Baby Daddy

by Kendall Ryan

  “What about after you left home?” I ask.

  “I’ve mostly kept to having fish off and on over the years. I’ve always thought it might be cool to have a dog—to take on hikes, camping, things like that—but I’ve never had the time to devote all the attention they need, and it would be cruel to get one just to ignore it since I’m at the office so much.” He looks pensive, almost brooding for a moment. Then he says, “Anyway, it’s your turn now.”

  “Hmm. Never have I ever . . .” I ponder briefly. “Been outside the United States.”

  His eyebrows wing up. “What, seriously?”

  “Yep. So, did you go abroad on business trips? Or family vacations?”

  He shakes his head. “For work, I mostly deal with domestic companies. And my family . . . was never one for doing things together.”

  “Oh.” I study the carpet for a minute, feeling a tiny bit like a jerk. I might have grown up without a father, but I’ve always been close with Mom. “Then what was the occasion for traveling?”

  “After college and before I started at Dad’s company, my buddy Jesse and I toured Europe.” He takes a swig of vodka, draining half the tiny bottle.

  “That’s amazing. What was your favorite part?”

  “I was probably too young to appreciate the rich history and culture back then, but we backpacked across France and Italy, so I have a lot of good memories. There are so many ancient and beautiful sites; I’d love to go back someday.”

  I don’t know how to respond. It would be fun to go with you is totally off-limits, even if I wanted to, which I try to convince myself I don’t. So I end up replying, “That sounds really cool. Your turn again.”

  “I guess it is, huh?” He pauses to stretch, his back popping quietly. “Okay. Never have I ever . . . seen Titanic.”

  “Swing and a miss,” I reply cheerfully. “I never saw that movie either.” Which means no booze for me, at least until Emmett’s next turn.

  He raises his arms like he’s begging the ceiling for mercy. “Oh, come on. Fine. Give me your best shot.”

  “Never have I ever eaten sushi.” I stick the very tip of my tongue out to tease him. I think the liquor is already going to my head.

  “No way.” He gapes at me. “Now you’re just fucking with me. Seriously, never? Okay, next time we go out, I’m taking you to my favorite sushi bar.”

  “Deal.” I’ve given up trying to stop him inviting me on date-like activities. And to be honest . . . I don’t want to stop. I like hanging out together too much. Grinning at him, I tease, “Don’t forget your drink.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He slugs back the remaining vodka and tosses the empty bottle in the trash. “In your defense, I didn’t develop a taste for sushi until I was almost thirty.”

  “So, there’s still time for me?”

  “Yes, young grasshopper. Now, my turn again.” He gives me an evil smirk. “You’re a literary type, so . . . never have I ever tried to write a novel.”

  I glare at him and push at his firm bicep. “Hey, that’s playing dirty.”

  He spreads his hands in a gesture of self-defense. “That’s how the game works, baby. Feel free to use every fact you know about me too. So, what was your novel about and where can I buy it?”

  “It was a children’s book, and you can’t. I abandoned it when I realized it sucked.” I drain my whiskey and toss the bottle.

  He gives me a sympathetic look. “I’m sure you were just being too hard on yourself.”

  “No, the idea really was dumb.” I shake my head with a wry laugh. “Back to the game. Since you’re pulling out all the stops here, never have I ever slept with a woman.”

  “Fuck.” He unscrews another bottle of vodka and takes a drink. “You’re kicking my ass here.”

  “Quit whining, you’ve only drunk one more time than me. And what, are you saying I’m boring? Because there’s too many things I haven’t done?” I pretend to pout.

  “I would never.” He puts his hand right over my heart, his features softening. “I just need to find the right questions to ask.” Then he flashes me a smile. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me.”

  “Mr. Booty Call, I can take advantage of you whenever I want. I don’t need help from alcohol.” I give him a playful, feather-light punch in the shoulder.

  “You just want me for my cum.”

