Decidedly With Baby (By the Bay Book 2)

by Stina Lindenblatt

  “Hi—” Holly began.

  I pulled her to me and crashed my lips against hers. As if on instinct, her mouth opened and her tongue brushed against mine—and shit, if my cock didn’t just get excited.

  But before it could get any more excited, Holly pulled back with a Did-I-do-good? smile on her face. I wasn’t sure if she was asking about the kiss (which I definitely wouldn’t complain about if she wished to do it again) or the stunt I’d just pulled.

  I winked at her and she chuckled. Unlike her laugh, her chuckle was throaty and sensual. Like you imagined it would be if she were a jazz singer with a smoky voice.

  The bunny smiled when we turned back to her, but it screeched to a halt before reaching her eyes. “And you’d be?” she asked Holly.

  Holly held out her hand. “G’day, I’m Holly. I don’t believe Josh has ever mentioned you. And you’re…?”

  “Autumn.”

  True or false? Whenever you hear Chris Hemsworth speak with his native accent, you get horny. No lying. You know it’s true.

  Well, it’s no different for a man when he hears an Aussie accent coming from a gorgeous woman.

  And the bunny knew this.

  Which was why her tone was the opposite of Holly’s friendly one.

  Holly wrapped her arm around my waist, cozying up to me. My arm looped around her. I hadn’t realized until now how perfectly she fit against me like we were destined to be together—if you bought into that crap.

  “Thank you for keeping Josh company while I was dancing,” Holly said, grinning sweetly at the bunny.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Did you see Autumn’s fangs? She was about to sharpen them on Holly. No, I wasn’t a psychic. I just recognized that look.

  She smiled prettily at me. “Can I get your autograph? You’re my favorite player.”

  “Sure.”

  Yes, I kicked myself for that rookie mistake the moment she yanked down her low-cut top, revealing her lacy red bra and her humongous breasts—which I suspected had been greatly augmented. And while she hadn’t revealed the entire nipple, she did flash enough to give me a good idea of what they looked like.

  She held out a sharpie to me.

  “What did you think of the goal he scored tonight?” Holly asked. “I swear my heart stood still when he shot the puck toward the net.”

  I tried not to laugh. I had two assists but hadn’t come close to scoring, much to my chagrin.

  “Same here,” Autumn said. And what kind of goddamn name was Autumn? That was a season, not a name. Not that it was a bad name if she actually looked like an Autumn. But her blonde hair and pushed up tits reminded me of summer. Holly looked more like an Autumn, with her long auburn hair.

  “She’s kidding,” I said, ignoring the sharpie.

  Holly flashed her an oops-my-bad cringe, and I had to fight back yet another laugh.

  “You’re not a real fan, are you?” Holly asked, sounding scandalized at the possibility.

  Autumn stuck out her chest in a way that reminded me of the puffer fish I had once seen on a nature show.

  “That’s not true,” she said. “I’m a huge fan.”

  “If you were a real fan,” Holly pointed out, “you’d want him to autograph a piece of paper and not a piece of your chest. Because if you were a real fan, you’d want to keep that autograph in a safe place. And something tells me your chest is not a safe place. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a highly frequented location.”

  I decided I’d better not introduce Holly to Travis. He’d likely fall in love with her. Never mind the hot accent, her smart mouth would have him hard in record time.

  And of course, thinking that had my cock getting its own ideas…especially when it came to what it craved for her smart mouth to do to it.

  Inwardly I groaned and recited the National Anthem in my head. Backward.

  That did the trick.

  Autumn threw me a How-could-you-let-her-talk-to-me-that-way? hurt look that was as real as her breasts.

  I shrugged a “whatever” and on impulse kissed Holly’s temple.

  That must have been the shiny new nail in the coffin that Autumn needed. She didn’t even bother to ask for my autograph via the more traditional means. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulders and stormed off.

  “Wow, are they normally like that, the puck bunnies?” Holly asked.

