Babyjacked: A Second Chance Romance

by Sosie Frost

  “Is there a window?”

  “A pest like that? He’d chew right through the damaged shingles.”

  “What?”

  Rem shushed me with a finger to my lips. “Okay. We’ll go outside. You distract him. I’ll circle back and grab his tail.”

  “His…tail?”

  “I’ll swing his ass into the woods. That’ll teach him a lesson.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Or maybe I’ll make a hat out of him.” He grinned. “It’s a goddamned raccoon, Sassy.”

  I aimed the broom for his gut. “You son of a—”

  He dodged the attack. “Shh. Don’t wake the kids.”

  Oh, I didn’t need words. I slapped his shoulder once, twice, then another time just to make it hurt. My hand stung. Rem’s muscles hadn’t even twitched.

  “You scared the hell out of me,” I said.

  He dodged my fourth slap and folded his fingers into mine. One tug, and I was trapped against his chest.

  “You think I’d let anything happen to you?” he asked.

  “Well, you just gave me a heart attack.”

  “Nothing to fear, Sassy. I’m your big strong hero, here to keep you safe all night.”

  I snorted. “I’ll take my chances with the bandit outside. At least he’s only stealing trash.”

  “Yeah?” Rem’s smile melted my irritation. Wasn’t sure how the bastard did it. “And what do I steal?”

  “Anything you can get.”

  “Like…” He leaned in quick, holding my cheek as his lips brushed mine. “A kiss?”

  I batted at his chest. “And worse.”

  “What? Like a touch?” He swatted at my behind.

  “Knowing you? You’d take a girl’s virtue.”

  His words mellowed. “And her heart, if she’d give it to me.”

  My chest fluttered a little too hard. I swallowed. “I think the most dangerous animal in these woods is standing right in front of me.”

  “You know it, little girl. Better run. I do worse things than bite and scratch.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  He lunged. I giggled and twisted away, batting his hands from mine and diving around the couch. Rem followed, easily seizing me in his thick arms as I attempted to escape into the bedroom. We tumbled to the couch, my body tangled in his, my legs twisted under his weight.

  And like a fool, I’d ended up exactly where I swore I’d never be caught.

  Beneath him.

  Breathless. Panting.

  Staring at the only man who had ever made a raccoon attack actually seem romantic.

  “We should go to bed,” I whispered.

  “I agree.”

  Bad boy. “Alone.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  His fingers trailed over my arms, pushing my wrists over my head. I debated reaching for the broom. A good swat might have stilled his hands.

  But it did nothing for his lips.

  Rem leaned in, seizing me in a kiss so sudden, so perfect, he didn’t need to hold my hands. My body puddled right there, a mess of indecision, denied urges, and dreaded desire. He nibbled at me, a swift and commanding kiss that threatened my surrender right then and there.

  No one was sexier than this man.

  I’d fallen for him since the first moment I knew my heart could belong to another. And he knew it was always his. He’d carried it. He’d teased it. He’d broke it. Now it beat with such a fury that I had no doubt he could feel every last thump.

  A kiss, and I was lost. A gentle caress of my cheek, and I submitted.

  A nip to my neck, and I was in trouble.

  Rem moved over me, wedging himself between my legs as his hardness pressed against my thigh. The denim did a poor job of containing that strength. And I did even less to discourage it.

  I’d wanted to feel him.

  For so long. So many years. So many broken promises.

  And now? He kissed me, deep and dramatic, as if proving that I wasn’t the only one lost to those memories.

  My shirt rode up. My dark tummy exposed to him, and his hand tickled upwards, brushing against the swell of my breast. Heat spread from his fingertips—a wonderful magic that shivered and delighted. It washed over my body and ignited every part of me.

  My hips accidentally bucked against his.

  He liked that.

  So did I.

  “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.” Rem’s words caressed me, sweeter than his hands. “My biggest regret was never getting to touch you. To taste you. To hold you.” He kissed me once more, his words a low growl. “To be with you.”

