ROMANCE: BAD BOY ROMANCE: M.V.B. - Most Valuable Baby (Sports Secret Baby Romance) (Contemporary Interracial Pregnancy Romance)

by Lexi Ward

  “You should have attended the hearing. You would have had a front row seat to the circus yourself.”

  “And who said I ever wanted that?”

  Gina smiled at him. “True enough.” Dusting off her hands, she walked over to their father’s desk. “Apparently, dad’s inheritance will all go to the first kid who has an heir of their own. Dad left a little note about the importance of family or something like that. I didn’t really hear what the lawyer said after the first part because everyone shouted and argued and—gah, it was awful.”

  Hanes stopped dead in his tracks. He dropped the books in his arms in the box beside him and turned fully to Gina. “You’re not serious.”

  “Why would I make something like that up?”

  “Dad really put all of that in his will?”

  “Yeah.”

  He laughed, a spiteful kind of joy blooming within him. He stared heavenward. “He truly was a wonderful man.”

  Gina huffed, but otherwise said nothing.

  “Wait a minute.” Hanes strode up to her, cleaning out the desk of papers and such. Grinning, Hanes placed his hands on the soot-covered desk and leaned toward his baby sister. “Are you meaning to say that your other brothers aren’t here helping because they are trying to knock up some poor women?”

  Gina gave him a pointed look that told him everything.

  Hanes chortled. “God, that’s beautiful.”

  “Not for the poor women.”

  “And why not? They get a kid and a bunch of money. Sure, they need to partake in at least one horrible act of attempted sex from our very ignorant, immature siblings, but still.” He spun around and glanced at all the boxes. Never had he been so happy with one of his father’s decisions, even though it meant he had to be one of the people doing the clean-up. He nearly laughed again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Frankie parked the rental car right outside the empty arena, her eyes sweeping over the mostly empty parking lot until they spotted Hanes’s trailer in the distant dirt patch. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or even more anxious to see that he was still there, so she just blinked and waited for a few moments.

  Turning off the car, the heat was quick to rise and smother her. She placed a hand over her slightly swollen belly and got out. This time, she had a large purse with her, and she plopped the keys inside of it while still staring at Hanes’s trailer.

  Her first and only one night stand…and he was the father of her unborn child. It was funny, but it was also terrifying. Not that she feared being a mother—she was thrilled about that, even if it didn’t occur as traditionally as she had wanted it to. No, her throat constricted because she didn’t know if she should even tell Hanes. But he had the right to know, didn’t he? What if he wanted to be a father?

  Custody might be difficult to arrange. She was in New York and he was here.

  Frankie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Telling him was the right thing to do. She had decided that weeks ago. Now, she just had to finish her journey and walk to the trailer.

  The thought made it a little harder to breathe. Pressing her lips together forcing herself to inhale deeply from her nose, she opened her eyes and strode onward. No more hesitating—no more fear. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it as fast as she could.

  She must have knocked on Hanes’s trailer door over thirty times before she it finally realized he wasn’t home. The tremors beneath her flesh ceased, her palm pressing against the door as she sagged forward.

  “Hanes?” Frankie said, relieved yet disappointed when no one responded.

  She slid her hand down the door before letting it fall a bit toward her belly. Her gaze remained upward, trying to peer past the blinds. Anxiety built up within her again as she tried to imagine what Hanes would say once she told him everything.

  Would he curse her for telling him? Would he be insulted that she didn’t call him sooner?

  Frankie shook her head and leaned closer to the windows. “Hanes?” He clearly wasn’t here, but saying his name like he was made Frankie feel less…guilty? Nervous? She wasn’t even sure. It just felt good. “Hanes? It’s Frankie. From…erm…a while back.”

  A gentle glint caught Frankie’s eye. Though it difficult to see much through the blinds, she could see part of a shiny saddle with something engraved on it. Frankie shielded the top of her eyes and pressed her face against the dirty window.

  “Big Jim’s Ranch and Stables.” Frankie furrowed her brow, eyes glued to the engraving. The name was familiar…

  She reeled back and walked quickly to her rental car. Big Jim’s Ranch and Stables—Frankie had seen signs all over town giving directions to various properties owned and leased by “Big Jim.” Hanes must work at one of these places when he isn’t bull-riding.

  Perhaps if she found out where Big Jim himself was at, he would know where Hanes was.

  It took a while—driving around town, driving by several renting stables and fields—but eventually, Frankie drove down a long, narrow driveway leading toward the estate of Big Jim. At least, the mailbox at the front of the driveway had the words “Big Jim” and “Estate” on them, so she felt that she was in the right place.

  Driving less than ten miles an hour, she glanced around at the gorgeous green fields that surrounded her. The estate itself looked like a palace, and in the distance, there were two—no, three barns, all freshly painted and gleaming in the sun.

