Have My Baby (Dirty DILFs Book 1)

by Taryn Quinn

  “One second you think I’m a skank for ditching him.” I shook my head, running my thumb over the battered edge of the key. “The next I’m the chick with all the moves, and let’s face it, I so am not.”

  “You’re the one who has hottie Seth all tied up in a knot. I’d say you have a lot more going for you than you know.” She winked and ducked out the door, closing it behind her.

  A second later, the door opened again and she stuck her head inside. “Oh, and start thinking about that shower. I’ll come up with a theme, but a gender would really help my design.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “Gone. And I’ll make sure that hamburger is waiting for you at your preferred table in back once you’ve showered.” She winked. “A mother-to-be needs her calories.”

  She shot back out the door before I could screech.

  In spite of everything, I grinned. And glanced down at my mostly flat belly, hating that she was making me wonder. It was too soon. It couldn’t be a thing already. I’d know, wouldn’t I? Maybe even the instant it happened. How could you not? Something that incredible, that special, taking place inside you…

  Dear Lord, I was sounding as woo-woo as Sage.

  I shook my head and aimed for the door. I needed to run down the street to our loft and get cleaned up. Then I’d come back and eat my hamburger—oh God, so hungry—and read a book on my day off, instead of panic-working. I could totally handle all of this.

  Maybe I’d take that meal to go and eat on a bench near the lake. A picnic for one. Yay.

  Not.

  Half an hour later, I was freshly showered and changed into a pair of capri jeans and a tank top. I felt like me again. Dresses were fun, but I’d always be a jeans and T-shirt sort of woman. Reason twelve-hundred-fifty I’d assumed Seth could never see me as more than a friend. He preferred the uber feminine type. Or at least he had.

  I wasn’t sure what he preferred anymore.

  The bell dinged as I stepped into the diner, and this time, I didn’t hunch my shoulders. I wasn’t running away from anyone or anything. I was…taking a pause. There. That sounded better. Mature.

  Of course that maturity fell away the instant I glimpsed dark hair shot through with silver and a twin version of the man I’d just had sex with seated at the booth beside the one I always selected. Awesome.

  I plastered on a smile and went right up to their table. This was Seth’s family, after all. I’d just say hello and escape to my booth while clinging to my gratitude that they hopefully hadn’t overheard Sexathon 2017.

  “Alison,” Mr. Hamilton said before I could speak. “You’re not working today?” he asked, taking in my attire.

  I was probably imagining the faint sneer in his voice. Had to be. He’d never been warm to me, but he usually wasn’t rude either. Militantly civil was a more accurate description.

  “Nope, day off,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage. “Nice to see you’re back in town. Successful trip?”

  “Of course.” He went back to his menu, signaling our brief exchange was over.

  Okay then.

  I shifted to glance at Seth’s twin. As always, their similarities nearly knocked me off my feet, especially when I could still smell Seth’s scent on my skin no matter how much soap I’d used. “Hi Oliver.”

  “Al,” he said, smiling thinly. “Haven’t seen much of you lately.”

  “Oh, I’ve been around.” I gripped Sage’s lanyard hanging out of my jeans pocket. “Well, I won’t disrupt your lunch—”

  “Did you and Seth have a falling out?”

  I frowned, unsure if I’d heard Oliver correctly. “What?”

  “Are you and Seth beefing?” His lips twitched and for a second, I almost smiled too. Seth was the lighthearted twin, but occasionally, the normally uptight Oliver let loose with a sarcastic remark or a joke.

  “No.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and hoped my embarrassment didn’t show on my face. The inferno inflaming my cheeks didn’t give me much hope. “I’m fine. We’re fine. Why would you ask?”

  “Just haven’t seen you two together lately.” Oliver smoothed a manicured hand over the laminated menu he had to have memorized by now. The diner wasn’t his typical hangout as it was Seth’s—and it definitely wasn’t Mr. Hamilton’s—but it was almost impossible to live in Crescent Cove without patronizing it now and then. “You’re usually glued at the hip. The only other time you weren’t was when he was married, and even that was a brief interruption. Marjorie couldn’t compete with you.” The corner of his mouth ticked up. “Not sure any woman can.”