  “Yeah, pretty much. Some aren’t bad. It’s the more determined ones that can be a pain at times. I swear sometimes they’re more competitive than the actual players they’re after.” And that was saying a lot.

  But this was probably why lately I had started to grow bored of them. Did that mean I didn’t have sex these days? Hell, no. It just meant I tended to go after the girls who were only interested in a good time. They didn’t care what the guy did for a living.

  I grabbed the drinks from the bar and handed Holly her daiquiri. We then spent the next hour dancing and drinking another round. At that point, the club was on the verge of being overcrowded, and I spent more time signing autographs than I did dancing.

  “You wanna get out of here?” Holly asked, and I could’ve kissed her.

  All right. I did kiss her. I was all for positive reinforcement and rewarding brilliant suggestions—and you couldn’t get more brilliant than that.

  We left the club more buzzed than when we had entered it, and definitely sweatier. But best of all, neither of us cared that my team was out of the playoffs and Holly’s grandmother had died. Tomorrow the ramifications would hit us, but for now we were appreciating the happy buzz.

  At least we were until…

  “Do you know what the worst part is about Nanna dying?” Holly said out of the blue as we walked along the waterfront after getting the cab to drop us off. Waves lapped against the concrete wall separating the ground from the ocean; otherwise, the world was quiet around us.

  “No, what?”

  “Having to go back home for the funeral.” She shuddered—either due to the idea of returning to Australia or because the May air held a slight chill.

  “How is that so bad?”

  “One word. My mother.” She giggled. Holly’s drunk giggle was kind of cute. “Oops! Make that two words.”

  “I take it your mother isn’t great?” If we were to compare mothers, mine would be as far from being Mother of the Year as Earth was from Uranus.

  “ ‘Holly,’ ” she said in a snooty tone that spoke of high income and house staff. Maybe even a butler who looked down his nose at unworthy house guests. “ ‘How could you believe that a ninety-five percent on your math test was an acceptable mark? Holly, proper young ladies do not run around the house like heathens.’ ” Holly giggled again.

  “Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty bad. Though I’m sure my mom could top yours.”

  “Really? I didn’t think anyone could be worse than my parents.”

  “My mom abandoned me when I was a kid.”

  What’s the best way to shock someone? Do exactly as I just did. I usually didn’t tell anyone the truth about my parents. Blame it on the truth serum (AKA alcohol) this time. That, and because Holly had told me something about her parents. Tit for tat and all that crap.

  With her green eyes round like the moon, Holly stared at me for a moment. “Oh, God. How could she do that?”

  I shrugged. “She learned from the best—my father.”

  “Wait, are you telling me both of your parents just up and left you?”

  “Pretty much. My father played in the NHL and married my mom when they were young. It didn’t work out and he divorced her. It didn’t help that he preferred screwing puck bunnies to being married. After a few years of raising me by herself, she decided one day she’d had enough and left. No forwarding address. No nothing.”

  Holly gasped. “What did you do?”

  “The only thing I could do—I got up every day and went to school like I was supposed to, believing she was coming back. Eventually I realized she wasn’t. Tha
t was about the same time the landlady began demanding past-due rent. Long story short, social services was brought in and I was sent to live with my grandparents.” Nice story, huh? Don’t worry, I’d say I turned out all right in the end. For the most part.

  Although from the way Holly was looking at me like she longed to give me a blowjob to make me feel better—or maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part—I was toying with telling her what came next.

  Once I turned sixteen years old, I stayed with billets. Think of them as foster care for junior hockey players who played for a team far from home. Some billets were great, while others were sadly lacking in the “great” department.

  “Wow, and I thought it was bad enough when my parents abandoned my brothers and me to the care of our nannies. And Nanna,” she said, instead of giving me the blowjob I could have gone for. Too bad. “My parents weren’t around much, thanks to their careers. Dad was around even less than Mom, always traveling. Always at meetings. But they would never have let us fend for ourselves. I’m so sorry that happened to you, Josh.”

