“You’ve got a sweetheart now, Uncle Walker! And she's making a baby.” The words burst out of her lips, like they’ve been barricaded by her feeble self-restraint for hours.
I hate to disappoint her but I don’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. I have no guarantees that Penny will ever feel the way I feel. “Nah, kiddo. Penny’s not my sweetheart. She’s just my friend.”
The child’s face drops at my announcement. Her shoulders sag with disappointment. “Oh…okay…” Her attention returns to her masterpiece and with a red crayon, she draws a big ass X across my face.
Shit. Savage.
Penny emerges from the bathroom, her hands cradling her little belly as she whispers comforting words to the baby beneath her breath. My soul swells with longing as I watch her.
I glance back at Callie’s drawing. I feel that big ass X slicing through my heart like a sword.
37
Walker
I’m nursing a beer I don’t really want. I take another small sip, cringing as the lukewarm liquid hits my throat. I’ve been sitting here at the bar watching Penny so long that my once ice cold beer is now disgustingly warm.
She may work here at least five nights a week—she has for years—but now I feel the need to keep an eye on her. I don’t think she’s told many people about the pregnancy. Some folks are aware, but it hasn’t spread like wildfire through the local gossip mill yet. Plus, her fancy blouse is obscuring her baby bump. That actually makes me a little nervous. With drunk idiots stumbling all over the bar, you never know what could happen. I’m just here to make sure she’s safe.
Penn returns from dropping off drinks at an older couple’s table. She’s working extra hard since her boss isn’t here and there’s only one waitress on the floor tonight. The other girl scheduled didn’t show up and by the time Penny realized she wouldn’t be coming in, it was too late to get someone else to replace her.
As Penny wipes down the smooth bartop, she takes an order from a douche a few stools down from me. The idiot’s eyes drop to her cleavage, which is almost spilling over the neckline of her top. I swear, her tits have blown up overnight. Apparently, all these assholes have noticed, too. My jaw clenches.
She draws closer to me, where I sit in the middle. I may have strategically nabbed a stool right in front of the beer taps, where she visits most often throughout the night. As she fills a talls glass, I act completely riveted by the game playing on the flatscreen above the bar, while simultaneously pretending to drink this damn beer.
Still, I feel her knowing eyes on me. She sees through my bullshit. “I’m fine, Walker. Do you plan on being my helicopter mom throughout the rest of my pregnancy?”
I huff. Damn. I know I’m not that obvious.
But then again, Penn just always gets me. It’s as sweet as it is annoying.
I shrug, a smirk on my lips. “What? I’m just a patron having a beer. Is this really how you treat your customers? And to think, I was gonna tip you real well.”
The pretty girl rolls her eyes, but even she can’t fight the smile that’s teasing her full lips.
We continue to pretend I’m not bullshitting her as I enjoy watching her work. I may not be psyched about her being pregnant in a bar, but she mixes a drink like no other. And people love her, too. Though I’m starting to see that’s a double edged sword.
Too many people love her. Too many fucking assholes.
Some young idiot comes up behind me, having the balls to rest his sweaty arm on my shoulder as he places his order at the bar. I fling my arm, forcing his to fall off me. I shoot him a glare. What the fuck? I’m not your wing man. I say it with my glare. Lucky for him, the dude immediately gets the message and backs up out of my space.
“Hey, Big Red,” he calls out. Penn comes over and takes his order, while he hits on her without an ounce of shame.
She hurriedly gets his drink, obviously annoyed by the guy’s aggressive attention.
“Looking mighty good tonight, Red. I’ll come find you for another round here soon,” the asshole says, winking at Penn.
“You do that, honey,” she replies in a saccharine tone, her voice giving every man within a twenty foot radius a hard-on.
The waitress on duty approaches to tell Penny she’s taking her 15-minute break. Penny promises that she’s got the floor covered.
She’s positively glowing. I don’t know if it’s just the pregnancy or what, but Penny has never been quite so appealing. She’s always been beautiful, but right now? This woman is carrying my child and that officially makes her the sexiest woman to ever walk this planet.
