by Erika Kelly
“Yes. Of course. I…” Coco tried to shake it off, but it was taking a minute for her brain to come back online. “Becks. It’s…” Get a hold of yourself. “It’s nice to see you.”
Willow’s smile hardened. “How do you know each other?”
“Why don’t you come in?” Diane said. “Let’s all sit down.”
But Coco couldn’t do that. “I’m sorry. I have to get Posie.” What do I do? How do I handle this? “I need you to wait right here for me. Can you do that? I’ll be back in half an hour.” She’d take Posie to her parent’s house. “Okay? Thirty minutes.” She looked into Becks’ eyes, registering the confusion. “Don’t go anywhere.” Oh, God. Her stomach had contracted into a hard pit. As she breezed past them, she got a whiff of his scent—and it sent her right back to that night six years ago.
His hands gripping her ass, his mouth on her neck, the sheets shushing as they rolled and shifted.
God. She raced down the hallway, catching a snippet of their conversation before the door fell shut.
“What’s going on?” Easy, breezy Willow’s voice had turned insistent.
“I met her in Vegas a couple years ago,” he said.
Her heels clacking across the hotel lobby, Coco dug into her purse for her keys, but she couldn’t find them. The valet opened the door, and she stepped out into the cool, late spring air. “Thank you.” She rooted around in her purse. Dammit, she was going to be late.
Where are my damn keys?
A drop of sweat rolled down her temple, as she grew increasingly frustrated.
“Ma’am?” A valet came up to her. “Would you like me to get your car?”
Right. She’d been running late and hadn’t found parking. “I forgot I left it with you.” Jesus, I’m a mess. She found the ticket sticking out of an interior pocket and handed it over. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Be right back.”
Tourists breezed past her, their flip-flops smacking on the boardwalk. Costumed actors strode by, the women carrying parasols, the men in three-piece suits, and a crowd gathered around a staged shoot-out. Life went on as though a bomb hadn’t dropped into her world.
She couldn’t make sense of it.
How in the world did Posie’s father just…appear in her life?
And he’s the groom?
A chill skittered across her skin, making her realize she’d left her cardigan in the office. She didn’t have time to go back for it.
She didn’t have time…for anything. She was totally unprepared for this moment. Sure, the first year or two, she’d tried to find him, had rehearsed what she’d say when she did…but she’d stopped imagining the impossible long ago.
Only…the impossible had just happened.
How do I tell him he has a child? Do I tell him in front of his fiancée?
And then, for one wicked moment, she wondered…do I even have to tell him?
Anxiety surged through her.
No, of course she did.
It was just…he was getting married. Soon, they’d have a family. If they met Posie, they’d fall in love with her. She was smart and fun and wildly imaginative.
Visits would quickly turn into joint custody. And that meant—God—not reading to Posie every night before bed and laying out her clothes, only to have her choose her own outfit anyway. It meant not spending every holiday with her.
Coco’s skin went clammy, and her mind spun.
The idea of sharing her baby girl…it felt like driving too fast on a mountain switchback.
I can’t do it.
I can’t share her.
She didn’t have a choice. No matter the consequence, she had to tell him. It was the right thing to do for him and for Posie.
Tires crunched over the dirt road, as her dark green Jeep pulled up in front of the hotel.
“Coco.” That voice. Rich, deep…thick with concern.
Slowly, she turned to face him. Becks still had the same chin-length honey-blonde hair and laidback demeanor. And those eyes. A fresh wave of awareness rolled through her.
Those are Posie’s icy blue eyes.
When she noticed her cardigan bunched in his fist, he thrust it out to her. “You forgot this.”
“Oh.” Even though she needed its warmth, she shoved it into her tote. “Thank you.”
At the same moment, the valet clambered onto the boardwalk. “You’re all set.”
And there she stood on the boardwalk, sandwiched between the valet and her one-night stand, and she’d never felt more lost in her life.
She wanted to get it over with, just lay the truth at his feet. To skip ahead five steps to the point where her world righted, and she knew exactly what the new reality looked like.
Sliding a look to the valet, Becks pulled a wallet out of his back pocket and handed the young man a bill.
“Thanks, man.” The guy took off.
Coco shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m just completely in shock.”
“Yeah, crazy coincidence, right? Somehow, though, I have a feeling there’s more going on here.”
“You’re right. There is.” She gestured to her car. “But I really do have to go right now. You’ll wait for me?”
“Of course. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.” She stepped off the boardwalk and headed around to the driver’s side. Gunshots from the shootout ripped through the air, sending her pulse into overdrive. Just as she opened the door, she looked up to see him still standing there, watching her.
“Hey,” he called. “Did you ever get your adventure?”
“I did.”
And you’re about to meet her.
“Did you catch her?” the wedding planner asked.
Beckett nodded, distracted. “Hey, how old’s her daughter?”
Because what else could it be?
What else would have a hookup from six years ago so freaked out about seeing him again?
“Oh, Posie just had her fifth birthday yesterday.” Diane’s tone held warmth. “She’s a doll.”
Five. He’d met Colette—shit, her name’s Coco—at the end of September six years ago. He remembered, because it was right after that trip to Portugal. Add nine months…and that made her a June baby.
