Due Date_A Baby Contract Romance

by Emily Bishop

  I glare at Skippy, who snorts and spits a large chunk of snot onto the ground. That is his only reaction to Jordan’s statement.

  “I had no idea Skippy was so invested in my love life.”

  “I like to have my men keep an eye out for people who matter to me. And you do matter to me, Naomi.”

  “I recommend that you change that opinion, because you mean nothing to me, and you never will.”

  “You don’t want to hang out with the wrong crowd. You know what cops are like. I don’t know what wool this guy’s pulled over your eyes, but it’s always the same in the end. You’re not the kind of girl who ends up with a cop, Naomi. You’re one of us.”

  “Are you done?” I grit my teeth to keep them from chattering. I don’t know if it’s the cold or my nerves or both, but what I do know is I want these men far away. I want to be safe in my kitchen.

  Jordan releases a dramatic sigh. “Oh, Naomi, what are we going to do with you? Once you come to your senses, give me a call. You’d fit in well with me and my boys, and we know the best places to get a drink.”

  “Never.”

  “Suit yourself. Door’s open for when you change your mind.”

  His confidence radiates as he nods for Skippy to follow him. The obedient dog does just that, and the two of them head toward a pair of motorcycles. Jordan blows me a sarcastic kiss before they kick their motors on and speed off down the coast. I am mortified that he even bothered to show up here.

  My poor brother is rotting in a jail cell. Because of that man.

  12

  Ben

  I stroll into the station a little later than usual, and of course, I’ll get shit about it from James. He doesn’t look up at me.

  “Good morning,” I say, my tone cheerful.

  When he looks up, I can tell he’s pissed. I seem to annoy him pretty regularly, so I can’t even guess what it is that I did this time. It’s not like there was an emergency. If there had been, I would have been called. I walk up to his desk, and he slams a piece of paper down in front of me.

  “Twenty-nine concerned citizens, called back and checked out, sir.”

  Ah, that’s what it is. I bite back a chuckle. That assignment probably sucked pretty hard, but to be fair, he was being annoying about Naomi.

  Nothing wrong with building a little character through grunt work, right?

  “Anything suspicious?” I ask, unperturbed by his attitude.

  If he keeps it up, I’ll give him another shitty task. I can play this game all day until he learns to respect me.

  My uncle was the sheriff in this town for his entire adult life. When he died, James probably would have been the better choice, but the people chose me.

  James has yet to forgive me for that decision.

  “No,” he says.

  He has nothing else to say to me, and he turns back to his computer. I feel a pang of guilt now, and I wonder if I should apologize. I didn’t mean to get his panties in a bunch. After all, the work had to get done by someone, so I didn’t do anything wrong.

  Secure in this knowledge, I walk to my office without another word from him, and the glowing red light beckons to me, as it always does. When I check the voicemails, it’s another round of concerned boat owners looking for answers, and I take the information down diligently before deleting each one. When I reach the end, I sit back in my seat and look out the door.

  James might have an aneurism if I give him another round of boats to check. It’s a quiet morning, and I have nothing else to work on, so I decide to take it on instead. I slide into my jacket and head right back out the door. When I do, James looks up.

  “Where are you going?”

  His tone irks me, but I don’t give in to my annoyance. I’ve got my eye on James, and I want him to trust me, at least on some level. Just until I figure him out. My instincts tingle when I’m around him, and I trust those.

  “Another bunch of boats to be checked. I’ll take this round.”

  His expression lightens, and his eyebrows lift from their scowl. “All right.”

  “Great, thanks.”

  It’s clearly not a day for words around here, and that’s fine with me. I inhale cold, crisp oceanic air, then I slide into my cold cruiser and drive to the docks. I spend the morning checking off boats on my list, pulling out my cell phone and calling the owners personally. I get a little flack for the lack of safety, but generally this list is filled with people who are simply excited that their boat hasn’t disappeared.

  “I’m looking at her right now, sir. The boat looks to be in pristine condition.”

  “Then you must be looking at the wrong boat,” the owner jokes, and I chuckle.

  “I don’t think so. All is well.”

  “Well, thank you for checking. I appreciate it.”

  “Not at all. We’re happy to provide peace of mind.”

  “Of course. Have a great day,” the owner says.

  “You, too.”

  I end my last call, and my stomach grumbles. I haven’t had much to eat this morning. I scarfed down a banana on my way to the station, since I slept in. Not a single nightmare last night, which is saying something. I wonder if Naomi has something to do with that, and an instant need to see her springs up in my chest.

  I glance down at my watch and realize that the lunch rush should be nearing its end. I start walking in that direction, and it doesn’t take long for her little restaurant to come into view. Several groups of people are leaving, and I can’t help but grin as I walk through the door. Looks like that social media post I made worked.

  Katie is a blur as she bustles from table to table, cleaning up piles of dirty dishes and carting them back to the kitchen. When the bell rings, she looks up. Her hair is in disarray and her eyes are hyper-focused, like she’s been juggling fifteen balls at once for hours.

  “Busy lunch?” I ask.

  “Busiest I’ve ever had. You looking for Naomi?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a visit, if she has time.”