  She reached up and gave me a kiss. It wasn’t a blowjob, but it was pretty goddamn hot. Hot enough to kiss away all my boo-boos.

  “Is that why you don’t want kids?” she asked once she had pulled away. She was clearly remembering the conversation we’d had when we first met. We were having dinner with Trent and Kelsey, and the topic of kids came up. Both of us had said that we didn’t see kids in our future. “You figure that since your own parents failed you as a kid, you won’t do much better?”

  “Pretty much. I haven’t exactly had the best role models, especially since my father used to play in the NHL and now I do. Not that it’s a big deal. I’ve long since realized the whole marriage and family-making deal isn’t for me. My hockey career is a bigger priority.”

  “Same here—except in my case, replace hockey with a financial career. And since I’m not even an American citizen and don’t have my green card yet, I could easily be deported back to Australia tomorrow.” She grinned at me. “Too bad we don’t have anything to drink. We could’ve toasted to us not becoming parents and to avoiding marriage.”

  I laughed. “I would definitely toast to that.” Then remembering how the conversation had started, I sobered up for a moment. “When’s your grandmother’s funeral?”

  A soft sigh escaped her lips and she gazed at the ocean—and for the first time since I’d met her, the usually confident Holly looked lost. “Next Thursday.”

  “Well, in case you haven’t heard, I’m now available. And I wouldn’t mind checking out Australia for a few days.”

  Holly’s head spun back to me, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Are you saying you’ll go to the funeral with me?”

  “Sure, why not? Unless you don’t want me there. I mean, if I’m cramping your style when it comes to all the horny men lining up for a chance to keep you there permanently.” I winked at her.

  Holly let out a delighted squeal and flung her arms round my neck, surprising me. Before I could respond, her mouth crashed against mine again. She still tasted like a mix of alcohol and strawberries, and it didn’t take much prompting on my part for my tongue to invade her mouth.

  She moaned, and I suddenly couldn’t get enough of her. I tangled my fingers in her hair and pulled back on it, allowing myself to deepen the kiss.

  By the time we stopped a moment later, we were panting like dogs in heat. My entire body was aching to explore the rest of her with my tongue, but this wasn’t the place.

  Hell, what was I thinking? Hooking up with friends was never a good idea.

  Not that I spoke from personal experience, but I’d seen a few friends over the years cross the line and it never ended well.

  If you didn’t count Trent and Kelsey.

  But there was always one exception to the rule.

  That was what my head said. My body had other ideas—all which involved my cock buried deep inside Holly.

  Get a grip, I told my body. It didn’t listen, getting more excited over the word “grip.” I mentally rolled my eyes at its reaction.

  “How about we go back to my apartment?” Holly suggested against my lips. “Then we can toast to not becoming parents, and about you saving my arse by coming to Australia with me.”

  At the time it sounded like a great idea. I mean, seriously, what could go wrong?

  Right. Famous last words.

  5

  Holly

  Back at my apartment, Josh and I settled on the couch with a bottle of white wine and an episode of Game of Thrones.

  Confession time. Believe it or not, we were the only two people on the planet who had never watched the show. My brother Chris had given me the season one DVD last Christmas. The gift had been a joke—if the way he and Simon had laughed when I opened it was any indication.

  Josh and I were just past the part where the young boy—don’t ask me his name, but I figured his family was important—was caught by his mom scaling down the castle wall. She told him off, but not too harshly, then made him promise never to do it again.

  If she had been my mum, she would’ve grounded him for two days—at least. Had teenage me ever climbed out my bedroom window? There was a chance that I had. And there was also a chance I’d done it frequently. Had Mum ever caught me? Not on your life. The CIA would be jealous of my stealth when it came to sneaking out of the house.

  My phone rang. Now, most people who phoned at two in the morning did so because there was an emergency. Or they were drunk and couldn’t tell the time.