  It’s the stupidest joke, and I haven’t drunk nearly enough to get this goofy yet, but I can’t stop giggling until I’m slumped on the bed with aching sides.

  He laughs too and leans against the headboard with his vodka. “Enjoy your victory while it lasts. I’ll beat you next round.”

  We play for another hour, forgetting about the liquor, but just to continue the conversation. The rest of his questions all zero in on me like he’s known me forever, and I end up only one point behind him. If my brain weren’t so fuzzy from the alcohol, I might find it strange that two people well into their thirties needed to use the guise of a drinking game to learn more about each other, but I try not to focus on things like that with Emmett. I try to remind myself to just enjoy the here and now.

  We snuggle under the covers again, and this time, my tension has vanished. I should be more distressed by exactly how much I like sharing a bed with Emmett. But I can’t bring myself to be upset when I’m cuddled up to him like this, safe in his warm, strong arms.

  I promise myself that I’ll freak out in the morning, and drift off into a peaceful sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Emmett

  I wake to the unwelcome racket of someone knocking energetically on the door. Jenna sits up beside me, blinking blearily, her hair disheveled in an adorable way that makes me want to memorize how she looks right now.

  “Huh?” she mumbles.

  I couldn’t agree more. At another flurry of brisk knocks, I groan aloud, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Coming, coming. Just a damn minute.”

  I trudge over and open the door to Aubrey, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She gives the both of us a sappy smile, as if to coo, Aww, how cute. “Good morning, you two,” she chirps.

  I almost growl What do you want? and immediately wonder why I’m in such a shitty mood today. I manage a reasonably friendly sounding “What’s up?” instead.

  “The rest of the family was thinking about going out for brunch before everyone heads back home,” Aubrey says. “Want to join us?”

  Brunch? What time is it? I squint at the clock. Whoa, it’s almost ten thirty. I was sleeping so deeply, I didn’t even hear my alarm. Good thing Aubrey came by or we’d miss our checkout time.

  Jenna, still in her pajamas, pads up behind me. “I’m up for it if you are, Emmett.”

  The prospect of one last hangout with my family should sound wonderful, but for some reason, I’d rather eat a bug than have brunch while my family coos all over Jenna. I shake my head. “I’m afraid we should leave soon.”

  “Leave? Already?” Aubrey protests. “But—”

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly, interrupting her. “I’m worried about how things are going back at the office.”

  Jenna frowns, clearly disappointed, but nods in acceptance. She knows the business world never rests.

  “I’m sure they can survive a few more hours without you. You won’t get back to the city until afternoon anyway, so why not just take the whole day off?” Aubrey argues.

  “I’m telling you I can’t,” I snap. Shit, that came out way harsher than I intended. I try to soften my tone with a joke. “Wish I could, but you know what Dad always said about upper management . . . couldn’t pour sand out of a boot with instructions written on the heel.”

  “All right, if you insist.” Aubrey’s reply is slow and doubtful. “At least grab some of the free breakfast downstairs. It’s been picked over pretty thoroughly, but I think I saw some muffins and yogurt left.”

  “We’ll do that.” I re
ach for the doorknob.

  Aubrey adds, “It’s been great seeing you. Hopefully we can do it again soon . . . and feel free to bring Jenna with you.” She winks.

  I grit my teeth. “Definitely. I’ll call you.” I shut the door before she can say anything else.

  I’m acting like a total dick. I’ll have to apologize later or face my sister’s patented cold shoulder. I should probably apologize to Jenna too for depriving her of a nice brunch; she couldn’t exactly stay without me, since I’m her ride. But right now, all I can focus on is the desperate need to get the hell out of here.

  I have no idea why I’m so edgy. In the light of day, it all seems suddenly overwhelming—how great spending time with Jenna has been, how much my whole family loves her, how intense last night was, everything about this trip. Which doesn’t make any sense . . . those should have all been good things. And they were at the time, but now they scrape and scratch at me like sandpaper.

