Claim My Baby (Dirty DILFs Book 2)

by Taryn Quinn

  Possibly both.

  “Talk to you later.” I clicked off on the call and immediately more missed texts from Ally started filling my screen. Someday I’d have to replace this old, crappy phone.

  I could do that now, since I’d won some money yesterday. Money I’d barely thought about since I was high on Oliver.

  High wasn’t the word for my feelings toward him right now.

  “Sage?”

  “Ally asked you to come babysit me.” Rather than look at him, I looked at my partially eaten sandwich. My appetite was gone.

  For a lot of things.

  He didn’t deny it. He simply picked up the napkin in his lap and folded it beside his plate. He’d finished his meal while I was speaking with his brother. Why should his lunch be disrupted? He wasn’t the one who needed to be protected and coddled.

  “It wasn’t babysitting,” he said quietly. “Did any of this seem to you as if I was put out, or wasn’t enjoying your company?”

  I only half heard him. “I knew it was fishy you were on that plane. Business…yeah, right. But that’s on me. I didn’t want to examine your motives too closely because I was happy to have someone with me—even a sort-of friend like you.”

  “And we’re much more than now, are we not?”

  “Was that part of your caretaking too?” I had to force out the question. “I know Ally would never have requested it, but maybe that was your bonus with purchase.”

  Before he could respond, I stumbled to my feet and ran to the gate that bordered the patio, escaping to the street.

  I stood on the sidewalk and fisted my hands at my sides. Where was I going to go? Back to the suite he’d “upgraded” for me? Or I could take an Uber and run home. Tail between my legs, pride thoroughly tattered. And I wasn’t even entirely sure what I was angry for.

  That Ally had asked him to watch over me? That he’d agreed?

  Most of all, that he hadn’t told me?

  He’d let me believe he’d come of his own twisted volition, business or no business. I’d taken it mostly at face value because I wanted to think it was happy circumstance that had led to us being together—minus the few minutes when I’d wanted to kill him, present moment excluded.

  “Sage.” His footsteps sounded behind me.

  I gazed around blearily, needing space. I couldn’t process any of this when he was close.

  An Uber pulled up to the curb to let someone out, and I rushed forward, slipping into the back.

  The driver blinked at me in confusion as Oliver hurried across the sidewalk, his movements less coordinated than I’d ever seen them.

  Good. Let him be the one off-center for a change.

  “Miss?”

  “Take me to Elvis. Now,” I demanded, as he whipped away from the curb just as Oliver reached for the door handle.

  “I’m assuming you mean one of the chapels? I personally know of a few of them.”

  Hi, my name is Sage Evans. I claim not to be a romantic, but where do I run after a possible breakup with a man I wasn’t even dating, just fucking? To a wedding chapel.

  With a fake Elvis, but whatever.

  “Take me to whichever is closest.”

  Unshockingly, we ended up back at our hotel, the Golden Apple. We’d been eating lunch just a short distance away, so no surprise there. But I didn’t balk.

  I shoved money at the driver, along with my profuse thanks, and climbed out. I didn’t see if Oliver was hot in pursuit. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d just have to deal with the chapel too.

  The one thing I didn’t expect? That fake Elvis would have a line even at midday.

  A line of couples, most of them giddy. Not surprising, since hey, getting married and all.

  Right now, I hated every one of those people.

  “Hi, honey, you here to see the King?” A tiny senior citizen with bright turquoise hair and glasses to match came up to me with a clipboard. “You alone or waiting on your fella?” Before I could reply, she lowered her glasses to eye me up and down. “Never had no one marry themselves yet, but there is that whole Galentine’s movement, and we don’t judge at Hunk O’ Burning Love Chapel.”

  A laugh burst out of me as I craned my neck to read the sign. Dear God. Perhaps Oliver was right. Who would come to a gaudy place like this, Elvis fan or not?

  I could always book a trip to Graceland. Solo, of course. The way I was doomed to travel from now until eternity, amen.