More and more, I’ve been dying to claim her, to finally hear her say she’s mine. Since Penny moved into the cabin, there have been lingering glances, electric touches but nothing more than that. I’m so conflicted over whether I should make my move or just leave things as they are, just accept that we’re only friends.
I’m going crazy, trying to figure out what to do. We have a contract, after all. A contract where I promised to keep my nose out of her life.
I groan, scrubbing my hand down my face.
“You good?” Penn asks, grinning my way.
“I’m good,” I mumble.
“Want another one? A colder one?” She nods at my nearly full beer.
“Fine.” I don’t. But I guess if I’m going to sit here and stew, I might as well sip on something cold. Maybe it’ll cool me the hell off, before I lose it.
I’m trying really hard to keep a level head about this. I’m trying to keep a level head about every guy who comes into the bar and hits on Penn.
I’m not jealous. That’s not what this is. I’m just trying to make sure these assholes don’t disrespect the woman. I’m trying to draw that fine line between protecting her and allowing her the independence that has always meant so much to her.
My gut hardens when that jackass from earlier calls out to her. Nothing but trouble can come from a guy like that. I got a bad feeling about him the second he stepped up to the bar. Now, he’s sitting at a hightop table across the room, gesturing her over.
I watch her stiffen slightly. She’s irritated—I can tell, and I don’t like it—but she schools her expression well.
A few minutes later, she’s striding across the room to deliver two mugs of beer to him. What a loser. Who orders two fucking beers at the same time?
My mouth clenches, and I carefully breathe through my nose, watching as the stranger grins and slithers into her personal space. She tries to play it off, taking a tiny step back. I know she has experience with handsy, drunk losers. But I don’t feel right about this. The guy is huge. And Penny’s carrying my baby.
Despite what that stupid contract says.
My knee bounces, as I struggle to stay in my seat. My fingers curl into my hands, over and over, as I make a genuine effort to give her space.
I’m trying, Penn. I’m fucking trying here.
It all happens so fast. The asshole slides his big tattooed paw up Penny’s thigh until he’s gripping her ass. She’s politely pushing the man’s hand away but then he wraps his tree-trunk arm around her waist, yanking her body flush against the side of his. He’s not gentle about it, either.
No fucking way.
All sense of reason flies out the door. I’m already in motion. My stool teeters then crashes to the floor when I fly out of it. The only thing on my mind right now is protecting what’s mine.
I storm across the bar, until I’m centimeters from this tatted up wannabe. “Remove your hand from the lady,” I growl.
The guy laughs, eyes flicking to mine with disinterest. “Get out of here, cowboy. The pretty girl wants this.” He rises to his feet, puffing out his chest like this is some mating ritual.
By now, Penny has backed up, thank God. She’s partially standing behind me, but pulling on my left arm, trying to get me back to the bartop. Trying to protect me, no doubt. Silly woman.
I stand a little taller. Someone has to teach this guy a lesson. He ca
n’t get away with going around molesting innocent women. Especially not mine.
“I’m telling you one last time,” I grit between closed teeth, “You’ll need to keep your mitts off the lady.” I step forward, bumping into the giant with my own chest. “Real women aren’t into the whole macho douche cloth thing.”
At that, the prick snarls, shoving me. I lose it. With my left hand guarding Penny to make sure she doesn’t do something dumb, like trying to step in, I snap my right fist into this giant’s face.
One punch, one satisfying crunch of a nose, and a whole lot of blood.
The big guy slumps back and lands sideways, draped across his barstool like a wet bath towel. The man holds his nose, groaning.
My arm curls around Penny’s waist, my palm splayed protectively on her budding baby bump, and I guide her out of harm’s way.
I snarl. That’s what happens when you mess with a cowboy’s girl.
38
Penny
Shaking out my tingling fingers, I exit the employee change room and head in the direction of the admin office. A Carrie Underwood tune echoes throughout the almost empty building.
