The Lucky One (Carolina Connections Book 3)

by Sylvie Stewart

  He entered me with a finger and I could hear him groan into my breast. “You’re so wet.”

  Of course I was! Did he not know what he was doing to me? Freaking Queen Elizabeth would be begging for him to take her at this point!

  “Jake,” I pleaded.

  He used his fingers and thumb to whip me up into a frenzy and I climaxed with a sound I was sure would make my next encounter with Mrs. Kwon more than a bit awkward. I was panting as I came down from my orgasm, and Jake finally released my hands. I immediately wrapped my arms around him and held him to me.

  “Bailey,” he said on a sigh, and I could feel it. I could feel everything in his heart in that one word. He loved me.

  I reveled in that moment for about five seconds before I grabbed his ass with both of my hands and rolled us over. He chuckled and let me straddle him, his rigid cock laying between my folds. I rubbed against him and his laugh turned into a moan. I rose up to take him inside me and felt his body stiffen. My eyes snapped to his. How could I possibly have misread this?

  He opened his mouth to speak and then dropped his head back to the pillow, chuckling again. “I was about to tell you I didn’t have a condom.”

  I snickered with relief. “The damage has been done, I’m afraid.” I shook my head. “You’ll just have to go without one.” His eyes got lazy again and he grasped his cock, allowing me to sink down onto him. I swear I saw his eyes roll back into his head as he groaned at the sensation. Then he took complete control and I let him. He thrust up into me and I met him stroke for stroke, throwing my head back when he hit just the right spot.

  We were both sweaty and breathless when he rolled us over and continued to thrust into me, settling himself on top of me and drawing my knees up. I wrapped my legs around him and melted completely.

  His jaw was clenched and his thrusts were hard, and I was just on the verge of another climax when he bent his head and bit my neck. That was it. Stick a fork in me—I was done. I came on another high-pitched squeal. I didn’t give one good goddamn how loud I was. Jake rode me while I rode my orgasm, and then I felt him release inside me, grunting into my neck as he let go.

  When he finally stilled, I felt like laughing. Every emotion hit me at once, but the predominant one was joy. I’d just made love for the first time in my life. We’d just made love. And it was like nothing else I’d ever experienced.

  I pulled Jake’s head up from its resting place in the crook of my neck and looked him in the eye. I brushed my fingers over his ridiculous cheekbones and placed a gentle kiss on his mouth before dropping my head back again. “I love you, Jake Beckett,” I finally whispered.

  He immediately dropped his forehead to my chest. “Thank Christ.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Confessions of a Tomboy

  JAKE

  Her tongue poked out to capture the last drop of ice cream from her spoon. Yeah, we had pizza and ice cream for dinner. Dr. Pretty Boy would probably not approve, but I didn’t give a fuck.

  “So,” Bailey said, setting down her bowl and picking up a throw pillow to tuck on her lap, “there are some things you should know before committing to me.”

  I smiled. There was nothing she could tell me to scare me off at this point. I moved closer to her on the couch, grabbing her feet and placing them on my lap. I had this overpowering need to always have my hands on some part of her.

  “I’m being serious here,” she scolded. I schooled my features appropriately. “Despite the impression I may have given a time or two, I’m not really a girl,” she said.

  As I had plenty of evidence to the contrary, I just raised my eyebrows and shot her a playful questioning look. Mark’s comment from weeks ago floated to the surface while I waited for her to continue.

  “What I mean is, the wedding and the pregnancy—those totally make me seem girly, but I am most decidedly not.” She gestured down to the Captain America t-shirt and workout pants she was wearing. “I dress in messy clothes, I don’t wear make-up, I drink beer.” She started ticking items off on her fingers. “I prefer football to any kind of chick show, I don’t like salad, and I don’t giggle. Ever.”

  I just smiled stupidly at her again. “Well, that’s good because I happen to like the easy access your work-out pants provide, I couldn’t give a shit about make-up or giggling, and I also prefer beer and football. The one thing you don’t get a pass on is the salad, though.” I gesture pointedly at her belly.

  “Oh, that’s another thing. I’m terrible with children. It’ll be up to you to keep this kid alive.”

  “Not a problem,” I responded, “but I think you might surprise yourself.” I let my hand wander up her leg toward my favorite spot on earth.

  She swatted at me, but she did it smiling.

  “And I never make my bed—ever.” She scrunched her eyebrows and continued, “Actually, I don’t know how relevant that one is. I don’t know very many girls who make their beds—with the exception of Fiona. I assume filthy-mouthed little woodland creatures come in to tidy her room and straighten her sheets every morning.”

  I laughed out loud at that one.

  “There’s more,” she confessed and then paused.

  “Go on,” I prompted, giving her legs a squeeze.

  “I burp,” she said. “And fart.” She covered her eyes.

  I tried like hell not to laugh. I pulled her hand off her eyes and leaned in, whispering, “Guess what? Me too.” She screwed her lips up to the side. “Bailey, everybody does. As long as you don’t actually do it on me, I think we’re good.”

