Luke (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 8)

by Lane Hart

  Done.

  That wasn’t so bad.

  Back in the living room, Roxy says to me, “Great, now shake it until you can’t see the powder chunks floating around and have a seat on the sofa.”

  I do as she says, shaking it like a Polaroid picture before sitting next to the armrest. Roxy stands up and carries the baby over in her arms. God, this all seems so surreal. Just this morning I woke up in a random woman’s bed after a night of hot, sweaty sex, not a care in the world other than the season opener tomorrow, and now here I am, stuck with a kid.

  When Roxy starts to lower the baby toward my lap, I snap back to reality.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her frantically.

  “Showing you how to hold a baby,” she answers. Placing the kid in the crook of my right arm, she removes hers from him completely.

  Oh shit, I’m holding a baby!

  “There, you’re doing it,” Roxy declares proudly.

  She’s right. I am doing it, and he’s not screaming his head off quite as loudly anymore. I say it’s a he based on the blue one-piece outfit and blue and white striped hat he’s wearing. He looks so delicate and small. Fragile. I hope I don’t accidentally hurt him. My outstretched palm is probably about the size of his whole entire body.

  “Wow. He’s so…light and warm,” I mutter while looking down at the little guy. Holding him isn’t as scary as I thought it would be. While I’m still worried I might break him, I can’t help but think he’s kind of…cute.

  “Let me see your phone,” Roxy says to Kohen, who hands her the device. She snaps a few quick photos before she lifts my left hand that I forgot was still gripping the bottle and brings it up to the baby’s lips. The little guy opens his mouth and instantly starts sucking.

  “He was hungry. He’s a growing boy,” Roxy says while snapping a few more photos with Kohen’s phone. “Especially if he’s gonna be six feet six like his daddy.”

  I don’t know who the hell dropped him off with me, but I’m pretty sure they’ve made a mistake. A huge one, in fact, by leaving their kid with someone who doesn’t know shit about babies.

  “He may not be mine,” I remind Roxy.

  “If it turns out he is yours, do you have any idea who the mother may be?” Roxy asks before taking a seat on the sofa next to me. Kohen eases down on the other side of Roxy like he can’t stand to be more than a foot away from her.

  “No. No name on the note,” I answer her question. “All it said was, I can’t do this anymore. He’s yours, I’m certain of it. You would have known about him sooner if you read your mail.”

  “Wow. Okay. So first thing’s first, let me call the local hospitals and police department just to make sure we don’t have someone’s stolen baby,” Roxy suggests, which is pretty smart thinking. “Then, you’ll need to go get a DNA test on Monday, probably take him to a pediatrician and get him checked out too.”

  “Yeah,” I reply, wondering how long it will take to get back the results. A few days probably. What the fuck do I do with the kid until then? My parents are coming in for the game tomorrow, so maybe they can stay and help out.

  “In the meantime, try to think of who you may have slept with around nine months ago, so the end of December? If he was born a few weeks early, maybe the first of January?” Roxy offers, trying to be helpful. There’s no way I’ll admit to her that I can’t even recall exactly how many women I slept with during those two months.

  “Ugh, don’t remind me,” Lathan says when he slumps down into my brown leather recliner. “January second we lost big time in the first round of the playoffs.”

  “Aw, fuck,” I groan and lean my head back against the sofa at the god-awful reminder of the night we lost the playoff game. “That was a bad night. I got shitfaced doing a bar crawl with Cameron and Nixon. I made them both drink a shot for every dropped pass of mine, and I had to do a shot for every interception I threw. For the entire season. We all lost count around the tenth or eleventh one. I woke up the next morning naked except for my shoes in the back of a cop car with three different club wristbands on.”

  “Shit, dude. I didn’t know that. Did you get arrested?” Lathan asks.

  “No, but only because the cops were apparently big fans. They said they picked me up on an indecent exposure call when I was wandering around Nixon’s neighborhood. Since they recognized me, they drove me around until I woke up and gave them my address. When I got home, I signed some jerseys and shit to thank them for not throwing my sorry ass in jail or selling me out to the paparazzi.”