Something cracked inside him, like stepping on the thin crust of ice on a newly frozen lake. A shiver raced up his spine.
Holy fucking shit.
“Hey, babe, what’s going on?” Willow sat on the edge of the conference table, her long legs swinging, her feet bare.
Jesus—how would she handle this? They’d just had the no-kids conversation. They were both very clear on the subject.
Diane gathered her leather sheath. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
The moment she walked out the door, Willow jumped off the desk and approached him. “You okay? You look like you’re going to be sick.”
Beckett paced to the window overlooking the mountain, but his vision wouldn’t focus on anything, the view nothing but a blur of green, brown, and bright spots of moving color.
A kid. The idea darted around his mind, like a firefly dipping and weaving—just out of reach. He couldn’t grab hold of it.
Hang on. She’d had a boyfriend. That’s why she was sad that night at the club. The guy had fucked her over—
That’s right. He’d ghosted her.
The kid’s not mine.
Oh, Jesus. Relief swept through him.
Of course, it’s not my kid. We had one night together.
And we used condoms. He thought back…had they? Yes, absolutely. He distinctly remembered grabbing them from his toiletry bag.
He clutched his head, letting out a shaky breath.
Willow put her hand on his back. “You’re kind of freaking me out right now. What’s going on? You obviously know the chocolate lady, so what’s your story with her?”
“I told you. I met her in Vegas six years ago.”
“And?”
“And nothing. It was one night.”
“Then what’s she all freaked out about?”
He turned back around to face the room, folding his arms across his chest. “No idea.”
“You didn’t know she was from here?”
More information came back. Her ex had ghosted her on a daycare business they were supposed to start in her hometown. A tourist town.
Is this it? Calamity?
What were the odds she lived in the same town as the Bowie brothers?
Why did I never ask?
“I mean, if it’s nothing, why are you both acting so weird?” Her phone chimed, and she looked at the screen. “Okay, they just got back to me.” Her brow furrowed. “When’s the Pamplona trip?”
“The first bull run is July sixth.”
“Okay, good. I don’t want to miss that one. So, then, I’m going to take this one. It’s a rock festival in Ireland. Do you want to come with me?”
Ireland didn’t have the kind of extreme sports he covered, but he could go just to hang out with her. “When is it? I’d have to check my calendar.” But not right now.
Now, he could only think about Colette—Coco, dammit. Because why, if the kid was her ex’s, was she so wild-eyed?
What’s going on?
“End of August.” Willow’s voice sounded like it came from the other end of a tunnel.
Come on, Coco wouldn’t be freaked out if the kid was someone else’s. Nothing else made sense.
Fear churned through him, the blades hacking away, turning his bones to mush.
He shut down that line of thought. Hang on. Wait for her to get back. “I have to be in France September first. Can’t miss it.” That was the biggest trip he had this year. His followers couldn’t wait to see the footage of him with nine other medaled athletes wearing wingsuits and flying off a cliff.
“Oh. I really wanted to go to that. Now, I don’t know what to do. We need to synch our calendars, so I can see what you’ve got going on. With a wedding coming up, we need to do more trips together.”
Her words pinged off his brain and clattered to the ground like pellets on aluminum.
He needed answers.
He dreaded them.
Pretty, sexy, sweet, caring Colette—Coco—had a kid. She’d gone off on an adventure, only to find out she was pregnant.
Had she married the ghost?
A fresh fear sliced through him, though he couldn’t say why.
Coco being married was a good thing. She’s a mom. A business owner. She has a full life.
I’m getting married, too.
Am I, though? Even stringing the words into a sentence felt like wearing shoes on the wrong feet.
“I guess I have to figure out what’s more important for my brand,” Willow said. “Going to the festival or traveling with my fiancé? At least for the next year, we should probably do a lot more things together. That’s what my followers want to see. It gets the most engagement. We’ll both just have to compromise. I’ll skip some things to go with you, and you’ll skip some to show up with me.”
“I’m not skipping anything. If it’s on my calendar, it’s something I committed to.” The only thing that distinguished him from every other person with an app and a unique idea was his reputation. He met his obligations and commitments, period.
“Well, that’s the thing. It’s not just you anymore. It’s us. We have to do things together.”
“You’re welcome to come on any of my trips, and I’m willing to go with you on days I’m not already booked. That’s about all I can offer.”
Fuck, he didn’t want to talk about work.
He needed answers.
He needed Coco to come back and talk to him.
He needed to know if his life was going to be blown apart.
Chapter Three
Lost in his thoughts, Beckett paced a trail on the carpet.
And then the door opened. Coco breezed in, breathless. “Hey.”
She was so fucking pretty. Ridiculous thing to be thinking in that moment, but still. With her dark hair framing her face in loose, gentle waves, the bright red lipstick, and her black and white polka dot dress that showcased her curvy figure, she hit a note in him he couldn’t explain.
“Hey.” He didn’t mean to sound clipped, but...I’m a fucking mess.
Willow glanced up from her phone, watching Coco enter.