  “It was for the best.” I wished I hadn’t arched as his hand tickled downwards. “We wouldn’t have worked together.”

  “Maybe not then…” He teased over my thigh, but he never shifted his gaze from mine. Instead, his eyes widened as his fingers drifted down, over the borrowed pair of boxers separating his skin from mine. He pressed hard. A dozen intoxicating shivers rose from his touch. He smirked as I gasped. “Things have changed, Cas. We’re different now.”

  Who could concentrate when a master of pleasure rolled his fingers over that delicate secret?

  “You’re all grown up.” He teased me with quick circles. “And I know the kind of man I am now.”

  “What kind?”

  “Not good.” He didn’t apologize for it, only tightened and quickened his pace. “I’ve never pretended to be a good man. I left because I had to, but I’ve never wanted to hurt you.”

  He wasn’t hurting me now. Just the opposite. My fingernails sunk into the couch. I didn’t dare speak.

  “You’re the only woman who’s ever made me regret the man I became. You’re the reason I want to be better.”

  Sweet words and dirty touches. He traced the most sensitive part of me and watched as I tensed and panted for him. Too intense. Too new and amazing. I moved against his hand and struggled to piece together enough thoughts to break my heart.

  “You know this is too complicated,” I whispered.

  “Doesn’t have to be.” He caressed a little harder, stealing a mew from my parted lips. “This is what we’ve always needed, Cas. Just to feel each other. We need to be together. To touch and kiss and just…”

  “I can’t lose you twice, Rem.”

  “You never lost me the first time.” He kissed me once more. “I left you, but I never stopped—”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “Then let me show you.”

  He leaned over me, his heat and strength and the wild promise of his touch capturing me within his arms. I sucked in a breath as his fingers tangled in the waistband of my shorts. Our gazes met.

  And the door squealed from the kids’ room.

  “It’s thundering. What are shadows made of? Can I have some water?”

  Mellie had little tact when it came to entering a room.

  Rem swore, panicked, and accidentally rolled off the couch. He struck the floor with an oof, but was on his feet and offering his hand to Mellie before she got too close to the sofa.

  “You okay, kiddo?” he asked.

  “Thirsty.” Mellie tilted her head at him. “I want Jimmy Fallon.”

  “Aha!” I pointed at him. “I knew you let her stay up after her bedtime.”

  Rem sigh and led the little girl into the kitchen. He cracked open a bottle of water for her. “No TV tonight. Go back to bed.”

  “You’re not sleeping.”

  Rem cleared his throat. “We were almost sleeping.”

  I smirked. “Hopefully not that quick.”

  “Well, in a good two hours.”

  “Two?”

  He grinned. “At least.”

  “Must take you a long time to get tired.”

  He eyed me with a terrible, wonderful hunger. “Stamina for days. Need some proof?”

  Mellie tugged on Rem’s hand. “Can I have a story?”

  The cuteness pained him. He glanced fro
m the girl to me.

  “I’m off the clock,” I said. “This is all you. I should get to bed.”

  “Sure you don’t want a story too?” His smile was wicked. “I can tuck you in.”

  And then where would we be?

  Exhausted. Deliriously happy. Hopelessly confused.

  And possibly more hurt than I’d been five years ago.

  “I think I’ll tuck myself in tonight,” I said.

  “Afraid of what would happen?”

  No. Because I knew exactly what would happen.

  I wouldn’t just fall for Remington Marshall. I’d hit absolute rock bottom.

  But I’d so enjoy the tumble.

  10

  Remington

  Nothing had felt greater than waking up with Cassi…

  Though it might have been a hell of lot more fun if we’d have awakened in the same room.

  Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and I was begging. Hard. I’d have no problem convincing her from my knees, but I needed her to listen first. Or spread her legs.

  Damn, I’d gotten close. Didn’t deserve the brief kisses and touches I took, but nothing was going to stop me now.

  I was going to win Cassi back.

  Why the fuck did I ever leave her in the first place?

  Because I didn’t have a choice. I couldn’t offer her an explanation, but at least I knew I’d done what was right. I’d hurt her, but running had caused less heartache.