  “I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  “Thanks, and Katie?”

  She looks up from a table, her hands laden with dirty plates and cups.

  I maintain my grin. “No rush.”

  “Ha,” she breathes. She sweeps out of the room then, and I’m left standing with two couples sitting on either side of me. Otherwise every other table is still a little bit dirty. I shift from one foot to the other as I wait, and finally Naomi steps from the kitchen.

  She is a vision, truly. Her hair is slung back in a messy bun again, her apron is covered with bits of fish and other random mystery foods. Beneath it, her dress is a nice blue today, and of course, I recognize those boots. I’m thinking about buying her another pair, in case anything happens to them during another fuck session.

  Couldn’t hurt.

  My groin tingles at the sight of her, but then I notice that she’s frowning at me. Perhaps now is not the time for amorous thoughts.

  “Hey,” I say. I step forward, but she crosses her arms around her midsection and doesn’t move. Her eyes dart around the room, never landing on mine for more than a second.

  “What are you doing here, Ben?”

  She’s defensive. Something’s wrong. I wrack my brain for something I might have missed from the night before, but nothing comes up. We ended things on a perfect note. I wonder what changed, and I take a cautious step forward.

  “I’m a person. That means I have to eat at some point. This is a restaurant, where food is. If you put two and two together, it’s not too hard to figure out.”

  Plus, I wanted to see you.

  Naomi looks around the room again. She’s acting like a trapped animal backed into a corner. Something has spooked her, but I have no idea what it could be.

  “Maybe you should go somewhere else. I hear the place down the street is run by someone you didn’t arrest against their will, even when they said they were innocent.”

  I lift an eyebrow at her and take anothe
r slow step forward. She’s like a live electrical wire, and I tread carefully.

  “Yes, that did happen. And then we got evidence to the contrary, and I’ve behaved pretty well toward you since then.”

  “You think detaining someone for no reason is no big deal? Of course you would, because that’s what cops do, isn’t it? They arrest first and ask questions later, if ever.”

  She swipes at her eyes, and I move the last bit forward so I can place a gentle hand on her elbow. She doesn’t pull away, and I take that as a good sign.

  “Can we talk out back?” I ask.

  Her gaze finally reaches mine, and when it does, there’s fear and hurt there. She may be lashing out at me, but it’s not me she’s upset with. I want to know what happened. I want to make it better.

  She nods, and together we walk back to her office. Instant memories of Naomi bent over that desk shoot through my mind, but I pack them away. I close the door and turn her to face me. I force her to look into my eyes.

  “What’s wrong here? What’s happened?”

  She searches my gaze then looks down with a sigh. “I don’t think I should talk about it with you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, Ben. Because you’re a cop, and I’ve had a bad experience with police in the past. It’s difficult for me to trust you, especially because of how we met.”

  She still won’t look at me, and I absorb her words. She thinks all cops are corrupt, and then I come along and bring her in because she tried fleeing the scene of a crime.

  “I can understand that,” I say. “But, Naomi, you can’t blame every single person for the acts of another. My uncle died on an operating table. That doesn’t mean I’m never going to go to or trust another doctor again. Bad things happen, but if you put everyone in a box, you’re going to end up living a lonely life.”

  Her eyes search mine, and I watch as her shoulders slump and release their tension. The fight has drained from her.

  “You’re right, of course. I’m projecting. My brother, Alex… he was wrongfully accused and arrested. He was jailed for something he didn’t do. We tried everything to work with the police to get a fair trial, to get him justice, but they refused to listen. They had a man to take the fall, and that’s all they cared about.”

  I listen, my blood boiling as she reveals this sad story. As a cop, I live in a charged world where trust is hard to come by for members of my profession. Assholes like the ones Naomi is talking about are what give us a bad name. So many of us want to serve and protect.

  “I’m sorry, Naomi. If you’d like, I can look into it.”

  She waves a dismissive hand, then runs it along my arm. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, it’s done and in the past. I shouldn’t be judging you by that, but now you know there’s a reason I don’t trust cops.”

  “Well, you can trust this one,” I say, folding her into the circle of my arms.

  She relaxes a little, but she’s still not completely herself.

  “Come out with me tonight.”

  “What? No, I have to cook.”

  “Get Paul to cook. You clearly need a night out, and I clearly need to show you that not all cops are bad.”

  “Ben…”

  “Paul can handle it. Let him know now so he can prepare, and I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “Ben, I…”

  I don’t let her finish. Instead, I press my lips to hers then step back and open the door. “Eight o’clock sharp. I’ll be here.”

  Her eyes narrow, but when she gifts me with a rueful smile, there’s a little of the girl I know in there.

  “Fine, but if Paul quits, you’re my next sous chef.”

  I laugh and stroll back out. Somehow, I have forgotten that I was hungry when I came in. Now I have planning to do for later.

  “You bet,” I say, then walk back out into the cold.

  Tonight, I’m going to give Naomi an evening she will never forget.

  13

  Naomi

  There’s a little mirror in the top drawer of my desk. I pull it out and walk across the hall to a tiny staff bathroom, and I turn on the light. When I meet my expression, even I can see how nervous and on edge I am.

