The Lucky One (Carolina Connections Book 3)

by Sylvie Stewart

  The only upside, as I could see it, was that the lawsuit trumped the pregnancy news, so the guys agreed to keep their mouths shut for the time being. That didn’t deter Nate from throwing me daggers every few minutes, however. I knew it only gave Bailey and me a few hours’ reprieve, but I’d take it. The last thing we needed right now was for Fiona and Laney to incite baby-fueled pandemonium in the middle of Jake’s.

  I could see Bailey temporarily relax now that her focus was reassigned to finding a solution to a new problem. That would not last long once she discovered the reason for Mark’s legal entanglement, though. Yup, we were up shit’s creek and we’d been beaten to a bloody pulp by the paddle.

  “Alright, now that everybody is here, can you tell us what the hell this is all about?” Nate asked.

  “Wait, if you and Laney are both here, where is Rocco?” I was kind of proud of myself for immediately thinking about the kid’s wellbeing. I figured this boded well for my impending state of fatherhood.

  Laney waved me aside. “He’s with Charlotte. Now, what’s going on?”

  I saw Fiona biting her lip as she sat next to Mark. I figured she must know something, given that she practically lived with Mark and had surely seen his abused hand after its meeting with Anton’s face.

  Mark opened the envelope, reading it over for what I guessed was the tenth time. He then handed it to me, seemingly unable to figure out what to say. I’d already read it once, but I still found myself wincing as I skimmed it again.

  “So, Mark kind of punched this guy—who completely deserved it, by the way—and now the asshole is suing him for damages. If Mark doesn’t settle, then the douchebag is filing criminal charges.”

  Questions came from all sides.

  “What kind of damages?” asked Fiona.

  “How much? Wait, when did this happen?” Nate chimed in.

  “Who was this asshole and how did I not know about this?” Bailey asked.

  Mark and I looked at each other and silently agreed to answer the easier questions first—a.k.a. the questions that wouldn’t get us stabbed.

  Mark sighed and I explained, “He’s seeking compensatory damages for property loss, emotional distress, and loss of income.”

  “What the fuck? Who is this pussy?” came a voice from behind me. I turned to find Gavin standing there, beer in hand.

  “Who invited you?” Mark asked.

  Gavin pulled up a stool, ignoring the implied insult.

  “Trey called. I wasn’t about to miss this. Congrats, by the way.” He gave a sly grin and threw a chin out to Bailey. Her face turned nineteen shades of purple as she attempted to maintain her cool and not embed her glass in his skull.

  “Huh?” Laney said, looking from Gavin to Bailey.

  I cut in, hoping like hell for distraction. “Unfortunately, the amount is $50,000.”

  “What the fuck?!” Nate and Gavin exclaimed in unison.

  Mark’s forehead hit the table and Fiona rubbed his back. “It’ll be okay. This is all a mistake. I’ll call my dad’s lawyer and we’ll get it sorted out.”

  His muffled voice came from under the table. “Thanks, Shortcake, but I don’t think it’s gonna be that easy.” He brought his head up again and grabbed his beer glass with both hands. “I did it. I hit the guy, and there were witnesses.”

  “Shit,” came the refrain from around the table.

  “But these claims have got to be bullshit,” insisted Gavin. “I mean who suffers ‘emotional distress’ from a punch? Not to mention the other stuff. This guy’s just out to scam you.”

  “I’m afraid it’s probably more than that,” I muttered, drawing Bailey’s attention.

  “More than money, you mean?” she asked. “What else could it be?” Her gazed passed back and forth between Mark and me.

  Mark closed one eye as if to shield himself from what was coming. “Um, pride?”

  Bailey’s face was the picture of suspicion as she sat up straight on her barstool. “I’m only going to ask this one more time and I want a straight answer. Who. Did. You. Punch?”

  Mark and I looked at each other one last time before we both gave it up.