  “So you think the mother is someone you hooked up with that night?” Roxy asks.

  Goddamn it.

  The one night of my life that I get blackout drunk and I knocked someone up?

  “Maybe,” I answer honestly on a sigh. “That’s the only night of my life that I don’t remember all the shit I did.”

  “And since you didn’t keep it in your pants, now you’ve got a baby on your doorstep,” Lathan says.

  “We still don’t know for sure that he’s mine,” I remind him.

  “In the meantime, though, he’s your responsibility,” Roxy tells me. “Once he finishes eating, I’ll show you how to change him. Kohen, can you and Lathan go to Target and buy some newborn diapers and a pack and play?”

  “A pack and what?” Kohen asks, and I’m glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t know jack about kids.

  “I’ll send you a text with pictures,” Roxy tells him with a kiss on his cheek.

  “Okay, but when I get back, you and I are going home,” Kohen says when he stands up. “Sorry, Quinton.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll make Lathan stay to help out,” I reply.

  “No way, bro,” Lathan argues. “At least one of us needs to be fresh and ready tomorrow; and since my dick is free and clear in this situation, it’s gonna be me.”

  A snort escapes before I can help myself at the sad reminder that he’s never actually been inside a woman. “I’ll take a crying baby any day over your long, miserable years of suffering with your virginity.”

  Roxy gasps in surprise over hearing about the twenty-four-year-old virgin at the same time Kohen pipes up and says, “Amen.”

  “While I would rather you keep your big mouths shut about my personal shit, I’m not ashamed,” Lathan says, although his cheeks are a nice new shade of red. “If this baby is yours, you’ll have to spend the rest of your life taking care of him,” he says, causing me to wince at that dick slap of truth to my face. “And, Kohen, you nearly lost your million-dollar career because of your dick. So, tell me again what I’m missing out on by not sleeping around?”

  “I approve, Lathan,” Roxy tells him. “One day, you’re gonna make a woman fall in love with you even harder when she finds out that you waited your whole life just for her. She’ll feel cherished and special.”

  “Thank you,” Lathan says, flashing Roxy an appreciative smile.

  “Hopefully she won’t have already worked her way through an entire football team before she finds you,” Kohen responds with the more realistic scenario before Roxy elbows him in the gut making him release an “Ow.”

  “Don’t you have some baby shopping to do?” Roxy asks Kohen with raised eyebrows.

  “The sooner we get this done the sooner we go home, so I can remind you how cherished and special you are,” Kohen replies, giving Roxy a kiss that nearly goes into PG-13.

  “Don’t forget the condoms!” I remind them, effectively ending their make out session.

  “Mood killer,” Kohen says before he and Lathan finally leave.

  “I think he’s done eating,” Roxy says a few minutes after the guys take off to the store. “Now you need to burp him.”

  “He can’t burp on his own?” I ask before handing her the bottle. “And, fuck, we don’t even know if he has a name.”

  “Aww,” Roxy says with her bottom lip out. “That's so sad. We should give him one, even if it’s only temporary.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Any
suggestions?”

  “Possibly your kid, so your call,” she says with a grin.

  “Right,” I reply on an exhale as I study the little guy. I sit him up to get a better look.

  “Don’t do that without –” Roxy starts right before the kid goes straight Exorcist on me. Yellowish, nasty-smelling, regurgitated formula erupts from his mouth, soaking his outfit and my shirt and jeans.

  “Dude, that wasn’t cool,” I say to the baby while gagging from the stench.

  “I was gonna say, don’t sit him up without a burp rag,” Roxy informs me as she pulls a white cloth from the baby’s black bag and brings it over to try and mop up the mess.

  “I am so out of my league here,” I tell Roxy as she takes the baby from me. “We’ve got to find his mother ASAP.”