Tonight’s bartending shift is set to start in a half hour, but my boss, Cliff, left a voice message for me to come in a little early this evening. I’m not exactly sure what he wants to discuss, but I have a feeling it has to do with the fight.
The Frosty Pitcher is the most popular bar in town and Cliff hates it whenever drama finds its way in through the front door. Thankfully, the troublemaking douchebag from last night decided to take his beatdown quietly. He’s too damn vain to press charges against Walker at the risk of coming across as a softie.
I knock on Cliff’s dented-in door, opening it when I hear a muffled invitation from within. My boss looks tired, beat down, as he sits behind his paper-covered desk. It’s a mess, as always. Cliff’s not the most organized businessman which is precisely why he caved a few months ago and made me assistant manager of the place to handle some of the administrative tasks.
“Hey, boss,” I chirp, dropping into the cracked leather chair opposite his desk. I’m wearing a glittery off-the-shoulder top with leggings tonight. My bump is becoming more apparent and after yesterday’s events, the last thing I want is to draw unwanted attention to my body, attention that could put my baby at risk. Hence the loose-fitting outfit.
Cliff leans back and requests my version of what led to the fight. I lay it all out for him.
When I’m done, he exhales heavily, giving me a grim smile. “Look, Penny. I don’t blame you at all for what happened. And I sure as hell don’t blame your boyfriend because if my girl was pregnant and someone tried manhandling her, I would have beat the bastard so bad that—”
“Walker isn’t my boyfriend.” I feel the need to clarify. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea. For Walker’s sake.
I know what our situation must look like to outsiders—after all, he got me pregnant and I’m living in his house—but my friend made it clear that he doesn’t want to be a father. It’s not fair for the gossips around town to take it upon themselves to reframe our situation.
Cliff shakes his head. “Right. Right. He’s your ‘baby daddy’.” He draws air-quotes around the word. My eyes bulge. “I overheard some of the girls talking about it the other day,” he explains. He drops his head and shakes it, then mutters under his breath. “Fucking millennials. You complicate your lives for no reason.”
I feel a heated blush invade my cheeks. I don’t really expect people to understand.
Walker is not my man. He never will be. The moment I got pregnant, the chance for a happy-ever-after with him was permanently shoved off the table. Walker only sees me as the friend he’s been bailing out of trouble since forever. And continuing to pine away after him right now would be nothing but a distraction. All of my focus needs to be on this pregnancy.
But when he goes around knocking bastards out cold to defend me, I can’t help the tiny spark of hope that comes alive inside me. There’s a little voice in my head screaming, Penny, he punched a guy to protect you. If that doesn’t mean he loves you, I don’t know what does. I need to figure out how to turn that voice off.
“My point is,” Cliff carries on. “I think you know as well as I do, this environment…well, it’s not appropriate for a pregnant chick—err—I mean, lady. It’s not appropriate for a pregnant lady,” he corrects, his tone cautious.
A snort-laugh gets caught in my sinuses. I can’t help it. Although I couldn’t agree with him more, seeing Cliff try to be all politically correct—seeing this oversized guy, with his long, graying beard become all flustered and red and tongue-tied—it’s pretty entertaining. Even if it looks like the man is trying to fire me.
I woke up this morning with every intention of handing in my two weeks’ notice today. But now that Cliff appears to be on the verge of kicking my butt to the curb, I hold my tongue just to see how this conversation plays out.
“Look,” Cliff tries again. “I’m just trying to do the right thing without getting my ass sued for gender discrimination or something. That whole Pregnancy Discrimination Act makes me queasy enough to chug a case of Pepto Bismal.”
I shrug. “Well, women don’t have enough rights in the workplace, that’s for damn sure, but we do have that.”
And lucky girls like me have big, burly farmers who fly into an overprotective fit at the first sign of trouble.