  The hum of conversation around us had nothing on the buzz in my brain. “What are you talking about?”

  He adjusted his tie, stroking it as if he was already bored with the conversation. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

  “Why, Alison, you didn’t know Oliver introduced Marjorie to Seth? He thought she was just the sort of woman his brother was—” Mr. Hamilton fell silent, and when the heavy beat of approaching footsteps cut through the chaos in my head, I understood why.

  “Oliver was as dense then as he is now. Hey, Dad. Good trip?” Before his father could answer, Seth rested his hand on my lower back. Even without looking at him, the weight of his stare seared the side of my neck. “Hey, you.”

  “And the natural world order is restored,” Oliver said, glancing pointedly between me and Seth before flashing me an I-told-you-so smile. “I was afraid you must’ve been dead in a gutter somewhere if Al was left alone for more than a moment or two. Oh, and love your new accessory. It’s so you.”

  I glanced down and bit my lip at the sight of my bright red patent leather dressy purse in Seth’s big hand. He didn’t relinquish it, and I didn’t ask.

  “Such a comedian.” With his free hand, Seth brushed my hair away from my cheek and I bristled. We were affectionate in public, but not to this level. “Did you eat?” he asked in a way that a, didn’t befit a guy who’d just been ditched post-sex for the second time or b, my purely platonic friend.

  Rather than reply, I jerked my chin at the burger at the next table. My stomach promptly grumbled, making Seth laugh and steer me in that direction. “Lunchtime. See you later.”

  “You don’t want to eat with your family?” I asked out of the side of my mouth.

  “I work with them every day. I don’t have to eat every lunch with them too.” So much for being polite.

  “Nice to see you, Mr. Hamilton.” No matter what Seth did, I never forgot my manners.

  “What, not nice to see me?” Oliver smirked and wiggled his fingers.

  “No,” Seth responded before I could, guiding me to one side of the booth.

  I pried out the well-worn paperback I’d shoved in the back pocket of my capris before sitting down. Seth dropped into the bench on the other side. I frowned at him, well aware we couldn’t have anything resembling a semblance of a normal conversation. He simply slid my purse across the table and lifted a brow at the book I still clutched.

  “The Sun Also Rises?”

  “So? I enjoy the classics.” I picked up my burger and bit in, letting out a moan. Sage had made the burger just the way I loved them—medium rare, extra mushrooms and pickles, light on the ketchup and mayo, heavy on the cheese. I was so into it that I didn’t glance at Seth again until I’d taken another bite, chewed, and swallowed.

  He seemed to be short on air. He was breathing too fast, and he’d grabbed hold of one of the stack of napkins to lay across his lap.

  Not because he was afraid of flying pickle either, I was willing to bet.

  I giggled. Honest to God giggled like a high school girl. And risked his family overhearing me as I leaned forward and whispered, “You can’t be.”

  He nodded frantically and I laughed harder.

  “You think it’s funny.”

  “What was your first clue?” I bit in again and deliberately did a Meg Ryan style eyes-rolling-back expression just to make him lose his mind.

  “Payback i
s a bitch.” His low, intimidating tone had me wiping my mouth with my napkin and reaching for my nonexistent glass of water. Guess Sage hadn’t thought of everything.

  “Hey Jean,” he said to my passing coworker before I could find my voice. “Mind getting the lady a glass of water? She seems parched.”

  “Seth. Didn’t see you sneak in here.” Jean smiled so widely that I was amazed Seth didn’t get sunstroke. She was sixty if she was a day, but he had that affect on women. All women.

  Even me.

  Especially me.

  “Jean, it’s okay. I can go get it myself.” I started to rise from the booth, but Seth held out a hand, stopping me.

  “Day off. Sit.”

