Babyjacked: A Second Chance Romance

by Sosie Frost

This couldn’t be. No way was I that horrible of a person.

  And Shepard couldn’t possibly be that good, no matter how many ducks he stuffed in his pocket.

  Right?

  The crowd cheered as the last duckling waddled free, racing to his momma who promptly shook her tail feathers with indignity and continued towards the pond.

  “Oh, he is yummy.” Elle winked at me. “You keep hold of that one.”

  “He’s definitely tough to get rid of,” I said.

  Too tough. Too perfect.

  I needed something that would shatter this illusion. Something that would save me from this unrelenting crush and spare me the misery and heartbreak of the truth.

  Any fault would do.

  Like…a dastardly plan to toss the ducklings into the sewer ahead of time, just so he could look like the hero when I happened across the scene.

  Maybe that was it! Shepard was a ducking fraud.

  He helped the men replace the grate and wiped his dirty hands on his jeans. The crowd clapped, but the kids eventually raced to the playgrounds. The moms waited around a little longer, nibbling on their sunglasses with flirty smirks.

  He didn’t even look at them. He approached me with a warning.

  “Don’t get too close,” he said. “I’m a mess.”

  One of the playground moms gave a throaty growl. “That wouldn’t stop me.”

  She was absolutely right. I needed something worse than dirt, grime, and stray leaves to change my opinion of Shepard.

  “Do you recycle?” I asked.

  Shepard shrugged. “Yeah…I try—”

  I huffed. “Have you ever stolen someone’s lunch from the office fridge? Blamed someone else?”

  “No…but I’m usually on a strict diet—”

  “I bet you don’t return library books.”

  “I always—”

  I interrupted him. “You probably wear ugly sweaters at Christmas, un-ironically.”

  He gave an awkward shrug. “I didn’t think my taste was that bad…”

  “I know! You pour Skittles and M&Ms into the same bowl.”

  “What sort of monster does that?”

  I sighed. It was no use. Shepard Novak had no flaws.

  But I had them all. Hopefully, Clue wouldn’t inherit them.

  “Evie…” Shepard laughed. “Is something bothering you—?”

  A woman’s scream tore through the park.

  “Help!” An elderly woman pointed across the path, away from the ducklings. “He stole my purse!”

  Shepard’s curse bit under his breath.

  And then he was gone.

  Racing across the park.

  Being a hero. Again.

  The crowd gasped as he leapt over a park bench and sprinted after the thief, arms pumping and feet striking the pavement as if he’d launch at any moment, rip through his shirt, and transform right into the ducky pond’s very own Superman.

  The thief didn’t stand a chance.

  The teenage boy panicked and tripped over a sprinkler system. He landed face first into a freshly mulched rose garden. Unfortunately, his sneaker had jammed into the sprinkler. A geyser of water spurted from the ground. The kid tangled in the mud.

  Shepard landed on him.

  Poised. In command.

  The water dripped over his body, rippling with adrenaline and tensed with bulging muscle. His wet shirt clung to his back, his arms, his chest. Every heaving breath stuck the material closer to his perfect form. The water dripped from his hair, and he ran a hand through the length to smooth it back. His eyes narrowed over the punk, and he held him tight, waiting for one of the applauding people to call the police.

  Fortunately, the cruiser was already nearby, responding first to the duckling incident. Two officers hopped from the car and greeted their detective. They hauled the teenager out of the mud and wished Shepard a good day off, if there was such a thing for him.

  The crowds parted as he strode toward me—dripping wet with clothing clinging to his unbelievable body. His blue eyes narrowed over me and the baby, and he cast a hand over the trimmed length of his beard, wiping away mud and sweat.

  What the hell was I supposed to say?

  There were no more words for this fairytale. In fact, this was the point of the story where the narrative faded to black so the handsome knight could bang the everloving shit out of the princess on top of the slain dragon.

  But I wasn’t any blushing damsel.