  “Anton.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Wild Horses

  BAILEY

  Mother fucking Anton. If the gasps and subsequent curses from Laney and Fiona were anything to go by, I’d say we were all in agreement that the guy definitely deserved a beat-down. But why did it have to be from my friend, and why did he have to get in such deep shit for it? Mark, you big, dumb, wonderful dufus. If I’d known what he was going to do—hell, I should have known—I would have warned him. Anton would never take humiliation lying down.

  “Who the hell is Anton?” Gavin asked.

  “Bailey’s asshole ex-boyfriend and the reason condom factories exist. In fact, they owe the world an apology for not stepping in on that one in the first place,” replied Fiona.

  I put my head in my hands. Damn, I was the indirect cause of a shitload of drama these days!

  “Mark, I can’t believe you beat him up,” I wailed.

  “He didn’t beat him up,” Jake interjected. “He just punched him one time in the face—once. And then we may have stepped on his glasses.” His voice trailed off and his beer glass was apparently super fascinating all of a sudden. I should have known.

  “You were there too?!”

  “I plead the fifth on the grounds that I may incriminate myself.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you Beckett boys?!”

  Truthfully, nothing was wrong with them. Absolutely nothing. I felt myself start to tear up and willed the damn hormones to give me five fucking minutes.

  “If somebody had told me about this asshole, I would have taken care of him before now,” Nate said pointedly. “How did I not know about this guy?” He looked almost hurt.

  I just shook my head, unable to deal with any more emotion. “Laney can fill you in.” I flicked my eyes to her. “I absolve you of the girl-code gag order or whatever it’s called. Go forth and gossip,” I told her.

  Fiona nodded and Gavin just drank his beer, reading the lawyer’s letter over Jake’s shoulder.

  “So, besides the glasses and maybe a black eye, what’s with the rest of this? I mean, can’t you just cut him a check for some new glasses and call it a day?”

  I took a sip of my soda. “I have a feeling it won’t be nearly that easy.” Fucking Anton.

  Fiona pulled her phone from her fancy purse. “I’m on it. We’ll have that twatface begging for mercy when we’re done with him.”

  “Thanks, Shortcake—my delicate flower, you,” Mark said, kissing her cheek. She winked at him and tapped at her phone.

  By the time Fiona and Mark got off the phone with her family’s lawyer, I was exhausted. So I did something I’d probably regret later and let Jake take me home. My eyelids dropped as soon as his tires hit the highway and the next thing I knew, I was being carried into my house. Carried. As in, the man picked me up in his arms like an oversized child and carried me to my room.

  “Jake,” I tried to protest but I was shushed.

  “Do you need anything before bed? Something to drink, maybe? Are you supposed to be taking vitamins?”

  I smiled a little at his concern. “I take vitamins in the morning. I’m okay, but I need to get ready for bed.”

  “Okay.” He took me into the bathroom and set me down. I looked up at him expectantly. He just held my gaze.

  “Um, Jake. I need to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth.”

  “Got an extra toothbrush?”

  I eyed him warily as he stayed put. “Probably in one of the drawers. Help yourself…when I’m done,” I prompted, shifting my eyes meaningfully to the door.

  “I don’t mind. The door to the toilet closes.” He moved to the counter and started opening drawers.

  “I mind.”

  “Why?” He looked back at me as if I’d just told him I eat my own hair.

  “I don�
��t want you to hear me pee.”

  He laughed, finally unearthing a pink toothbrush. There was a reason it was still in its packaging. He tore it open. “Hey, Bailey, guess what.”

  “What?”

  “Everybody pees.”

  “I think it’s Everybody Poops,” I said, citing the famous book.

  “Yeah, that too. Guess what else.”

  “What?” I was terrified to ask.

  “I’ve seen you naked, I’ve been inside you, and you’re pregnant with my baby. I think I can brush my teeth while you pee behind a closed door.”

  Well, he did have a point there.

  I huffed so he’d know I was put out, but I let him stay.