  I was too surprised by his authoritative tone to argue. More dominance from him, this time outside the bedroom. Just like that night he’d ordered for both of us at the Sherman Inn. It wasn’t as if I didn’t want my voice to be heard, but something about him occasionally taking charge worked for me.

  Lord, I was fucked.

  “It’s no trouble. Be right back.” Jean bustled toward the kitchen.

  A moment later, Sage returned with my water, not Jean. She made a big production of setting it on the table and smiling at both of us, making enough small talk to set my teeth on edge.

  “And look at that, didn’t realize y’all had come in too,” she said to Oliver and Mr. Hamilton at the next table. “Is Jean taking good care of you?”

  “Not as good of care as you would, I’m sure.” I wasn’t positive, but I got the feeling Oliver winked at her, because she blushed twenty shades of red.

  “Hamilton men are charmers. Why, they’d charm the panties off a woman before she knew otherwise.”

  “You don’t wear panties. C’mon now.”

  Mr. Hamilton cleared his throat and lifted his menu like a shield as he leaned forward to talk to Oliver. His smile dimmed, but only slightly.

  Sage was still beet-red. “I do so wear panties. Not thongs either. Thongs ride up your crack. Ask Ally.”

  Mid-picking off a slice of pickle to eat, I paused. I did not look at Seth. “Sage.”

  “Just saying. Anyway, I gotta get back. Call me if you need anything.”

  “Not fucking likely,” I said under my breath.

  The moment she was gone, Seth leaned forward and mouthed, “You wear thongs?” Then he cocked his head, as if he was imagining what I had on under my denim capris.

  I ignored him and popped my pickle into my mouth.

  “Laurie’s birthday is next Saturday,” he said after a few moments of charged silence had passed between us. Oliver and their father were laughing quietly in the next booth, and Seth was eye-fucking me with enough force to have my clit pounding. It was kind of impressive, if I didn’t want him to stop.

  Right now. This instant.

  Okay, maybe tomorrow.

  “She’s going to be four,” he added, as if I didn’t have the date circled and red-starred in my planner. “I want to have a big party. Will you help?”

  “You want to have a big party in a little over a week. Have you planned any of it yet? Figured out a guest list, sent invitations?”

  He bit the tip of his thumb and shook his head. “No, not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I haven’t planned it at all yet.”

  I sighed, the joy from my orgasmic burger already fading. “People need more notice than a week. It’s almost summer. Little kids have activities and family stuff going on.”

  “I know, and I should have done it forever ago, but I got busy at work. Laurie’s counting on it.” His dark eyes silently pleaded with me.

  I pointed. “That look is getting you nowhere.”

  His lips curved and he mouthed, “Already did.”

  I pried off the last pickle round on my plate just for the pleasure of tossing it at his smug, laughing face. “I don’t have my planner with me here, but we need to figure some stuff out.”

  “So I’ll come over tonight.” The way he tucked his tongue in the corner of his mouth didn’t make me think he had party planning in mind.

  More like he was envisioning how many spots in my loft he could desecrate.

  “Your child,” I reminded him.

  “So you can come over,” he said.

  “I have work early.”

  “So come over tomorrow.” He leaned forward and skimmed his fingers over the back of my hand. “Come every day.”

  “Incorrigible, and no. We can do this via Skype.”

  He did that tongue in the corner of his mouth thing again. “I can work with Skype.”

  I reached for my purse and pulled out the pen and small notepad tucked in my wallet. He had to spring this on me the one day I didn’t bring my planner.

  Before I could begin my list of what we needed to accomplish, he grabbed the pad and my stubby pen. He scribbled something and turned the pad my way.

  Why do you have a condom in your purse?

  I glared at him and wrote a quick reply.

  You went through my purse, you bastard?

  He took back the pad.

  You ditched me again, your fault I had to look for clues.

  I snatched the notepad.

  I just needed time to myself. To process.

  He eyed me suspiciously.

  Girl thing?

  I nodded. It was a little insulting, but hell, lesser of two evils. Then I returned to an earlier point of contention.