  Three days. That’s how long her scent stayed on my pillows. Sweet, floral, and intoxicating. And if I planned to make that a permanent perfume, I had to work hard.

  Fortunately, I had an idea.

  Her text had been frantic that morning, so I dressed the kids, loaded them in the truck, and met her at the municipal center at her request. We waited at the playground for fifteen minutes before Cassi jogged up the sidewalk, greeted the kids with a wide smile, and offered me another round of apologies.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late.” She’d wrapped her hair in a vibrant pink scarf. The knot came loose as she ran, and she reached back to tighten it, scrunching her nose as she picked a piece of floss off of her arm. “You have no idea how frustrating it is fighting over the bathrooms every single morning. Adult siblings are not supposed to live together. I love my brothers so much that I just want to strangle them all very, very slowly.”

  I grinned. What a perfect opportunity. “So move in with me.”

  I hadn’t expected a complete silence to befall the municipal center. Swings stopped creaking. Water fountains dried. Birds practically dropped from the sky.

  And Cassi laughed her ass off.

  “Move in?” She patted Mellie’s behind and sent her running to the sandbox. “You’ve gone insane.”

  “You could be a live-in nanny.”

  “You can’t afford a regular, full-time nanny.”

  I could do one better. “I’ll guarantee you a bed, a bathroom, and a fresh box of wine in the fridge every day.”

  “Well, damn. Marry me now.”

  Would if I could. “Limited time offer.”

  “Are gonna find some other easily manipulated early-education major to seduce?”

  “What can I say?” I hauled Tabby up, kissed her cheek, and realized then that most of her breakfast had ended up in her diaper. “I have other interested parties. These kids are usually quite cute.”

  “Usually?”

  “Yeah…” I held the baby at arm’s length. “This one has done something decidedly not cute. Did you clock in yet?”

  Cassi tapped her chin. “Yes, but I like to watch you squirm.”

  “Rather watch me change her in the grass? A couple kids turned the changing table in the men’s bathroom into a trampoline.”

  She gestured for the baby and grunted as Tabby bounced in her arms. “You win this round.”

  “Enjoy your prize.”

  Cassi whistled, calling for Mellie. “Potty break. Come on, kiddo.”

  Mellie promised me she hadn’t needed to go before leaving the house. Now she danced in the sandbox. “I don’t gotta.”

  Cassi snapped her fingers. Mellie pouted, but she wiggled cross-legged to her nanny and hobbled towards the bathrooms.

  Just in time too. I stared across the playground towards the municipal building. Part county offices, part sheriff station, part take out hotdog stand, the parking lot was almost bigger than the governmental seat of Butterpond. The space was just small enough so everyone’s dirty laundry aired in front of the town.

  And this laundry was real dirty.

  Chad Bilcon hit the bottle like he hit his women—hard and often. The slimeball was old enough to be Emma’s dad when he’d knocked her up. He left her after Mellie was born. Waited two years. Then came home to finish the job. Out popped Tabby, and off he ran.

  Just like me, the bastard wasn’t even supposed to be in town. Last I’d heard, the potbellied, balding asshole had spent time up at State, earning the tattoos staining his rotten flesh. He wasn’t good for anything, least of all child support. A man like that deserved to be hung from his ankles until every last cent he owned struck the floor.

  Wasn’t bad enough the kids didn’t have a dad.

  But to know that he was their father?

  Revolted me.

  Chad tore a yellow citation into three pieces and shoved it into a nearby garbage can. He staggered towards the parking lot. I didn’t let him get far.

  “Who the hell said you could come back here?”

  Chad turned, eyes bloodshot with whatever drug of the month he’d decided to shoot into his veins. He stared at me, unrecognizing, and spat a lug of chew onto the pavement. The bastard marched a couple steps closer before he realized he should’ve kept walking.

  “Remington?” He wiped a hand across his sweaty forehead—a pale slug of skin that now extended to the crown of his head. “I could ask you the same question. The fuck are you doing here?”