  “I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy, Quinton,” Roxy says sadly as she spreads a blanket on the floor and lays the baby down on it. “If she dropped him off on your doorstep…no offense, but she must have been desperate to get rid of him.” Roxy starts undoing the snaps that go down the center of his outfit with practiced ease. “Come here and watch so you can do this next time,” she glances up to tell me.

  Kneeling down on the floor beside her, I watch as she pulls the kid’s arms free and then his legs before she changes his diaper.

  “Easy, right?” she asks. “Just be gentle with pulling his arms and legs through the clothes holes, and make sure you always support the back of his head whenever you pick him up.”

  “I can’t do this Roxy,” I confess, getting back up so I can pace, the stinky puke on my shirt making it impossible to think straight.

  “Sure you can. It’ll just take a little practice…”

  “No, I mean, I’m not ready to be a father,” I clarify.

  “Mr. Competitive Quarterback, are you actually backing down from a challenge?” she asks with an arched blonde eyebrow that causes my feet to stop.

  “Hell no,” is my automatic response since giving up or quitting isn’t ever an option for me. “I just mean my life is too busy and hectic for a kid, if he’s even mine.”

  “Some of the other players have kids,” Roxy points out as she finishes redressing the baby.

  “Yeah, and they also have wives or at least ex-wives who stay home to take care of them.”

  “Then I guess we just need to find you a wife,” she teases.

  “Find me the one woman in the great wide world who actually turns me down, and I’ll put a ring on it,” I joke.

  “Oh, that’s right!” Roxy exclaims. “You’re waiting for the lady who would rather slap you than kiss you to come along so you can begin the challenging process of sweeping her reluctantly off her feet.”

  “Exactly,” I tell her. “And I may be old and feeble in a nursing home before that day ever comes.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it,” she replies, followed by a laugh. “Now come practice picking him up.”

  “Why can’t you just toss him to me?” I joke.

  “He’s not a football to be tossed. And you need to practice since he’s gonna be with you until we get DNA results or find his mother.”

  “Fine,” I grumble. “But let me change first.”

  Once I’m in a clean, laundry-scented shirt and jeans rather than vomit-covered ones, I head back into the living room. Reaching down, I start to scoop the baby up from the floor, but Roxy raises her hand to stop me. “Remember to cradle the back of his head.”

  “Got it,” I say as I wedge one of my big palms underneath his head and the other beneath his narrow backside. Since he doesn’t weigh much, he’s easy to lift. “Now what?” I ask Roxy while holding him out in front of me.

  “Bring him closer to your body so that he’s resting against your chest, feeling your warmth,” she says, demonstrating with her empty hands. It takes a few tries before I finally get him twisted around.

  “Like this?” I ask.

  “Yeah, but you can move your hand from his head since it’s propped up on the crook of your arm,” she tells me, which makes holding him easier and frees up my right hand. “Now sit down and let’s give him a name.”

  Taking my favorite seat in one of the oversized recliners, I get comfortable. With the baby in one arm and the TV remote in my other hand, I’m all set. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

  “So…any ideas for what to call him?” Roxy asks before plopping down on the sofa.

  “I dunno,” I say on a heavy exhale as I try to think.

  It’s not like I’ve ever considered the names I would give my son since I’ve never really imagined having kids. I love my life, playing football and being a rich bachelor with plenty of women to keep me busy. But I guess if I were to have a kid I would probably want to name him after a great football legend, since I would want him to follow in my footsteps and play. Actually, now I can even picture myself teaching my son how to throw a perfect spiral in the backyard after school and taking him to games on Sundays…

  “How about Emmett or Troy?” I ask Roxy. “Maybe Brady?”

  “Football players?” she asks, followed by a giggle. “Okay, fine. I guess Brady would be a pretty good name.”

  “So we’ll call him Brady, you know, until we figure everything out,” I tell her.

  “Sure, Quinton. Whatever you say,” Roxy replies with a smile.

  About an hour after Lathan and Kohen come back with the baby supplies, we finally get the baby bed thing put together while Roxy holds a sleeping Brady. Already the name is sort of growing on me like it fits him. I’m sure his mother gave him a name, and he probably has a birth certificate somewhere. Too bad I don’t even know who she is. Roxy made some calls, but no one knows anything about the baby or his mother.