  You were looking for clues that include condoms?

  He snatched it back.

  Condoms? Is there more than one?

  In spite of myself, I laughed. He was so ridiculous sometimes. I took the notepad and wrote what I felt was a reasonable reply.

  No. Just the one.

  Which I’d gotten free at a bar some time ago, but whatever.

  I thought it was good to be prepared. Wasn’t sure if you’d want to go for the gold yet. Thought you might want to practice first.

  The look he gave me after reading my words sent a jolt of pure arousal through me. Especially since he didn’t look away as he wrote out his response.

  Oh, I want to practice. Over and over. But every time I want to be dripping out of you like I was this afternoon.

  I clutched the pen and breathed. Honestly, that was all I was capable of for about thirty seconds.

  You’re saying that stuff with your dad and brother two feet away? Don’t you have any shame?

  I nudged the pad at him and he grabbed it up fast enough that he tore the edge of the page.

  Oh yeah, I do. Notice I haven’t thrown you on this table yet and fucked you right here? Trust me, that’s a feat.

  He started to push the notepad back then took it again before I could.

  You keep licking your lips and looking at me and looking away, and I know what all those signs mean. You want it too. Want me.

  I read his words and debated a comeback. They were what we exchanged. Always, over everything. Rarely serious, always messing around and antagonizing each other. That was our way.

  Telling the truth was so much harder.

  Duh.

  Okay, I didn’t say it was a reveal worthy of Dr. Phil, just that it resembled honesty. Hesitantly, I slid the pad back to him.

  He laughed. Just sat there laughing at me, or with me—hell, maybe at us—and I laughed too, because he wasn’t the only one who was ridiculous. We both were.

  For a moment, he just stroked the pen. That shouldn’t have sensual, but somehow it was. When he started to write, I inched forward on my seat, too eager to see his message to wait until he passed it back.

  Skype tonight?

  I nodded and he wrote more.

  Naked Skype?

  I shook my head, smiling faintly.

  Maybe a still or two?

  I bit my lip, pretending to think it over.

  For sustenance during toddler party planning.

  “Maybe,” I mouthed, knowing I’d probably send him any naughty pictur
es he wanted. Even if I blushed the whole time.

  This was Seth. I didn’t have to worry he’d upload the pictures on the internet or do anything sketchy with them. We could have the world’s biggest fight and never speak to each other again and I’d never have to worry about that. He was a decent, honorable guy.

  So why I had been so sure he just wanted me for my eggs? It was as if I’d read that stupid contract and forgotten everything that had come before.

  But God, I couldn’t forget what had come since.

  He smiled and scribbled a single word on the pad before nudging it back.

  Tonight.

  He kissed his fingertip and pressed it to the back of my hand before sliding out of the booth. The gesture was so sweet, I sat there dazed while he said goodbye to his family and loped out of the diner, every one of his long-legged strides doing something funny to my belly.

  Oliver got up to go to the bathroom and I tucked away my notepad. Might as well wait to take notes when I spoke to Seth. I grabbed my book and was about take off when Mr. Hamilton turned in the booth to smile at me. But it was the expression of a shark who scented blood.

  Mine.

  “It’s never going to happen, you know.” He stretched his arm along the back of the booth. “You’ve played a long game, but he’ll never settle down with you.”

  My spine locked and I gripped my well-loved book until the pages crinkled. “I think you have me confused with your son’s ex-wife. I don’t play games.”

  Except wasn’t that exactly what I was doing? Pretending I wasn’t in love with Seth. That I could have a baby with him and we’d still be friends and everything would be hunky-dory.

  Having a baby together was a life changer. A friendship changer. What would our new reality look like on the other side?

  “No? I bet Laurie’s mother would have something to say about that.”

  Not Seth’s ex-wife. Laurie’s mother. Another reality I didn’t like to face. That little girl didn’t just belong to him. She had a mother out there, and whether or not she’d been paid to split—and had accepted that payment—she could come back anytime. Rules were made to be broken. Contracts made to be ripped up.