  What was Simon’s excuse? Math was never his best subject, and he kept forgetting that Sydney was seventeen hours ahead of San Francisco.

  Normally I ignored him and called him back later, but given Mum’s news from a few hours ago and my happy buzz…

  “G’day,” I said, answering the phone.

  “G’day, long lost sister. I’ve got some good news.”

  Why did his tone make me think it was far from good news for me? As in, the kind of news that left him laughing hard for the next five minutes. “What’s that?”

  “Since you’re coming home for the funeral, Mum is pushing forward with her plans for you and Wilfred to get hitched.”

  Inwardly, I groaned. “And how exactly is that good news?”

  Simon laughed. Jerk. “Because I’ll be highly entertained watching you squirm your way out of it.”

  “Well, there won’t be any squirming happening. Not from me anyway. And Mum’s crazy if she believes she can get me to marry Wilfred. I bet even he wouldn’t go for it.”

  “Oh, don’t underestimate good old Wilfred. He sounded pretty hot to the idea.”

  Really? I remembered him as the dorky kid Simon used to tease. I doubted he’d even want anything to do with any of us after that.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said, reaching for my wine on the coffee table. “Mum won’t try to marry me off.” I took a sip of my much-needed drink.

  Simon snickered his How-is-it-in-delusional-land? laugh. “And what makes you so sure about that?”

  I totally blamed his laugh and the alcohol buzzing through my system for what happened next. It really wasn’t my fault—and I would swear it to my dying day.

  “Because…because I’m engaged,” I blurted. And then because that wasn’t humiliating enough to say in front of Josh, I added, “And…and my fiancé is coming with me. For the funeral.” Face, meet palm.

  “You’re engaged?” Simon asked. “As in, you agreed to marry some bloke?”

  “That’s right.” Couch, if you loved me as much as you pretended to, you’d swallow me whole now.

  When the couch didn’t cooperate with my simple request, I said to my brother, “Well, now that you’ve told me about Mum and Wilfred, I’m going back to sleep. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost three in the freaking morning here.” I didn’t give him a chance to say anything. I ended the call.

  I dropped the phone into my lap, then with a groan, covered my face w
ith my hands. “I’m so fucked,” I muttered.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Josh asked.

  With my hands still covering my face, I said, “Are you referring to anything specific?” Not the best stalling tactic, but it was all I could come up with on short notice.

  “Oh, I don’t know. How ’bout we begin with the part where your mom is trying to marry you off, and end with the part where you’re going to Australia with your fiancé?”

  “I’d rather not.” Oh, God, could this day get much worse?

  Josh peeled my hands from my face. Oddly enough, he looked more amused than anything. “Would more wine help?” he asked, the corner of his mouth quirked up on one side.

  Yes. “No. That’s what got me in trouble in the first place.”

  Josh ignored me and poured more wine into our glasses. “You might as well tell me, given I’m flying to Australia with you. Or is your fictitious fiancé going with you instead?”

  I groaned again. But then realizing he wasn’t letting this slide, I took a long sip of my wine. “My mum has been trying to hook me up with one of her friend’s sons for over a year now. Or at least she would have tried if Wilfred the Third had been around while I was there for Christmas last year.”

  “Wilfred the Third? The guy sounds like a major nerd.”

  “He is, but he’s also a rich nerd and my mum thinks aligning our families would be a good thing.”

  Josh laughed and my girlie parts tingled. Damn sexy laugh. “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “His grandfather started a very successful business that has been kept in the family since its inception, and my mum wouldn’t mind being part of it, for strategic purposes. Much like how royalty used to marry off their sons and daughters centuries ago in order to align countries.” I paused, letting him digest what I had said, hoping it made more sense to him than it currently did to me. “So, will you help me? Will you pretend to be my fiancé so she’ll finally abandon this stupid idea of hers?” Yes, because my idea of pretending Josh was my fiancé was the work of a genius.