  No wonder Paul was so quick to agree to hold down the fort while I leave early.

  I pull a small makeup bag out of my purse and make reparations. I can’t go on my first date reeking of fish with hair tangled enough to be the net it got caught in. I dab some light eyeshadow on and trace a line of eyeliner over it before I comb mascara over my already thick, dark eyelashes. A little accentuation never hurt anyone, did it?

  I pull my hair out of its bun, and the tresses fall down to the middle of my back. I tug here and there as I try to create volume without any sort of product. The end result looks a bit flattering, nothing to write home about.

  The man didn’t give me any time to prepare. This is what he gets.

  I step back and get a look at the whole picture. I’m still in my blue dress and boots, and I wonder if our date will be outside. Even in cold weather, I never dress in warm clothing because the kitchen is always hot as hell. It’s not like I have to walk far to get to work, either, and I like to dress for summer all year round. Life is much more fun that way.

  “Naomi! He’s here!”

  My heart jumps at Katie’s voice, and I tuck my makeup bag and mirror into my purse, take one last look at myself, and then turn off the light. My boots clunk against the scuffed wooden floor as I reach the kitchen. Paul is hard at work searing some fish, but he looks up at me as I enter. His eyes widen almost imperceptivity, but I notice.

  “You look nice,” he says. He’s never seen me outside of chef gear, much less with makeup on. I imagine it must come as a bit of a shock.

  “Thanks,” I reply with a smile. That smile falters as another round of orders come in. “You sure you’re OK? I’m sure Ben will understand if I cancel. This is terrible timing.”

  Paul shakes his head as he plates the food and moves on to another pan. “You need to enjoy yourself, Naomi. Trust me. I can handle this.”

  I hesitate, unsure.

  Katie rushes back, and when she sees me she lets out an exasperated breath. “Don’t tell me you’re going to hide in the kitchen all night! He looks great, and so do you. Go!”

  She walks up and presses my back, pushing me toward the dining room. Before we can get there, she stops and tugs on my dress.

  “Hold on,” she says, pulling me toward a large silver basin sink.

  “Wash your hands, woman. You smell like the sea, and not in a good way.”

  I laugh and turn on scalding hot water, pumping a dollop of lilac-scented soap on my hands and scrubbing them clean.

  “Good catch, thanks,” I tell her.

  She nods. “I got your back. Now here, dry off and get your ass out of here. The dining room is perfectly manageable, we promise.”

  “What if Skippy and his crew come back?” I ask.

  It’s the question that’s been at the back of my mind since Ben walked out this afternoon. Jordan is back in town, and Skippy is clearly one of his lackeys. He’s been watching me. He knows that I’ve got something going on with Ben. Is going out with him the best decision right now? I tried to tell myself he was bad news, that being with him could get us both into trouble. He proved me wrong in an instant. He saw right through my defenses and gently broke right in. Still, I know what Jordan is capable of.

  I don’t want to live my life out of fear.

  I like Ben a lot. I want to see where things can go with us. It means risking Jordan’s interference, whatever that may be, but I’m not cowering to their bullying. I do worry about my restaurant without me there, though. What if they try and pull something while I’m away?

  “Then Paul will shank them while they’re not looking. Isn’t that right, Paul?”

  Paul blushes and nods without looking at us. This gives me another pause, but Katie grips my shoulders and pushes me out of the kitchen. Before I can protes
t, she pushes me straight into Ben.

  “Whoa,” he says, and his arms wrap around me. I’m blushing when I look up at him, and I glare as Katie prances by.

  “Have a nice night, guys!”

  “Thanks,” I grumble at her, and then I look back up at Ben. He’s staring at me with wide eyes, and he searches my face before he realizes that he’s still holding my arms and steps back.

  “You look…”

  “Like a fishwife, I know. Shall we?”

  “That’s not what I was going to say.”

  I laugh and lace my fingers with his. He’s here now. The place is taken care of. Might as well lean into it and have some fun. His hand squeezes mine, and he takes the lead, pushing the door open for me to walk through. A motorcycle is parked out front with a large pack tied to the back.

  I look up at him and lift an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

  Ben shrugs. “Thought you might enjoy a moonlit picnic on my uncle’s boat. It’s not too far from here, down one of the other docks. You interested?”

  I look down at my summery dress and boots. A shiver tickles my spine. “I’m not exactly dressed for an evening outside.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got you covered.”

  He takes off his jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. I’m cocooned in his warmth, his scent that I’ve grown to love. He sits astride the motorcycle and waves me over. Funny how a motorcycle can look so daunting when belonging to the wrong person and so inviting when belonging to the right one.

  “Come on then. Night’s not getting any younger.”

  I slide in behind him and wrap my arms around his waist. I can feel his ab muscles beneath his shirt, and I want to play them like an instrument. I want to stroke each individual one with my tongue, and then sink lower. Ben kicks the bike awake, and the vibration beneath my ass doesn’t help my instant lust. I think about what it would be like to fuck Ben on this bike, with the motor running, and I wonder if he’d be up for it.

  He seems pretty adventurous to me.