  “So, no fella, is it? We won’t stop you from meeting his Excellency, though there is a charge—”

  “Fellow reporting in.” Oliver’s winded, harried voice made my stupid heart go into a free fall, but I didn’t turn to look at him.

  Naturally, he’d found me. I’d broadcast my plans all over God and country. I was as subtle as Halley’s comet.

  “Oh, well now, look at you. You’re a tall drink of water, aren’t you?” The woman tilted back her head. “Y’all getting married?” She glanced at her clipboard. “Do you want the quickie or the longie? Quickie includes—”

  “No,” we responded simultaneously.

  “No what? No quickie? The longie is much more expensive because the King performs two songs for you, one of them couple’s choice. Tipping is optional.”

  “We’re not getting married. Just here to see,” Oliver coughed, “the so-called King.”

  I glared at him. “Can’t you just play along? Do you have to ruin everything?”

  “I’m sorry if I have trouble calling a man in black pleather the name that belongs to one of the greatest artists this country has ever seen.”

  A huge guy wearing leather overalls sans shirt and what appeared to be a full set of brass knuckles stepped out of the line to eye Oliver. “You got a problem, son? This is supposed to be a happy place,” he added in a growl.

  Oliver held up his hands, palms out. “No problems here. What you people do for entertainment is your business.”

  That didn’t seem to placate the man, and he stepped forward. “That so? How you feel about me entertaining myself by putting my hands around—”

  “Hey there, mister.” The turquoise-haired lady smacked the man in the gut with her clipboard. “Back in line or you lose your place. We don’t tolerate no riffraff here.”

  “He started it,” the guy said before stepping back into line.

  “So, no marriage?” Clipboard lady confirmed, noting something on her form. “Just a visit. No songs?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Oliver. “You are a horrible human being.”

  “Fine. Have him sing his whole fucking repertoire for her. How’s that?” Oliver tugged out his wallet and shoved a truly shocking amount of bills at the woman. “Consider the extra your tip.”

  Her eyes bugged out behind her turquoise specs. “Why, I can’t—George! We have a rush couple!”

  Leather dude turned around to growl again. “Oh, hell no. Hawaii Five-O is not cutting the line.”

  Oliver glanced down at his shirt as if he’d forgotten his attire and sighed. “We can wait. What else could we possibly have to do on a fine day in Vegas?”

  “Well, thank you. Thank you very much.” She moved on to the new couples that had joined the line behind us.

  “We need to talk,” Oliver said, voice low. “We can do it here if you insist, but we need to.”

  I crossed my arms. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  “Fine. I’ll do the talking.”

  I waited.

  “The day we talked in the diner break room, Ally sprang the following-you-to-Vegas idea on me. She’s pregnant. Did you expect me to say no and condemn her to a weekend of worrying? She loves you, whether or not you wish she’d mind her own business. If it’s any consolation, I usually wish the same. But not over this.”

  I started to argue. It was our typical way. Then I really heard what he’d said.

  “Why not?”

  He glanced off in the distance before finally meeting my eyes. “This wee
kend has been incredible.”

  The blatant honesty in his statement rocked me off my feet. There was a lot I didn’t know in this life, but one thing I could spot was a liar. At least that was what I told myself.

  He wasn’t lying. He meant it.

  “If I’d missed out on a minute of it…” He raked a hand over his surprisingly disordered hair. He’d even kept his scruff under duress, simply because I’d asked him to. “Well, let’s just say I owe my sister-in-law a debt of gratitude.” He paused. “My brother, however, deserves a knee in the nuts, which I will be all too happy to deliver.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “He said your prime operating time was nighttime.”

  “Oh, did he now? Not much different than what he said last night.”

  Frowning, I hooked my fingers in the pocket of his shirt and made him look at me. “Is that why you got all moody after he called last night?”

  “I did not get all moody.”

  “You sure did. I thought it was Celine again.”

  “I actually enjoyed Celine. Most of it.”