  It was like a heaven for cowboys.

  Frankie parked the car in front of the fanciest garage she had ever seen. Unable to breathe, she got out of the vehicle and clutched her purse with both hands.

  There had been no gate—no “DO NOT TRESPASS” sign—but everything was so big and beautiful that she couldn’t help but feel threatening. God, what if they sent a guard out to apprehend her?

  Frankie walked toward the front deck of, what she assumed was, the actual mansion and not some expensive side-house or workshop or something. Rich people often had all kinds of “houses” for various uses.

  A light wind grazed the grass and bushes, but shy of that, it was silent. Frankie sweated, her hands shaking as she held her purse over her stomach.

  By the time she got to the front door, she was wheezing. She knocked on it—too soft at first, fist quivering—again and again, the harsh sound grounding her in reality. She was fine. She was innocent. She was a pregnant woman looking for her baby’s daddy. That was it. The more she told herself this, the harder she knocked.

  When the door opened, she actually jumped and reeled her fist back.

  “Hi,” she blurted, grinning. “I’m—”

  Hanes stood there, sleeves rolled up and shirt partially unbuttoned. His eyebrows rose the second he registered her. “Frankie?”

  Frankie nearly blushed. He remembered her. Her fist still in the air, a part of her remembered to lower it while the rest of her was fixated on Hanes’s green eyes.

  “Hello,” he said, smiling. “It’s good to see you again.” He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. Then, before she could even process what was happening—masculine scent, strong arms around her—he backed away. “But what are you doing here? I thought you hated country living?” He sounded sincerely confused rather than affronted.

  Frankie tightened her grip on her purse, though the sight of him eased away many of her worries. She almost felt like just flat-out saying— “I’m pregnant.”

  She paled a second after he did. Damn her and her tactlessness.

  “I don’t want any money or anything like that,” she said, nails clawing into her purse while a nauseating quiver jiggled in her gut. “I know you live in a trailer and all that, and if you were loaded, I wouldn’t—that’s not why I came here. It just seemed like the proper thing to do, you know? I don’t want to put any kind of pressure on you, but keeping a secret like this—hiding from you—God, I would hate if you did something like that to me. Well, not that you could, because you don’t have a—” Frankie pressed her pur
se against her mouth. Her entire body flushed with humiliation, her heart constricting at the sensation. She was torn between vomiting and crying. Luckily, she managed to do neither.

  Hanes remained speechless. His eyes wide and mouth ajar, he gaped at her like had forgotten how to talk. After a few awkward seconds, a sound traveled up his throat.

  “You’re going to be a daddy, Hanes!” a girl from inside said. “Don’t be staring all quiet like that. Say something!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Hanes spun around and jabbed a finger toward Gina, peering around the corner of a hallway. “What did mom tell you about snooping. Get. This isn’t any of your business.”

  “Not yet,” she said musically before running down the hall.

  Hanes still pointed at the empty space, his hand reluctantly lowering on its own accord. He had reacted out of habit—Gina was always such a nosy gossip—and now his psyche was sinking back to its earlier stunned state. He shook it off and tried to think—tried to process.

  He…and Frankie…a baby. Wow. He had been around the bend and back a few times, but he thought he had grown past the pregnancy-scare phase. Not that this was a “scare” but the real thing.

  “I’m sorry,” Frankie said. “I…should I have come? Maybe I shouldn’t have. But I thought I, um—”

  Hanes returned his full attention to her. A nice lady, fun-loving and sensitive. She must be as scared as she is guilty.

  “No need for that, darling,” he said. His own guilt swelled up within him, and he let it show on his face. “I’m the one who is sorry. I…this has never happened before, believe it or not, so I was just surprised. But I am really glad you told me.” He thought about for a second, and then he nodded when was certain this was true. “I’m not a fan of secrets either, especially one so big.”

  Frankie released a large breath, her small frame loosening immensely. She almost looked like a different person, no longer so stiff and stressed. “Good. I’m glad.”

  Hanes gaze lowered to her belly, hidden behind her purse. Curiosity and some foreign need had him gently pushing the purse to the side until Frankie finally moved it. But, of course, her stomach looked no different than it had a couple of months ago. He was embarrassed as he was disappointed.

  “Sorry,” he said again, wincing and forcing himself to look her in the eye. His dad always said that when you made apologies, you didn’t hide from the person you were apologizing to. “Of course you ain’t showing yet. I…I was rude.”

  “It’s your child,” she said, a bashful expression coming over her. She licked her lips and glanced away. “I don’t mind.”

  “Okay,” he said. His child. He blinked hard, something…pleasant tightening his chest. He nearly laughed, the sensation tickling him. “Well, that being the case, you should know that I will take good care of you and the kid. Always.”