  Once we were snuggled in bed together, I remembered how nice it was to have his warm body next to mine. I couldn’t help it, I burrowed in like a hamster or one of those meerkats. Once I had sufficiently plastered myself to as much of Jake’s body as I could access, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

  “Rise and shine, Irish,” a deep voice beckoned as I drifted into consciousness. My nose twitched as the scent of coffee invaded my senses. Ahhh. I finally opened my eyes and decided right then and there that I should keep a camera handy at all times around this man. There stood Jake, in only his boxer briefs, with two cups of coffee and a ridiculously sweet smile. His dark hair was mussed and his face was covered in a sexy scruff. I was dying to feel it against my skin.

  I couldn’t help but smile back. “Good morning.” I stretched my arms above my head. I’d slept like the dead and had the best night’s sleep in, well, possibly ever. Apparently, having a Jake to lounge on promotes healthy sleep habits. I mewled as I stretched again, “What time is it?”

  “Nine-thirty.”

  I shot up in bed, immediately sending my stomach lurching, all thoughts of sexy-coffee-scruffy-nakedness vanishing instantly.

  “Whoa, take it easy.” Jake tried to push me back to the pillow, but it was too late. I jumped from the bed and ran to the bathroom, losing the contents of my stomach in the toilet. Pregnancy is just so glamorous.

  I heard him set the mugs on the counter and then felt his hand on my back, rubbing circles over my spine. This was so embarrassing.

  “Can I do anything?” he asked.

  “If you could un-impregnate me, that would be awesome. Thanks.”

  He chuckled. “Can I do anything else for you?”

  “Water, maybe? Oh, and can you take the coffee away? Sadly, I think the smell might make me puke again.”

  He kissed the top of my head and left me to die in peace, my face in the toilet.

  I cleaned myself up and was brushing my teeth when Jake returned with a glass of water and some crackers. He held them up. “I thought these might help.” He shrugged and I wanted to hug him.

  I mumbled my thanks through the toothbrush and then spit and rinsed, feeling a bit better. “I have to get to work. And isn’t that where you should be too? Either that or helping Mark?”

  He tilted his head in question. “Uh, no.”

  I mirrored his look.

  “Bailey, we have the doctor’s appointment in thirty minutes.”

  “Oh, shit!” I scrambled about, not sure what to do first.

  Jake stepped around me and opened the shower door. He turned the tap and then disappeared into the bedroom.

  Right. Shower.

  Should I lock the bathroom door? He still needed to get ready too. But then he’d come in and see me naked through the shower door. Why in God’s name did I have a clear door and not one of those damn curtains?!

  Shit. What was I doing? What were we doing? Gah!

  There was nothing for it, so I stripped down and slid under the pulsing stream of hot water. Damn, that felt good. The water beat down on me and I closed my eyes, getting lost for a moment. The next thing I knew, a draft of cool air blew in as Jake opened the shower door and stepped in. Bare ass naked. I immediately tried to cover myself with my hands, and I squealed—actually squealed, you know, like a pig.

  “What?” Jake asked, calm as can be, making zero attempt to cover his…anything.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, still trying to figure out how to cover two boobs and one hoo-ha with only two hands.

  “Taking a shower. We have to leave in ten minutes.” He began scrubbing his muscular chest with a bar of soap.

  My knees threatened to give out on me. It occurred to me that if I did happen to collapse onto my face, the coverage problem would be solved. Of course, then I’d have a bump on my head and I’d have to use both hands to conceal my ass.

  “Time’s a wastin’, Irish,” Jake said as he set the soap on the ledge and brought his lathered hands to my belly, covering me in soap and circling his large hands around to my back. He drew me in closer as he caressed the skin of my lower back and moved right down to my ass, cupping both cheeks.

  I sort of forgot why him being in the shower was in any way troublesome as my arms found their way around his waist and I pressed in. I could feel his hard cock against my belly and I might have moaned a bit.

  “As much as I’d love to stay in this shower with you all day, we’ll have to save playtime for later.” He drew back and placed a gentle—and way too brief—kiss on my lips, before quickly wetting and washing his hair. Coming to my senses, I did the same, and soon we were drying off, sneaking looks at each other in the process.

  I was in so much trouble.

  “If you’ll just place your feet in the stirrups, we’ll get started.”