The two women couldn’t have been more opposite. His girlfriend was nearly six feet tall, with long, flowing red hair and a toned, athletic body. She was only twenty-two, but a life spent outdoors had toughened her skin. Not that she wasn’t beautiful—she absolutely was.
But Coco…she had a quiet elegance. That’s what he’d first noticed about her, that air of dignity. He’d been drawn to her because, underneath that smile, had been a poignant vulnerability that had grabbed him by the balls.
“Sorry about that.” Coco strode to the table and dropped her tote on it. “We have a routine after school, and she doesn’t like breaking it.”
Willow got up. “So, what’s going on? You’ve got us all twisted up here.”
Coco drew in a deep breath. “Right.” She looked at him, strong, resolved.
And yet, underneath that determined façade, he could see fear. The look in her eyes said, Can I trust you?
Something in him rose, tall and confident. Yes.
But then it sat right the fuck back down when he remembered they were talking about a kid.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” Coco said. “But I’ve got a five-year-old daughter, Posie, and…she’s yours.”
Even though he’d prepared himself for those words, the cord tethering him to reality snapped, and he went into freefall.
“That is not only a ridiculous thing to say, but it’s dangerous.” Willow slapped her phone on the table and pointed a finger at Coco. “I don’t want you to say that again—to us or to anyone—until he takes a paternity test.”
Oddly, it wasn’t his girlfriend’s stern defense that brought him back. It was Coco’s pride. The tilt of her chin and set of her shoulders reminded him he wasn’t alone in this experience. She was struggling, too.
“Beckett is her father.” Coco said it quietly, calmly. “I’m more than happy to get a test done, but once you see her, you won’t question it. That said, let me be very clear.” Her whole demeanor changed, went from kind and sweet to stern. “I’m telling you because it’s the right thing to do, not because I expect you to be involved in her life in any way.”
“You guys had a one-night-stand,” Willow said. “Let’s be real. It could be anybody’s.”
“That’s enough.” He stepped forward, breaking the waves of tension flowing between the two women. “I’m assuming your ex already took a test?”
“Of course.” She looked to Willow. “And I hadn’t been with anyone other than Keith and Beckett.” Turning toward him, she grew more intense. “I want you to know I looked for you, but the only thing I had to go on was your name. Your friends called you Becks, so that’s what I looked for. Other than a bar and a couple of women, I didn’t find anything.”
“That’s because I’m Beckett. Only the snowboarding world called me Becks. And I retired six years ago.”
Her probing look laid a question out between them. Did you try to find me? But she quickly brushed it aside. “I have a picture of her.” Coco reached into the tote and pulled out a framed photograph. “I grabbed it from my mom’s house when I dropped Posie off.” Her hand shook as she handed it over. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess right now.”
Part of him didn’t want to look at the picture. He didn’t want this to be true.
Willow grabbed it before he could. “Wow. She looks just like you.”
He glanced over and stared into the blue eyes of a laughing little girl. Her hair was golden blonde, exactly like his. Fuck.
Fuck.
“She’s got your dimples,” Willow murmured. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She handed the picture back. “We’re still going to need
a paternity test.”
“I have no problem with that,” Coco said. “But, again, I’m not looking for anything from you. I have a very strong support system here, and my business is doing well. I don’t need anything.” She tucked the frame carefully into her tote, as though it had feelings, and Willow had hurt them.
“I’m not…” He couldn’t take his eyes off the photograph peeking out of the bag, too aware that he hadn’t touched it, hadn’t really looked at the little girl. “I’m not accusing you of anything.”
“Neither am I,” Willow said. “But it’s a reasonable request. We’re leaving for Thailand tomorrow, so we need to get it done today. We can deal with the situation when we get back.”
Tension crackled around them, and Coco went rock hard. “My daughter is not a situation. She’s a beautiful, happy, smart, little girl.” She shook her head with a look of disgust. “Okay. I’ve done what I needed to do, and now I’m going to go. You know where my shop is, so after you pick up a test at the pharmacy, you can drop it off with me. Unless, of course, you’d like to swab her yourself to make sure I’m not pulling a fast one on you.” She grabbed the handles of her tote and walked out the door.
“Sensitive much?” Willow reached for her phone. “Like we’re just supposed to jump in and start writing child support checks? Come on.”
She was a flurry of motion, passing by him to grab her purse, reaching inside for sunglasses, but for some reason time had slowed for him. He couldn’t get his body parts to move. Glancing out the door, he watched Coco duck into Diane’s office.
“Let’s go,” Willow said. “We need to get this done today.”
Coco came out of the office and strode down the hallway, her quick pace causing the silky skirt to flutter around her legs. He felt this terrible tug, like every step she took away from him meant he was going to lose her. “Wait.” He bolted out of the room.
She must not have heard him, because she kept on going, pushing through the door that led to the resort lobby.
He chased after her. “Coco. Wait.”
Slowly, she turned, taking in a steadying breath. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” He didn’t have any more words. He just didn’t.
But the two he gave, simple as they were, seemed to relax her. “I’m sorry, too. I know this is hard for you, I do. But in all the times I imagined finding you, I was never accused of trying to trap you.”