  She looked at me very seriously. “I don’t know if I can promise you that. My body’s been doing all sorts of weird things lately and it seems I have very little control over it. The baby is steering the ship and he or she is a very, very bad driver.”

  “It’s a he,” I informed her. “They are notoriously bad drivers at this age.” I grinned at her.

  She grinned back. Then I got her another bowl of ice cream.

  It had been one long-ass day and we both passed out in her bed shortly after dinner. We didn’t have sex again, but that was okay. We had plenty more nights ahead of us. We did take a shower together in the morning, though, to make up for it, and I was going to insist we start every day that way from here on out.

  There was no official talk about me moving in, but I was thinking it was a given after the previous night. I didn’t want to sleep without her next to me, and Bailey seemed to feel the same.

  We kissed each other goodbye at our vehicles like a perfectly domestic little couple and I couldn’t keep the grin off my face on my drive to work. That was, until I pulled up outside the McGuire’s. Tension poured into my gut, but I pushed it aside. I had a job to do and a family to support. I wasn’t letting Tessa McGuire or anyone get in the way of that.

  I opened the gate to the back yard and saw three of my crew already setting up. A glance around the yard and deck revealed absolutely no sign of the little hustler. I felt myself relax. Jax had really come through, God bless him. I joined the crew and we got down to business.

  When I returned to Bailey’s that evening, packed bag in hand—I wasn’t about to hide my intentions—I was surprised to see her at the kitchen table with Rocco. I walked over and she got up to give me a kiss, noting my surprise.

  “Nate and Laney both had to work late, so I volunteered to hang out with Rocco,” she explained.

  I raised my eyebrows and she scowled at me. That just made me laugh.

  “Don’t make me give you the same treatment I give your stupid brother,” she scolded.

  “My mom said it’s not nice to call people stupid,” Rocco said.

  I covered my laugh.

  Bailey sat back down. “She’s absolutely right. I shouldn’t have said that about Mark.” She gave me the finger behind Rocco’s back.

  Still smiling, I asked, “What are you guys working on?”

  Rocco looked up at me. “Aunt Bailey’s teaching me how to paint.”


  I leaned over and saw several paint-covered papers along with tubes of paints littering the space between Bailey and Rocco.

  “Wow, you’re pretty lucky. You know your aunt is an awesome artist?”

  “I know,” he responded. “She’s gonna be famous one day, and then I can say she taught me how to make cool pictures.” He nodded and then poked his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration.

  I looked at Bailey but her attention was focused solely on her nephew. “You’re doing awesome,” she said, pointing out a part he’d just painted. “You totally got what I was telling you before, dude.”

  I bent down and kissed Bailey on the head and then went to shower. When I came out twenty minutes later, it was to a very different scene. Rocco was standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed.

  “Because it’s almost dinner time,” Bailey was saying, her own arms crossed.

  “But you let me have Pop-Tarts every day when you were staying at my house,” he pouted. “You just said not to tell anyone. And I promise I won’t tell anyone this time either.”

  Bailey shot me a glance that silently promised I’d be sleeping alone tonight if I dared to smile at that one.

  “That may be so, but the answer is still no.”

  “You were a lot more fun last time,” he said.

  “Rocco,” I interjected, but Bailey waved me off.

  “I’m sorry you’re not having any fun here, but I’m not letting you ruin your dinner and that’s final.” She turned to the counter where she had been preparing said dinner.

  “I didn’t say I wasn’t having any fun,” Rocco mumbled and went back to the table where his paintings lay.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Bailey smile slyly. I approached her and wrapped my arms around her from behind. “Look at you being a hard-ass. It’s totally hot,” I teased.

  “It’s called being a parent…I think.” She paused and then shrugged. “At any rate, I figured I could use the practice.”

  “Well, I, for one,” I paused and kissed the back of her neck—she shivered as I continued, “am damn impressed.”

  She turned in my arms. “Maybe I should try bossing you around sometime.” She raised an eyebrow and grinned wickedly.

  “Yes, ma’am.” I leaned in and gave her a proper kiss. Well, as proper as I could get with a six-year-old in the room. But I supposed we’d better get used to that.

  I couldn’t wait.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Redemption

  JAKE

  “You got a minute?”

  “For you? I’ve got all the minutes.” My mom smiled up at me and patted the chair beside her. Her dark hair was styled in long waves, and eyes the same color as mine flashed back at me.

  I sat and leaned forward, elbows to my knees. I gave her a sidelong glance and let out a breath.

  She chuckled and earned herself a playful glare.

  “Jake,” she prompted, a knowing grin on her face.

  I drew in a deep breath. “I owe you an apology.”

  Her head tilted sharply.

  “A big one.”

  This had not been what she’d expected me to say. I knew that, but I needed to tell her now. Before.

  She shook her head, still confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I never should have left. It was selfish and cowardly, and just plain wrong. And I’m so sorry, Mom.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “Jake, sweetie, I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about.”

  My eyes shot to hers again. “After high school. When I ditched you and Mark.”

  Understanding dawned and her confused expression turned sad. Fuck, I knew that look well and I hated seeing it on her. She’d worn it a lot when Mark and I had been growing up. When the asshole lived with us. And I knew I’d been the cause of a lot of her pain, even if it had been indirectly.

