Baby Daddy Wanted (Dirty DILFs Book 5)

by Taryn Quinn

  My molars clicked shut before I could say something I’d regret.

  Like the truth.

  Gideon’s eyebrows shot up. “I know you have a thing for her. Better get in there before someone else does.”

  Two

  Vee

  ColtsFan69: You’re a little hottie. You sure you want a baby and not just a good hard fuck? I can give you both, but why don’t we start with the second and worry about the first later? Or never? Haha.

  HungHorse: I’m good to the last drop too, pretty lady. Just call big John and he’ll give you what you need.

  Harley4U: Heya, I’m that baby daddy you wanted, hun. All my swimmers are great at finding the target. Ya need proof? I’ve got seven kids already, all strapping sons. I breed true.

  All my life, I’d believed my sweet, bucolic hometown of Crescent Cove, New York only contained honest, hardworking, salt of the Earth types like my family and friends. Some were of them were of the slightly wackier persuasion—like my mom, and even me to a point—but all in all, the townsfolk were decent people.

  But I’d missed one salient point. Among all these wonderful, homespun citizens lived a secret group of frigging horndog freaks. And thanks to my misplaced post, I’d seemingly drawn them all out into the open.

  At least into my inbox. Which I would need to bleach. Along with my eyes, brain, and psyche.

  I had too many messages to even count them all. Before I’d posted, my inbox had contained five newsletters from different shops and places I frequented, along with a few emails from friends I still had to answer. I’d had no unread messages.

  Now? The tiny number 118 blinked at me. How was that even possible? Crescent Cove wasn’t even that big of a town, and surely not everyone wanted to throw their, um, hat into the ring.

  And it had only been three hours since I’d posted. Barely even that. What would be the status of my inbox by tonight?

  That wasn’t even saying anything about my voicemails. And my Facebook messenger. And even my Facebook wall. Comments were coming in everywhere people could reach me.

  Including through the front door of Brewed Awakening. You know, my job. For pity’s sake, didn’t people have a clue what was appropriate to discuss at work?

  And yes, I’d gone down Inappropriate Lane with my accidental post—I’d meant to post on the CNY Singles’ group Facebook page—but still, a person’s workplace should be off-limits, right?

  Not according to most of the customers who strolled up to the counter at the coffee shop today. Which of course I had to be working behind, since one of the other baristas had called off due to “bacterial some shit”.

  I swear, the world was out to embarrass me as much as possible. As if I wasn’t already humiliated enough by my mistake.

  “Victoria, surely a pretty girl like you can find a man the old-fashioned way. Why, when I was your age, my perky bosoms alone had me drawing in a long list of suitors.”

  I kept my head down as I filled Mrs. Conroy’s order. She was one of the town’s biggest busybodies, and between her and Mrs. Gunderson, they kept the gossip lines flowing.

  “It’s Veronica, Mrs. Conroy. Here’s your lemon-raspberry petit fours and one cherry lips blow pop.” I said the last part louder than necessary, pleased when she flushed from the starched collar of her blouse up to her hairline.

  “Thank you, dear. But really, what were you thinking? You have to know no respectable man will want you after they hear you’ve had to…advertise.” Mrs. Conroy made a tsk-tsk noise that caused heat to climb up the back of my neck. I was about to duck my head again when I threw back my shoulders.

  I wasn’t anyone’s shrinking violet. So what if I wanted a baby and didn’t want to wait forever for Mr. Right Now to storm into my world? Was that a crime?

  No, it certainly was not. So, I was taking charge. Controlling my destiny. Asking for batter to make my own cake.

  It was what I did. What I was good at. And I wasn’t going to pretend to be contrite about it either. More people knew about my plans than I’d originally wanted, but that was okay. It must’ve been meant to occur this way or it wouldn’t have happened. One of Andrea Marie Fortuna Dixon’s—also known as my mother’s—life mantras must’ve rubbed off, because I believed in fate. This was destiny, my post going awry. My semen slinger was out there, just waiting, and I was going to bag him and bring him home.

  Or to the Hummingbird’s Nest for a night of classy sex. Whatever.