  “I can’t believe someone could just leave their baby behind, especially one as adorable as he is,” Roxy says after we put the little guy down to sleep in his new bed.

  “Yeah, and I’m clearly the wrong man to pick for the job,” I reply, taking a seat on the foot of my bed. There are five other bedrooms in my enormous house, but it didn’t seem right to put the baby in one all alone tonight.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Roxy assures me with a squeeze to my shoulder. “And who knows, maybe she’ll show back up in a few days.”

  “Maybe,” I respond doubtfully.

  Tomorrow morning my parents are coming into town, so I called and asked if they would babysit for a friend during the game. They gladly agreed, so I figure I can explain in person what’s really going on when I see them. Hopefully, my mom can even stick around and help out for a few days until we get the DNA results back. Which brings me to another problem I hadn’t really considered. What happens to Brady if I’m not his father and we can’t find his mother?

  “Well, I’m gonna head out,” Lathan tells us as he starts for the hallway. “See you all tomorrow. Good luck, Quinton.”

  “Thanks,” I reply.

  “We better get going too,” Kohen turns and says to Roxy.

  “Yeah, it’s getting late,” she replies hesitantly while still watching the sleeping baby. “But now you’ve got my number, so you can call if there’s an emergency,” Roxy tells me.

  “Okay, thanks, Roxy,” I say before getting up to give her a hug of gratitude for helping me out. “Thank you too, Kohen,” I tell him, offering a fist bump, which he hits.

  “No problem. See you in the morning,” Kohen says before he leads Roxy into the hallway with his palm on her lower back.

  The anxiety of knowing I’m about to be alone with a baby for the first time has my chest constricting and my palms sweating again. Of course I get nervous before a game, but this is different. It’s an actual life that depends on me to not fuck up.

  I’m about to freak out and chase down Roxy and Kohen before I hear Kohen’s voice call out from down the hallway.

  “Changed our minds! We’re staying, Quinton,” he shouts.

  “Thank God,” I mutter in relief.

  Now that the current crisis has
been averted for the moment, I flop down on the bed and pull out my cell phone to call up Nixon. I want to see what he remembers about the night we lost the playoff game.

  “Yo, man, this better be important,” Nix says when he answers.

  “You busy?” I ask.

  “Ah, yeah. My head’s between the legs of a beautiful woman, so what the fuck do you want?” he barks.

  Surprised, I say, “What about your whole no sex before a game rule?”

  “My dick is staying in my pants until tomorrow night after we win and she can return the favor.”

  “Right,” I say with an eye roll.

  “So what’s up, QB?”

  “Someone left a baby on my porch tonight,” I tell him.

  “Nice! Lathan pranking you?” he asks.

  “Ah, no. There was a note that said he’s mine. And since he’s been here for hours, I’m starting to think it’s legit.”

  “No shit?” he mutters. “Who did you knock up?”

  “No clue; that’s why I’m calling you.”

  “Sorry, man, but I don’t keep a running tally of all your bedroom TDs.”

  “I know,” I tell him. “It’s just that, do you remember the night when we got shitfaced after losing the playoff game?”

  “Fuck, man. You’re killing my mojo. Don’t remind me of those three drops, two of which were in the end zone, or I’ll have to get shitfaced again tonight to forget.”

  “I know, it was one clusterfuck after another. But if this kid is mine, and that’s a big if, then that’s the only night I think it could’ve gone down.”

  “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You forgot to wrap it up?”

  “Dude, I forgot everything other than drinking with you and Cameron and then waking up in the back of a police car. Do you remember any women I may have hooked up with?” I ask.

  “Hmm, most of the night was a blur to me too, man,” he replies. “But didn’t you go off with some tatted up chick when we were at Limelight?”

  “I left with a woman with tattoos?” I ask.

  “I think you disappeared for a little while with her. Before that, you kept slipping Benjamins down the front of her skirt and asking for a private lap dance.”