  We shower in a hurry and get dressed, pack our suitcases, eat quickly and quietly, and are soon on our way. In the car, Jenna shoots me quick sidelong glances every few minutes, like she’s trying to keep an eye on a wild animal without provoking it.

  After almost half an hour, she finally asks, “Did I . . . do something wrong?”

  Guilt twinges in my stomach. Shit, I’ve freaked her out. I shouldn’t let my inexplicable grouchiness poison the air like that. “No, you’re fine,” I quickly reassure her. “I just need to get back to the city.”

  “I see,” she says softly. Then she turns away to look out the passenger window.

  We drive on in silence so tense it hurts, buildings and trees and fields whipping past. Goddammit. My hands clench white-knuckled on the steering wheel. I practically chewed off my own leg to get away from the party, but now that we’re away, something in me regrets it. Why am I acting like this—feeling like this? Why can’t I figure out what I want?

  Well . . . I steal a glance at Jenna. I know at least one thing I want. But I can’t have it. That wasn’t our deal.

  I do my best to remind myself that as fun as Jenna is, all of this is only temporary. Our lives and goals are way too different. We can’t change just because we’ve had a few weeks of fun. It’s impossible.

  But right now, for the life of me, I can’t remember exactly why it’s impossible.

  Jenna shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “Um . . . your family is great.”

  It’s obvious she’s trying to make conversation, and that I need to throw her a bone or else this suffocating atmosphere might kill us. But it’s hard when my family’s reaction to her is part of what’s bothering me.

  “Yeah, they are.” My voice comes out brusquer than I intended, and I clear my throat. “I mean, my parents were totally dysfunctional, but as adults, my brother, sister, and I are really close.”

  And both of them are married, in love, with kids. The goddamn poster children for wedded bliss. Which makes me wonder, for the thousandth time, just what the hell went wrong with me.

  “Listen,” Jenna says, and her firm tone makes me look at her—and then right back to the road because I can’t deal with her penetrating gaze. “You’ve been acting weird ever since we got up this morning. Are you okay? Do you still want to do this?”

  “Of course I do.” The answer leaps from my mouth whip-quick. I’ve never wanted anything more. Then I catch myself. I can’t be too eager, too raw with her. Trying to recover, to convince myself as much as her, I quip, “Fuck a gorgeous woman for fun? What man wouldn’t be interested in that? I don’t even have to buy you dinner first. Well, I offer to take you to dinner most times, at least.”

  Her lovely features turn down subtly. She swallows, opens and closes her mouth, then mutters, “Right. Okay. Just wanted to make sure.”

  Her strained expression tightens further. She’s blinking slightly faster than before. Even with my focus on the road, I can tell she’s upset, and the guilty knowledge knifes deep into my gut.

  Fuck, I didn’t want to hurt her. That’s the last thing I would ever want. But I don’t even understand what I said wrong. From the moment we met, she’s been dead set on keeping things temporary, casual, no strings attached. A transaction with a strict expiration date, not a relationship. So, isn’t a fuck buddy exactly what she was after?

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I say, fumbling, hating that I’ve upset her.

  “It’s fine. You didn’t say anything wrong.” Jenna’s voice is low, somehow sharp and thick at the same time. She’s looking away from me again, out the window.

  I wish I could at least see her face to get a hint of her feelings. I’m blundering around in the dark here, so I start rambling. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t like buying you dinner. I actually really enjoy—”

  What the fuck? Of all the words in the English language I could have said, why did my useless brain pick something so stupid? I just want to touch her, but my hands are stuck and I feel like I can’t.

  She mercifully cuts me off. “I said it’s fine. We’re still on for next week, right?”

  “Yeah,” I grumble. It’s clearly not fine. But what’s equally clear is that Jenna doesn’t want to discuss it anymore. If she says she’s okay, what more can I do other than drop it? And a cowardly, shameful part of me is grateful for the reprieve, because prying into her feelings would mean prying into my own too.