  “I didn’t advertise for a hookup, Mrs. Conroy. I placed an ad because I want a baby.” Unfortunately, my voice carried more than I’d intended, and a couple of the guys in line behind Mrs. Conroy snickered. They were college students from the looks of things.

  At least maybe they didn’t know about my post? A girl could hope.

  Mrs. Conroy shook her head and toddled off, allowing the college guys to step forward. “Tall Americano,” the blond one in front said. “And my man Josh here wants me to tell you he hasn’t tried to make a baby yet, but if you’re asking, he’s picking up the phone.” Much laughter and shoving.

  I ignored their antics and glanced at the dark-haired guy that must be Josh. “You want a coffee?”

  He shook his head, his eyes huge and his cheeks reddening by the minute.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I turned to make the Americano. It was like second nature at this point, thank God. If I’d had to do anything that required serious thought, I’d be screwed.

  The next hour was more of the same. A few concerned citizens, a few jokes, a few insults. The line stretched out the door, and it wasn’t just because Brewed Awakening had already built quite the reputation in town as being the place to go for funky coffee drinks and fun bakery products along with a cool atmosphere.

  Now what was the big draw? Facebook’s baby mama-to-be was in residence. I was practically a sideshow attraction.

  Step right up, boys and girls, and take a good look at the exhibit!

  As if that wasn’t enough, my freaking phone kept vibrating against my ass where I’d stashed it in my back pocket. I was scared to check it. Instead of feeling excitement that maybe I’d find the man I was searching for, all I could think about was what indignity might be waiting for me now.

  When the foot traffic slowed and I finally got a second to breathe, I stepped away from the counter and tipped back my head. Holy shittake. Was this what my life was going to be like now?

  “Ready for a break?”

  The question from Macy, my boss and close friend, made my shoulders drop. I opened my eyes and sighed at her crossed arms and flattened expression. “You know.”

  Nodding at the swinging passthrough door that led into the reading nook, she motioned at a couple of the other workers to man the counter while we escaped. On the way, she snagged a couple bottled smoothies prepared and waiting for the afternoon yoga crowd. I took the one she offered gratefully and took a long swig.

  Macy’s smoothies contained a shot of espresso. They were healthy and also had a glorious caffeine kick.

  Now if only mine could’ve also had a belt of scotch…

  “All right, tell me what this hot mess express is all about.” She held up a finger. “Since your indoor voice has been missing today, keep it down. Remember that we’re trying to put out the fire, not burn through the pants of every horny dude in this joint.”

  It made me laugh when I would’ve said nothing could. “I’m the biggest butt of a joke that’s ever lived.”

  “You think so? Did you miss all the longing glances from some of the most eligible men Crescent Cove has to offer? Some a little too longing for an upstanding place of business.” Macy sniffed and I laughed again, reaching out to grip her hand.

  “Thanks for being so cool about all this. I know it’s not good having all this happen at work.”

  “Are you kidding me? Receipts have been up twenty percent.”

  I winced. “Yay. So has my humiliation level.”

  “Okay, so spill. What happened?”

/>   I ran it through for her, using my indoor voice as requested. As I told the story, I ignored the occasional calls of “Yo, Vee!” or “Hey there, Veronica,” from passing customers. Some I knew, some I didn’t. Either way, I wasn’t in the mood to be their entertainment for the afternoon.

  “Okay, so you didn’t mean to post it there. Where exactly did you mean to post it? And girl, did you really think this through?”

  “I did think it through. I meant to post it in the CNY Singles group. I’ve seen some kind of similar requests…” I trailed off and set aside my half empty smoothie cup so I could bury my face in my hands. “Okay, not exactly like this, but God, Mace, you know the dating thing is such a meat market and eggs have a time limit. If I’m not fertile from the get go, it might take awhile and—” I looked up, aghast. “And no guy is going to want to keep trying, will he? I’m such a fool.”

  Macy snapped her fingers and my eyes went wide. “Simmer down. You’re heading for a shame spiral, and the only ones who benefit from that are the home shopping networks and Ben & Jerry’s.”