  “Celine too?” Leather Overalls shook his head in disgust. “You have some serious issues, dude.”

  Oliver ignored him and lowered his voice to speak for my ears only. “No, he nicely informed me that you were too innocent for me, and not to make it personal if something happened between us.”

  “Oh my God, that asshole. I never liked him. I disliked him almost as much as I disliked you.”

  Oliver’s lips twisted. “As long as your dislike for him doesn’t take the same kind of turn as it did with me.”

  I jabbed my fist softly into his rock-hard stomach and he caught it, holding it there.

  Just like that, I melted.

  Staying mad at him was impossible. He’d been so sweet to me when I’d needed someone this weekend, and he was stupidly hot. I didn’t want to remain angry when I knew Ally and even Seth—though he was probably getting two knees in the balls after this weekend—only had my well-being in mind.

  “They don’t know that we…” I swallowed hard and laced my fingers with his. “I don’t want them to know. Okay?”

  His brow furrowed, and he hesitated before nodding. “Okay.”

  “I also don’t want this to end when we go back home.” I let out a shaky breath. “For as long as it works for us…both of us, I mean. No strings. No expectations on either side. Just fun. Exactly like this weekend, except on our home base.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but I fisted a hand in his silky shirt and leaned up to murmur near his ear. “Before you say yes, I mean only you and me. While I’m in your bed, no one else is. Got it?”

  “Agreed.” He slipped his free hand into my hair and cupped the base of my head, his expression fierce. “Same goes. I don’t share.”

  I shrugged. “Not like there’s anyone else who—”

  “And that needs to stop. Right this instant.” His touch against my scalp turned rougher and my nipples beaded, right there in line to see the so-not-the-King. “You’re a beautiful, smart, funny, beautiful woman.” He leaned down and nipped my lower lip. “Got it?” he echoed.

  I smiled against his mouth. “You said beautiful twice.”

  “Yes, and I’ll say it another thousand times before we’re through.” He turned me around in line and wrapped his arms around my waist, setting his chin on my shoulder. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

  As if I’d had a choice. No strings? Yeah, right. Already I could feel them winding around me as surely as his arms.

  Not because of him. Because of me. Somehow he’d teased long-dormant wants to the surface, and I had no choice but to accept and enjoy what I had instead of what wasn’t possible.

  “Yes, and I’ll say it another thousand times before we’re through.”

  That was the most salient point. We would be through eventually. In the meantime, I would focus on pleasure and excitement and fun, and pretend I didn’t occasionally imagine other, much different outcomes.

  With Oliver. My frenemy.

  A man who couldn’t accept fake Elvis, but was waiting in line with me to see him.

  Who patiently stood and listened as said fake Elvis played both “Heartbreak Hotel” and “Blue Suede Shoes” and called me “honey” and “darlin’” and “love bug”.

  Oliver wore a tight smile through all of it, and held my hand the entire time.

  On the way out, I spotted a huge throne-like chair I suspected was for photo ops with pseudo Elvis. I made a c’mere gesture to Oliver and lured him to it, pushing him down and then crawling into his lap. He didn’t balk. Didn’t hesitate a beat when I leaned up to meet his mouth. He just pulled up my legs and kissed me as eagerly if we were in private, lost in our own dirty world of greedy kisses and velour and plastic palm trees.

  It was absolutely glorious.

  “Got it!”

  Dizzily, I turned my head to see the beaming clipboard lady flashing me her iPhone screen. And there it was, me cuddled into Oliver as if we were madly in love for all the world to see.

  Or just one grinning receptionist at the Hunk O’ Burning Love Chapel.

  “Send me that, please,” Oliver said huskily, giving her his email.

  I did the same, and marveled that he wasn’t pissed she’d gotten a picture of such an intimate moment. While we were in public, no less.

  Smiling, I reached up to brush that errant strand of hair off his forehead. “You, sir, have earned some time in the pool.”

  He leaped to his feet, still holding me. I laughed and clung to him for dear life. “Damn straight I have.”