  Her eyes snapped back to him, her face slack. “Oh…I…you don’t have to. I wasn’t—”

  “I want to. Really.” The strange nice feeling washing over him was so euphoric and distracting that it took him a moment to realize something important. When he did, his heart sank. “Unless you don’t want me to.”

  “No! I mean, yes, Of course I do! I mean, I want you involved if you want to be involved—”

  He held back a laugh, not wanting to embarrass her any further. “I want to be involved.”

  “Good. Good. I’m glad.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.” He couldn’t help himself; he looked at her stomach again.

  His child…how about that?

  Before the silence between them could become awkward, he heard two people rush down the hallway. His sister and mother—he could tell by their footsteps.

  Hanes barely managed to restrain a groan. He looked at Frankie and gave her a weak smile. “I apologize in advance for my family’s nosiness. Dad always taught us to be truth-seekers and not conspiracy-starters, but he forgot to teach some of us about the etiquette of privacy.”

  Frankie giggled, a pretty sound. She shrugged and opened her mouth to speak, but of course, Hanes’s female kin were already in the front the room.

  “Is it true, Hanes?” his mother asked, hand clamping on her shoulder. She looked Frankie up and down. “Oh. Hello. I’m Mrs. Copper, Big Jim’s widower.”

  “Mom,” Hanes scolded, his voice coming out a bit too whiny for his liking. His face reddened, humiliation and discomfort clutching him like it used to when he was younger. “You need to stop introducing yourself like that. It’s morbid.”

  She scoffed and shrugged. “People usually ask. I’m just beating them to the punch. Speaking of which,” She turned to him fully, “do you have a little heir of your own, or is Gina blowing smoke up my ass?”

  “Mom!” Gina cried out from the hallway while Hanes slapped a hand over his face.

  He turned to Frankie to apologize when she stuttered out “You’re Big Jim’s son?”

  “One of them,” his mother answered for him. She squinted at Frankie. “You didn’t know?”

  “No,” Frankie breathed, head tilting back like she was just noticing the mansion for the first time. “Oh…”

  “I don’t live here,” Hanes said. He stepped out of his mother’s grip and gently reached out for Frankie’s arm. He smiled, nervous but happy. “I live in the trailer and all that. I just help out around here sometimes.”

  “Oh,” Frankie said, still looking stunned.

  Hanes desperately wanted to apologize again.

  “Well,” his mother said, sounding annoyed. “Is she pregnant or what?”

  Hanes managed to hold back an aggravated series of swear words, though the action resulted in a pounding ache beneath his skull.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Frankie didn’t know how to break it to Hanes when he announced that he would take her to their doctor that instant. She had already had an ultrasound in New York, and it was something she had to schedule weeks in advance. But Hanes was so excited, and he clearly wanted to get away from his mother—and Frankie just wasn’t that strong of a person to be brutally honest twice in one day.

  So she let him take her by the hand and guide her into one of the family’s many expensive cars. She had waved goodbye to Hanes’s mother and the girl—his sister? They did not wave back, though they did intensely observe the way her hand moved back and forth.

  God, she hoped they weren’t racists.

  “Look,” Hanes said, his fingers drumming over the wheel as he drove, “I’ll admit, I haven’t always been the most responsible person in the world, but I’m going to do right by this kid. Don’t you worry.”

  “I’m not,” she said. “But you really don’t have to do—”

  “I want to. I really do. You are not pressuring me. This is good, so I’m going to be good. That’s all I meant.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  Silence followed, save for the sounds of the car and Hanes’s fingers tapping the steering wheel.

  Frankie swallowed and stared out the window.

  “You’re…supposed to call ahead for these things, aren’t you?” Hanes asked.

  Surprised amusement bubbled within her, and she could stop the little laugh that escaped. “Yeah, yeah, usually.”

  “…Damn.”

  She laughed harder, turning to him. His sheepish smile—green eyes focused on the road but not fully—it all made affection warm her chest. He was so considerate, like he had been before. A kind, good man.

  Frankie patted his shoulder. “You’re still new to this. It’s alright.”

  “You could have said something.”

  “I was confident that you would figure it out.”

  He snorted, a chortle bursting out of him. “Is that right? Well, maybe you have a little too much confidence in me.”

  “Not at all. You did figure it out.”

  “True.” His lips curled upward, an odd smacking sound emanating from the inside of his cheek. He tapped the steering wheel faster. “So…is there any place you would like to g
o? I mean, we could go to the hospital and schedule that appointment. Or someplace…nicer.”

  Dating? Was that what he was implying? Frankie’s cheeks burned, uncertainty making her finicky. Unable to read him, she said, “You can drop me off at my hotel. And I can schedule an ultrasound there and call you afterward.”

  “Hotel?” His face twisted with disgust. “No. No baby mama of mine is sleeping in a hotel when the baby daddy has a perfectly good trail—” He cringed. “No, that’s not good enough either.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”