  “I never thought of the whole process of it. It’s not super quick for most people. God, what have I done? If I delete it now, it doesn’t matter. The internet is forever.”

  “Do you want to meet someone and try to have a baby?”

  It was easy enough to answer the question when she broke it down like that. “Yes. Deep down, I do. It’d be nice if I liked the guy. Not lifetime love, just someone I could be friends with around the getting naked part.” I reached for my smoothie again to wet my throat. “And maybe if it takes a little while to make it happen, he’ll be okay with that. If it takes longer than he’s willing to wait, well, then I’ll meet someone else.”

  “Yes, you will. Because God knows why you want a baby with all of them crawling out of the woodwork around here—” She broke off and frowned at me. “You drank the Crescent Cove water, didn’t you? I warned you.”

  I laughed and leaned back in the overstuffed loveseat. Macy had the comfiest furniture in her reading area. “Maybe a little. There are an awful lot of cute babies around here nowadays. And look at Rylee, just about to pop and so damn cute with it.”

  “Cute? She’s crying hourly about ankle swelling and being too big to get off the couch.”

  “She just glows. And you know her baby is going to be gorgeous, what with all her and Gage’s genes swimming around in there.” I let out a long wistful sigh as I pictured Macy’s bestie and Crescent Cove’s most recent pregnant chick.

  Until I got knocked up. See, I could engage in positive thinking.

  “I suppose so. But it’ll still be a baby. And you’re responsible for them for eighteen years. More if they won’t move out of your basement.” Macy shuddered and tapped the side of her smoothie cup. “No Crescent Cove water for me, thanks.”

  “I get that, but I’ve always wanted one. Maybe two. A nice set.”

  “Gee, let me guess, a boy and girl?”

  Macy’s snark didn’t bother me. I knew under it was love. And probably more snark. Like a nice sarcasm sandwich. “No, I’m not set on any particular sex. Just healthy.”

  “I wish I had a brother or cousin I could have help you out. Would be easier. And I suppose I wouldn’t mind having you related and all. Or your brood related, which is close enough.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Macy Devereaux, that almost sounds like sweet talk coming from you.”

  “Don’t get used to it. All those dollar signs floating past my ledger today must’ve put me in an uncharacteristically good mood.” She grinned and glanced over her shoulder. “And lookee there, the line is back out the door after a brief afternoon lull. Saddle up, cowgirl. Your latest gang of possible yogurt shooters has arrived.”

  I had to laugh as I straightened my crown—metaphorical as it was—and went back with her behind the counter.

  I wanted to find a guy who would make a good baby daddy. This was what I wanted. Maybe not in this particular manner, but if all the extra attention sent Mr. Loaded Gun my way, well, then how could I complain? Had to put up with a little rain to get my rainbow, right?

  As the afternoon wore on, I filled drink orders and boxed pastries to go, all the while keeping my smile firmly in place. The line of customers never seemed to waver, and a lot of the jokes were at my expense. But a lot of folks also asked kind, considerate questions and offered support. And Macy had my back, even if it was because her cash register had been going ca-ching all day long.

  Everything was going to be okay.

  In the midst of the hullabaloo, I thought I glimpsed a familiar face near the back of the line. He was easy enough to spot. Murphy Masterson stood head and shoulders above a lot of the people of Crescent Cove. He definitely towered over me. It wasn’t just that. Murphy was sizable. A big, broad guy with plenty of muscles yet a shy nature that didn’t seem to fit his brawny physique.

  At least I liked to think he was shy. Maybe he wasn’t that at all. Perhaps he just didn’t have anything to say to me. After all, he was a serious, thoughtful man. I was like a donut with extra sprinkles. Fun, brightly colored, a sugar rush in a small package. What would a dude like Murphy see in me? But I liked talking to him just the same—or trying to, because he didn’t always talk back—despite our differences. He was a bright spot in my day.

  Oh, God, had he heard about the post too? Of course he had. Who hadn’t?

  And I was not going to stress. Nope. Not this girl.