  10

  Oliver

  What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas—unless you happen to live in the same town as your new lover.

  I’d failed to realize exactly what keeping to Sage’s agreement would entail. Returning home and resuming regular life while she was part of mine in a much different way was more difficult than I’d anticipated.

  I didn’t like pretending we weren’t more to each other than what we’d been when we left for vacation. Sniping over nothing was natural and entertaining. Hiding the moments that came after wasn’t nearly as simple. When I glimpsed her rubbing her aching lower back at the diner and longed to draw her against me, I had to stop myself.

  That wasn’t what we were about. In public anyway.

  In private, she was eager moans and an adventurous spirit and so many needs wrapped up in laughter and smoky sensuality that was a joy to witness.

  At night, she was mine.

  All mine.

  During the day, I shared her with the world and pretended that was enough.

  But she’d set the parameters. Defined her boundaries. As much as I hated the subterfuge, I agreed that it was less bothersome to keep our relationship private. There were far fewer questions to deal with. Much less so-called helpful advice to wade through.

  I still didn’t like it. At all.

  Before we left for Vegas, I would’ve considered this the ideal setup. Easy—and frequent—access to sex with a gorgeous, inventive woman who required discretion. Not even just from Ally and Seth and the rest of the far too curious townspeople, though they were snoopy enough. But Sage’s parents were coming for a visit soon, hoping to be local for when Ally had her baby.

  Much as I rued the secrecy, I didn’t have any desire to meet the parents. Of course, I already had, many times. Sleeping with their daughter was a different scenario altogether, and I didn’t have a clue how to be…whatever this was. I never stuck around long enough to meet the parents of women I dated. Probably by choice. That smacked too much of permanency, and I was always one foot out the door.

  As I was now too. Right?

  Wrong.

  Rather than looking for my escape, I seemed to be seeking ways to entrench myself deeper. Not just in her sweet pussy night after night, though that was one of my favorite occupations as well.

  No, this was something far more dangerous. As was my need to goad her
under the guise of keeping to her agreement. It was as if I wanted to see if I could break her. If she would finally let the secret out…and then what?

  I didn’t know, yet I still kept testing the limits. Testing her.

  Testing myself.

  “You’re sure you’re able to keep Laurie while Ally is in the hospital?” my brother asked, twirling his spoon through his coffee. “I can probably manage, and she won’t be in there long. They ship them out pretty much as soon as they squeeze out the kids these days.”

  There was an image I didn’t need while I finished lunch. I glanced across the diner booth at Ally, who seemed preoccupied and was staring off in the distance. Could be she wasn’t excited to hear about being shoved out of the hospital the moment after giving birth. Or else she was depressed over her life choices that had led to her becoming impregnated by and marrying my oaf of a brother.

  I still wasn’t happy with the asshole, considering everything that had gone down in Vegas. Knowing Seth had Sage’s best interest at heart didn’t change that he’d hurt her feelings with the way he’d phrased things.

  Things I’d unwisely repeated to Sage just to assuage my own concerns about her using me as a handy virginity destroyer. I wasn’t proud of it.

  Then again, I had shared a womb with the jerk who’d spoken out of turn. What could I expect? We were, quite literally, cut from the same tattered cloth.

  “I said I could do it. You’ll have enough to deal with.” I shook my head and picked up my black coffee. I’d gotten three refills so far, and it wasn’t because I’d developed a sudden love of the diner’s burnt roast.

  I did have a rather new fixation on the hot-as-fuck waitress, however.

  We’d invited Sage to take her break and eat with us. I didn’t doubt if I hadn’t been with Seth and Ally, she would’ve taken them up on the offer. Having to crowd into the booth on my side and deal with my leading comments and questions—usually intended to try to slip her up in some way about our relationship—probably wasn’t the most relaxing way she could spend her precious few moments off the clock.

  I didn’t blame her. I also couldn’t stop. What I hoped to gain from my obnoxious behavior, I didn’t even know.