  “Jake…” she began, but I cut her off.

  “No, Mom. This apology is long overdue, and you deserve it. If I had stayed I could have gotten a job and helped you out. I could have helped Mark—let him go off to college somewhere. And, I don’t know, maybe I could have made the old man leave before he did. I let you down, and I want you to know that I’m going to make it up to you.”

  “You know it’s not the child’s responsibility to care for the parent.” She rubbed my arm in comfort I didn’t deserve.

  I nodded. “I do, but our situation was different.” I didn’t want to remind her of her years of depression, especially since life was so much brighter for her now. But that should have compelled me all the more to stay.

  She just shook her head. “Jake, do you think I wanted you to stay?”

  I looked at her sharply. I didn’t understand her question.

  She smiled. “I mean, of course I loved—and still love—having you at home, but I wanted you to find your own way in the world. If you had stayed, you would have become bitter and angry.”

  I huffed out a breath. She was not wrong.

  “Your father,” she began and then paused. “Your father was good at making you feel like you were never good enough. That you’d never be good enough. No mother wants that for her child. No parent should ever want that for their child. I should have fought for you then, but I didn’t.” She shrugged sadly.

  I shook my head. She was trying to let me off the hook. But it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t have it in her back then to fight for herself, let alone anyone else. “Please don’t. I never blamed you, not for a second. I could have stayed and made it work. Or, at the very least, I could have come back sooner.”

  “I was happy for you when you left. I wanted you to get a chance to be your own man.” She gestured to me with both hands. “And look how well you turned out.”

  I let out a sharp laugh. “You’re just biased. And I still want to make it up to you in any way I can.”

  “I’m not biased.” She squeezed my arm. “Well, not much. You’re a good man, Jake. You’re here now and that’s what counts. If you feel like you have something to atone for, just be the wonderful father and husband I know you will be. That’s more than enough.” She gestured to doors of the courthouse where the most beautiful girl in the world stood looking around.

  For me.

  I let that settle into my chest nice and deep.

  I took Bailey in from head to toe. Simple ivory sweater-dress, tan heels. Nothing too fancy but absolutely perfect. Her hair was down and her blue eyes finally caught mine as I stood. She stepped forward and I moved to close the space between us.

  “Hey, Irish.” My eyes took in every feature, finally landing on her lips where I then placed my own. She smiled against my mouth.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she said once she’d pulled back.

  “You’d better believe it.”

  “You look beautiful,” my mom told her.

  Bailey looked down self-consciously. “You think?” She smoothed a hand over her small baby bump. “I feel like I’m smuggling contraband in this dress.”

  My mom laughed at that and I put my hand over Bailey’s. “You look perfect.”

  “I considered changing into maternity jeans and a sweater at the last minute, but, what the hell—you only get married once, right?”

  Damn straight.

  I wouldn’t have cared if she’d shown up in flannel pajamas. It hadn’t been easy getting her to this point. She’d insisted living together was good enough, but I wanted her to be mine. For good. So I’d worn her down and gotten her to agree to be my wife.

  My wife. Crazy.

  This had ingratiated me to her father to a degree that he no longer wanted to do awful things to me. I was considering it a huge win.

  And since I’d gotten my way and Bailey had agreed to tolerate me as her ball and chain, I’d left the rest up to her. She chose a very simple ceremony at the courthouse with just our parents. She said she didn’t need a room full of friends and family to be there when she promised herself to me
. Just the people who’d brought us into this world and the little one we’d be welcoming into it as well.

  Of course, this had not gone down well with anyone else. Fiona and Laney had pleaded and cajoled, Mark and Nate had both protested, and a long list of other people had given their two cents. But the bottom line was my stubborn girl was getting what she wanted and I couldn’t be happier giving it to her. Look at me. I was getting really good at this.

  “Sweetheart, you forgot your purse.” Erin came up beside Bailey and handed her a small, sparkly handbag. Bailey growled.

  “I told her I didn’t want that damn thing.” I didn’t have to ask who her was.

  “Fine, I’ll hold it for you and you can have it back when we get to the party,” Erin replied.

  We may have been able to talk everyone into staying away from the courthouse, but there was no way they were letting us get married without at least some sort of accompanying celebration. So Fiona and Laney had channeled all their wedding-fueled bitterness into planning an “after-party” at Erin and Riordan’s house. Casual, just like my girl, but everyone who wanted to would get the chance to celebrate with us, and Bailey could remain sane in the process. It was a win-win.

  Riordan pulled Bailey aside and my mom took the opportunity to straighten my tie and give me a hug. When I pulled back I deliberately gave her a long look so she’d feel everything I wanted her to know. “Thanks, Mom.”

  “You’re very welcome, sweetie.” She smiled.

  “Well, let’s get this show on the road!” Riordan boomed, and it didn’t escape my attention that he was wiping a tear from his eye. Bailey held his other hand and we all walked toward the chambers where Bailey Murphy, the girl I never saw coming, would promise to make me a husband, a father, and the luckiest son of a bitch there ever was.