  Deliberately keeping my head averted from the endless line, I boxed up a four pack of back to school cupcakes. These were special, made for the college crowd. On one there was a little sugar Budweiser can situated on red, white, and blue frosting, on another there was a sugar iPad on sparkly buttercream frosting, and the last two held jumbo sugar cups of espresso on chocolate ganache. Macy let me do whatever crazy ideas sprung into my head.

  A beer-themed cupcake? Sure, go for it.

  “Here you go, Andrew. Don’t study too hard. Or if you do, use these as a reward.” I smiled widely at the lanky, bespectacled college junior who didn’t speak much but always tipped well. I’d been a horrible student myself and had no desire to go back, but I admired those who committed to their education.

  “Thanks, Vee. And um, I hope it’s okay if I say any guy who gets to have a baby with you is very lucky.” Andrew grabbed his box and fled before I could unstick my tongue from the floor.

  By the time I sucked in a breath and chanced another look at the line, he was long gone—and so was Murphy.

  Fark. The bright spot in my day just got covered with a big-ass cloud.

  “Hi, Vee. Can we get a couple caramel capps, please? Our usual.” Ally Hamilton stepped forward with her sister-in-law Sage at her side.

  “Sure thing. How’s it going? Where’s your cutie babies?”

  They exchanged a glance and inwardly, I sighed. Of course the baby-crazy chick asked after their kids. They probably thought I wanted to snatch them at the first opportunity for a long round of snuggles.

  They probably weren’t wrong. Both Ally and Sage had adorable kids.

  “Oh, good. Alex has an ear infection, but it’s almost over, thank God.”

  “Star too. I swear, they get the same things every time. Cousins.” Sage smiled and pursed her lips as she eyed the pastry case. “Hmm, should I get one of these eclairs to go? Or better yet, I’ll get two eclairs and see if Oliver’s been a good boy today.”

  Ally rolled her eyes. “Is he ever? But yeah, good idea. Seth loves those thumbprint cookies. Can I get a half dozen of those to go, please?”

  “Yeah, and three eclairs, please,” Sage chimed in. At Ally’s look, she shrugged. “Hey, PMS. Which is a good thing these days since it means I’m safe for another month.” She kissed her fingers and held them up toward the sky.

  Then she started to cough. “Um, from wicked bad cramps. That’s what I mean. When I get crazy sugar cravings before, then I usually have milder cramps. Weird, right?” She bit her lip and flas
hed a help me look at her best friend. Ally just sighed.

  Right. Because both Ally and Sage had sexy guys—twins no less—who were madly in love with them and had planted babies in them without even being asked. And now Sage was glad not to be knocked up again.

  Wicked bad cramps, my keister.

  Every little slice of daily life seemed like a personal shot against me and my situation. Which was just silly. They were my friends. Well, kind of. I knew them a little through Rylee, but I wanted to get to know them more.

  Not stand here and pout while they looked at each other uncomfortably as the silence between us extended.

  “Coming right up,” I said brightly, shaking myself out of my stupor.

  After I filled their orders, they flashed sympathetic glances at me as they stuffed far more in my tip jar than was necessary.

  Number fifty fail-whale moment of the day.

  On my next break, I took a chance and looked at the disaster zone that was my inbox. Now up to 202 emails. My box was overflowing, quite literally.

  Chewing on the corner of my thumbnail, I scrolled through some one-handed. A bunch went right into the trash. And I do mean right in. Salacious offers were an instant delete, no response necessary. Concerned comments from townsfolk who thought I’d lost my sugar cubes were starred for later replies.

  Then I came upon an interesting one indeed.

  On the surface, it wasn’t that much different than the other worried emails. Just something about it tweaked me in the chest. Dangerously close to my heart.

  Vee,

  I’m sure you’re getting lots of responses to your offer. I wanted to make sure you knew it was posted in the Crescent Cove main group. If it’s a mistake, I can help. We can pretend it was just a joke. I’ll say I hacked into your account as retribution for you putting peanut butter in my brownies. Peanut butter belongs in many things, but not brownies. Why ruin all that gooey chocolate perfection? But if you were serious, if you meant your request… I guess you can count me in.