. Then he hands over a prescription card for a bottle of vitamins to start taking immediately.
“You’ve got an important job ahead,” the doc adds solemnly. “Are you up for it?”
Christ, I want to say no. This is far more overwhelming than I anticipated. The research, the legal drama, the pills, and the entire fucking manual here. I expected to get an email with a day and time to provide my sample, and then my job would be done. I’d maybe even get to see the little booger whenever I hang out with Penn.
I'm having cold feet, dammit. I yank my collar away from my neck. I don't think I can do this...
I open my mouth to ask to speak privately with Penny, but when I turn to her, I spot that big, beautiful, perfect grin on her lips. My mouth snaps shut.
I can’t disappoint this woman.
She wants to be a mom. And I want her to be happy. More than anything. She deserves this, and I can help her. I can give her that much.
I sit up straighter, turning back to the doc. “Okay. I’m in.” I say it like I mean it.
Penny lets out a small squeal, throwing herself into my arms. With a chuckle, I catch her and hug her back. I breathe in her warm vanilla scent. I feel her soft curves fuse with my hard muscled chest.
“Thank you for helping me,” she whispers, her breath tickling my ear.
My anxiety settles, fading away. It’s replaced by a sense that this will all be worth it.
Having Penny smile at me like this, feeling her embrace…I’d be her baby daddy a million times over.
14
Penny
Real talk—how attached are you to this whole roadkill moose taxidermy vibe you've got going on over here by the mantle?" I glance over my shoulder at Walker when he opens the front door. "'Cause honestly, I think it's dragging down the aesthetic of the room."
With my bartending job and all the prep for my insemination, I've had to work extra hard to squeeze in my design gigs. This week alone, Cannon hired me to spend a few days selecting furniture for some office suites Kingston Realties is looking to rent out. Then, I got a small home decorating job through one of Lexi's acquaintances. She also hooked me up with a long-distance mentorship with Dahlia Windsor, the big-time Manhatt
an interior design guru who re-designed Lexi’s bridal shop last year. Plus, I booked a few gigs, window-dressing some of the boutique storefronts running along Promenade Boulevard.
Anyway, this is the job I've been waiting for. Today, I'm finally having my initial design consultation with Walker at his tiny, one-bedroom hunting cabin. I'm in full-on business mode. Blazer. Pencil skirt. Sleek bun.
There are shoulder pads involved.
Walker views me as his friend. But I want to impress him. So I'll go above and beyond to prove my capabilities as an interior design professional.
He kicks off his work boots on the front mat and hangs his cowboy hat on a hook before striding across the room to me.
Jeez—do you see that walk? That's the wide stance of a man who's gotta leave thigh space for his massive dick to swing free. I just know it.
There are a lot of things about Walker Kingston that make me all fluttery in the stomach. The way his honey brown eyes darken dangerously when his thick eyebrows pull into a frown like rainclouds. The way he scrubs those thick, long fingers along the back of his neck when he gets frustrated. The way his beard goes caveman chic quick-fast in between shaves. But it's his walk that really does me in. That broad-shouldered, wide-stanced, Superman-stride always makes me weak in the knees. And his Wrangler jeans are the things that cowboy crushes are made of.
I make a conscious effort to keep it professional. We stand side by side in front of his fireplace, contemplating the intimidating rounded snout mounted on his living room wall. Usually, I'm pretty adventurous with my designs but I don't think I can make the moose head work.
Walker responds with an aloof shoulder shrug and a tilt of his head. Pretty much the same response he's given to every suggestion I've made since the beginning of this meeting. He didn’t even flinch when I proposed that we get rid of his beloved pool table.
"Are you sure you don't mind saying goodbye to your antlered friend?" I grin at him.
Mister Baby Daddy (Bad Boys in Love Book 3) Page 8