Maybe Walker did overreact last night but I can’t even be mad about what he did. I’m independent and I don’t like being thrust into the role of the distressed damsel but the truth is, I needed him yesterday. I can push my pride aside and admit that. If he hadn’t knocked that dude out cold, I don’t want to imagine what might have happened next.
I was already trying everything in my arsenal of tricks to defuse the situation politely and distance myself from the guy. When the asshole yanked me around like a rag doll, insisting that I have a beer with him, my heart leapt into my throat. I panicked. Not for me, but for my baby.
I like to think that I’ve earned a self-taught PhD in dealing with drunk jackasses in all the years I’ve worked here. But last night, I was scared—actually scared—for my wellbeing. I can’t remember the last time that happened.
Things are different now. I have more than just myself to think about. I have a child growing inside of me. I can’t risk my safety, not where my baby is concerned.
I did a lot of soul-searching while I tossed and turned in bed. I came to a decision. A tough one. I’ve got to get out of this place. I need the money but my future baby’s wellbeing comes above all else. I’ve dreamed about being a mom for too long to take this potential danger lightly.
Cliff scratches his head. “I don’t imagine you were planning to stick around here after the baby comes, were you?”
Welp! I guess the boss overheard my coworkers gossiping about my interior design aspirations, too, huh?!
“Yeah, I was hoping to have my business up and running by the time I give birth,” I tell him honestly.
He nods for a long moment, running his hand down the long, chest length beard and pulling on the ends.
Then he snaps his fingers. “Okay, Penny. How about this? What if I continue your regular pay—and what you’d typically get in tips—until your baby comes? In exchange, you’ll continue your admin work until I replace you and you can fancy the place up a bit, make it look nice since I hear you’re into this whole decorating thing now? If I do that, would you consider resigning?” He puts up a hand and rushes out. “I don’t want to get in legal trouble here. But I do want to be fair. You’ve been a mighty big help around here for a long time but at this point, I just don’t want you out on the floor with those rowdy crowds.”
I mull it over quickly. I guess I don’t see any downside to Cliff’s offer. I was already planning to quit bartending. This seems like a smooth way to make a graceful exit. Especially since I’m still getting paid and I’m getting a decorating job out of it.
“Sure. Yeah, I can do that. I think that’s more than fair, Cliff.” I chew on the inside of my lip so my smile doesn’t give my enthusiasm away.
My soon-to-be ex-boss sighs with relief. “Good.” The man grabs a sheet of paper from the overflowing recycle bin and scribbles out our agreed-upon details in his illegible chicken scratch.
We both sign the paperwork that probably wouldn’t hold up in any legitimate court of law. But my heart is singing a sweet song of relief so I don’t even care. I snap a picture of our impromptu contract with my phone and Cliff tucks the original into a drawer where he’ll probably never be able to find it anyway.
He walks me out the bar, all the way to the parking lot, and reaches his hand out to shake mine. “Let me know if you ever need anything?”
I ignore his hand and wrap my arms around him in a friendly hug instead. A handshake after all these years of working together? Doesn’t seem right.
“Oh!” he laughs, his weathered cheeks reddening harshly. “Well, okay then.” He pats me on the back awkwardly, apparently still terrified of potential lawsuits and not wanting to touch me. “You…you get out of here now. Before you get me in trouble.”
“Stop it.” I squeeze his shoulder. “Good night, Cliff. And thank you for everything.”
He nods with a salute. “We’ll talk next week.”
I head back toward Walker’s cabin, windows down the whole way, feeling like a changed woman.
I’m not a bartender anymore.
I guess I’m officially a full-time interior designer.
39
Penny
On a nice big inhale, slowly fold forward…and send all your energy, all your tension, all your emotions into the floor…”
Beside me, Jessa and Callie effortlessly follow the instructions pouring through the computer speakers.
Me? When I try to bend forward, the only thing headed for the floor is my cranium. This belly of mine has definitely shifted my center of gravity. It’s growing like crazy.
Mister Baby Daddy (Bad Boys in Love Book 3) Page 19