  The only thing more embarrassing than “spreading them” for a glove-wearing stranger is “spreading them” for an attractive, male glove-wearing stranger. Add your kind-of boyfriend/baby daddy to the audience and we go straight past embarrassment and right into utter mortification with a side of just kill me now.

  Idiot me—when I’d booked the appointment with Dr. Jamie Sutton, I’d assumed the good doctor was female. I was mistaken. Not only was Dr. Sutton very male, he was also very hot. Not ideal, I can assure you.

  I had practically seen Jake’s blood pressure escalate when Dr. Sutton had walked in the room, and there was no indication it was headed down anytime soon. Every time the doctor asked me a question that was at all personal—and let’s face it, all of them were when it came to pregnancy—Jake just grunted or scoffed. It was getting pretty ridiculous. I had to admit, though, the spark of jealousy did make me grin a little on the inside.

  Thus far, we’d talked about vitamins and diet, and Dr. Sutton had asked all sorts of questions about my medical history. My height and weight had been recorded and my vitals were officially on record. The doctor had even calmed me after my near freak-out when I recalled my ill-advised night of drinking a couple weeks back—I left out the drunk texting part. He reassured me that as long as I didn’t do it again, it wasn’t likely to be a problem.

  Then, it was the moment of truth. Or, in my case, the moment of humiliation. I scooted my butt down as far as I could on the damn table and put my socked feet in the cursed stirrups. My knees, however, remained locked together and completely covered by a sheet. Jake growled, and I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the doctor grinned, hiding it as well as he could by looking down. Hmm. Perhaps Jake wasn’t the first psycho father-to-be this man had encountered.

  “Now, Bailey, we’ll get this exam over as quickly as possible and then we can move on to any questions you may have.” I didn’t miss the stress he put on my name, which was clearly not meant as reassurance to me, but to my frothing-at-the-mouth cohort.

  I closed my eyes and spread ‘em for the doctor to proceed, and he did so with great speed. Thank God. When he was done, he told me to scoot back up on the table while the sheets were rearranged so only my belly and the very top of my pubic area were exposed. Only then did I chance another look at Jake.

  His hands were clenched and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. I fought hard against rolling my eyes. Did he think this was fun for me? Did he honestly think I w
as going to go home and call up Fiona and Laney about this? “Hey girls, there’s this hot doctor giving out pelvic exams downtown—grab your speculum and let’s go!” I huffed at the thought.

  “Jake, you may want to come closer for this.” Dr. Sutton interrupted my thoughts. He was holding a tube of something in his hand. “I’m going to spread this gel on your stomach and we’ll see if we can find a heartbeat. It’s still a bit early—you’re only nine weeks—but we may get lucky.” He proceeded to coat my belly with what felt like Aloe vera and then he picked up an instrument resembling some kind of electric shaver. “This is a fetal Doppler,” he explained.

  I felt Jake approach as Dr. Sutton ran the instrument over my lower stomach, using more pressure than I anticipated. All I heard was white noise from the attached machine. Then, when the doctor brought the device around to the lowest part of my left side, the machine erupted in a series of incredibly fast beats, almost like the pounding of wild horse hooves. The doctor nodded.

  I looked to Jake.

  His eyes found mine and we both smiled like idiots.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Domestic Looks Pretty Good on Me

  JAKE

  Holy shit.

  I suddenly forgot all about my brother’s lawsuit and the damn pretty-boy who’d been putting his hands all over my girl. Instead, my ears were flooded with the sound of a tiny heart beating a mile a minute. My eyes were glued to Bailey, who looked just as awestruck as I felt.

  We were having a baby.

  And, by the sounds of it, he was as strong as an ox.

  “Is it supposed to be so fast?” I asked Dr. Dawson’s Creek.

  He nodded and smiled. “Perfectly normal. Fetal heart rates are a lot faster than people assume.”

  “We still have a lot to learn,” Bailey said, now gazing at her still-flat stomach. The doctor removed the instrument and turned off the machine. The room was suddenly too quiet. I wanted to have that heartbeat on repeat from this moment until that kid was born.