  Chasing toddlers. Avoiding the gaze of the mothers who shuffled the children to the opposite end of the playground from us. Consoling Mellie once she realized no other kids were allowed to play with her.

  “Patrolling the gutters to find slime like you,” I said.

  “Get your ass outta my business.”

  “Your business is my business nowadays.” I squared my shoulders as he encroached. “You chasing Emma again?”

  “A man has some standards.”

  Classy. “Then you here to see your kids?”

  He held his arms out. “Got no kids.”

  “I know those girls are yours. You know they’re yours. Bout time you acted like it.”

  “Only birth certificate with my name on it is my own.” Chad sucked the spittle from his lip. “Emma can’t remember who knocked her up anyway.”

  “Well I got a good memory.”

  “Last I heard…she was in a bit of trouble.”

  His fault. “Yeah. Feel bad for that?”

  “Emma made her own bed. Got more dicks than mine in it too.”

  “You mother fuc—”

  “Emma got her own problems. Ain’t mine anymore. And those…” He pointed over my shoulder as Cassi returned, Tabby in her arms, Mellie racing to the sandbox. “Those ain’t my problems. Keep the brats away from me.”

  “They aren’t brats.”

  “And they ain’t mine.” He spat once more. “So don’t come reaching for my wallet when Emma finally kicks it.”

  I reared back, fist balled. Cassi caught it, spun me, and forced Tabby against my chest.

  Not many men could fight with a squirming one-year-old in their arms. Cassi knew it.

  Cassi banished Chad with a frustrated wave. “There’s no trash on this playground. Move it before we shove you into the garbage.”

  Chad seized the opportunity and stumbled away. I should have followed—should have showed him how shit was settled in the middle of the wilderness with no police or laws preventing a man from solving matters of disrespect.

  Tabby tugged
on my ear and punched her enthusiasm.

  “Ba!” She pointed over my shoulder at the kids playing with an inflatable ball. “Ba!”

  If I wasn’t careful, Cassi was about to rip my ba off. She stared at me, bewildered.

  “You are twenty-seven years old. Are you really gonna have a fist-fight on a playground?”

  I stared as Chad started his beat-up Chevy and sped away. “Someone has to take responsibility.”

  “And beating up some burnt-out junkie is the way to do it? Rem, you’re better than that.”

  “Am I?” I let Tabby down, holding her arms as she toddled across the grass. “Don’t pretend, Cas. You look at me, and you still see the same fuck-up from five years ago.”

  She frowned. “Only because you swear in front of the kids.”

  That wasn’t the reason she hadn’t welcomed me into her bed. Why she was resisting me. Why she denied the feelings we both shared.

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  She sighed. “So am I. I know things are different now. My dad’s gone. My brothers are back. The farm has turned on its head. In five years, a lot can change. We’re not the same people we once were.”

  “You are.”

  It seemed to offend her. “I am not.”

  “Didn’t say it was bad. You know I always liked you. Probably too much.”

  “Well, I am quite lovable.”

  “More than you realize.”

  She looked away. “You always were a sweet-talker.”

  “Only with sweet girls.”

  Mellie ran over, babbling and pointing with such enthusiasm she fell, face-planted in the dirt, rose, stomped her feet in a pout, then resumed her excitement. Her blue eyes widened, bright and pretty, as she practically foamed at the mouth.

  “They. Got. Balloons!”

  At three years old, Mellie’s life had never been and never would be the same again unless she could possess a poorly twisted balloon animal haphazardly strung together by a burnt-out college-aged punk in oversized shoes, a red nose, and smeared makeup. She bounced in place and tugged on our hands.

  “Balloons!” She squealed, supersonic over the playground. “Kitties!”

  As if anyone could resist.

  As if anyone had a choice.

  Pretty sure if Mellie had a sharpened stick she might have held it to my throat for a crack at the balloon animals. A dozen or more kids had already formed a mob around the clown, climbing over each other Walking Dead style to wrench the animals from the stoner clown’s hands.