  I check the car clock. We still have an hour and a half until we’re back in the city and I can drop her off. Fuck, this is going to be a long, awkward drive home.

  Despite how everything suddenly went to hell today . . . I almost don’t even want to go back to that dark, cold penthouse of mine, when I know Jenna won’t be there with me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jenna

  It’s time. Standing in front of my bathroom sink after a long day at work, I wince and inject my second trigger shot. Starting in twenty-four hours, I’ll need to fuck Emmett as much as humanly possible. I already scheduled a meeting with him but I’m feeling antsy, so I decide to triple-check.

  As I reach for my phone, though, it rings on its own. A call from Emmett. Surprised, I pick up and say, “Hello?”

  “Hi, Jenna. I’m afraid something’s come up at work.”

  My heart jumps into my throat. “What? What do you mean?”

  “I have to go on a last-minute business trip to New York. I fly out tomorrow at noon and come back in three days.”

  “But that’s exactly when I’m ovulating.” I don’t believe this. He can’t just skip town now.

  He sighs in a rush of static. “I know. I’m really sorry. I called you as soon as I could get a moment away. We only realized just this afternoon that there was a problem with one of our distributors, and I have to go straighten it out in person.”

  “Shit,” I grumble. I try to think of a way around this but can’t come up with anything.

  He’s been acting strange ever since the wedding. Well, that’s not true. The wedding, the reception, and our evening in the hotel were all perfect. The weirdness started on the drive back to the city. Maybe this business trip is just a fabrication. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me anymore.

  I’m trying not to panic, but I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears as I pace. My throat is dry. It can’t all have been for nothing this month, I think as I rub my fingers against my temples.

  After a minute of silence as I frantically pace around my apartment, he says, “Maybe you could come with me?”

  I stop wearing a hole in the carpet. “To New York?”

  “Yeah, why not? I’d pay for the flight and hotel and everything, since I’m putting you in a tight spot.”

  I chew on my lip, relief rushing through me at the knowledge that he’s not trying to get out of our arrangement after all. “I don’t know. I can’t just suddenly close my store like that,” I reluctantly argue.

  “Are you the only staff member or something?” he asks.

  “N
o, I have an assistant, but—”

  “Is he trustworthy?”

  “She’s a she, and yes, but—”

  “Well, there you go. Isn’t this kind of thing that assistants are for?”

  “It’s not exactly standard procedure to ask people to shoulder extra duties so their bosses can go get laid,” I say dryly.

  “You know what I meant. She can cover for you a few days without burning the place down.”

  I take a moment to think. But apparently I’m quiet for too long.

  “So, what do you say?” he says. “It could be fun. I’d have to be in boring meetings for most of the day, but we could hang out after. Drinking, dancing, fine dining, whatever you want to do.” His voice takes on that sultry tone I find so hard to resist. “Of course, at night I’ll be all yours.”

  The temptation to spend so much time with Emmett—not to mention avoid wasting this month’s ovulation—is just too strong. “Okay,” I finally reply, rationalizing that it’s not like there will be too many customers for Britt to manage solo.

  “Great,” he says with genuine enthusiasm. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at nine.”

  “See you then. ’Bye.” I hang up, letting out a sigh.

  I’ve tried to pretend that the day after Mike’s wedding never happened, but in moments when I’m not busy or guarded enough, it still finds its way under my skin to gnaw at me. Emmett’s comment about me being a quick-and-easy fling really stung. Which just made me even more confused and frustrated, because I shouldn’t have any feelings about this situation to hurt. Yet there I sat, staring out the car window with a knot in my throat that I still can’t explain, let alone forget.

  Emmett hasn’t brought it up, so I can’t tell if he forgot about that weird, painful interlude . . . or he’s been playing along with my charade of uncomplicated contentment. Either way should be good enough for me, but of course I’m still wondering what he’s thinking, because my heart is an asshole who enjoys pain and can’t follow the simplest fucking instructions.