  Hell, I was two-seductions from a Game of Thrones villain, spreading my legs to capture all of Westeros in my trap.

  “All in a day’s work, Detective?” I asked.

  He got cocky with me. “It pays the bills.”

  “Does it get exhausting being a hero all the time?”

  “You have no idea how badly the tights chafe my thighs.”

  Elle jogged over to us, camera in hand, grinning like a fool. “I got photos of it all! Unbelievable. I’ll send them over to the station as soon as I get them on my computer.” She pointed at me. “And you. Dig those claws in deep, kitty. Meow.” She grinned. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She winked, scampering off with her newfound bounty of pictures. The crowds thinned as the police dragged the teenager away. Shepard sighed, tugging at his ruined clothes.

  Mud. Grime. Water. Grass stains. He had leaves in his hair and slime on his legs.

  “I think we might have to cut our picnic short,” he said.

  “Picnic?”

  “Think I’d bring you all the way out here without feeding you?”

  Nothing he did surprised me anymore. I sighed.

  He grimaced. “But I think I need a shower before I can show you a good time.”

  “And you would, wouldn’t you?”

  He hesitated. “Shower? Yeah, call me old-fashioned, but a gentleman doesn’t carry around duckling shit in his pocket.”

  “No,” I said. “You’d show me a good time.”

  There was that smile again. That lovely, charming, infuriating smile. “Don’t I always?”

  “Oh, sure. Because you’re so damn attentive and helpful and heroic.”

  “Thank you?”

  This was a disaster, and my heart couldn’t help beating itself into a mooshy mess with every shared glance and secret affection. I turned away. He didn’t like that.

  Couldn’t he go five seconds without trying to make me happy?

  “If you’re that hungry, we can eat. I won’t sit on the blanket.”

  “It’s not that, Shepard.” I groaned. “You packed a blanket? And you probably had a perfect lunch planned with a perfect little snack and a perfect side.”

  “My pasta salad is good…but it’s not that good.”

  “Jesus, it’s probably your momma’s award winning pasta salad.”

  “She only won first place one year...”

  Fan-freaking-tastic.

  I picked a path to the car and tucked Clue into her car seat. Shepard sighed, casting the picnic blanket over the driver’s seat. He didn’t sit, but he did turn on the air conditioning, always careful to watch for the baby.

  And to keep an eye on me.

  To save the native wildlife.

  Defend the city from evil.

  Comfort me when I was panicking.

  This just wasn’t fair.

  “Okay.” Shepard tapped the roof of the car. “You’re acting goofier than usual.”

  “Head trauma makes a girl act goofy now?”

  “Yeah. You’re either acting goofy or like a crazy bitch. Pick your poison.”

  I quieted. So did he.

  But I broke first.

  “I remembered something, okay?”

  Shepard tensed. He measured his words. “What was it?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I can stand here and air-dry all day.”

  Goddamn it. There was absolutely no reason for me to admit this memory aloud. Ever. In fact, it benefited all civilized society that a person not admit to
such adulterous thoughts.

  But he waited, his eyebrow arched, golden hair damp and shimmering.

  “I don’t remember much.” How was I supposed to phrase this? “But the man I loved? Clue’s father?”

  Shepard frowned. Harsher than I anticipated. “Yeah?”

  “He was…engaged. He was with another woman. Planned to marry her.” The words tasted terrible. “And I think I threw myself at him. I wanted to steal him away. And…” I pointed to Clue kicking her little legs in the car seat. “I know why he’s not around. Why he’s not looking for us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s married.”

  “Evie.”

  This wasn’t one of those times where he could whisper my name and promise that everything would be okay. “He must be married now. He has his own family to worry about. I’m nothing to him, just the other woman that complicated everything.”

  Shepard’s profanity rumbled from him—a coarse and ugly word. He slammed the car door and rounded the front to reach me. His expression twisted.

  “That’s not how it happened,” he said.

  “It’s the only explanation.”

  “Listen to me, Evie.” He didn’t let me look away. “I know you. You aren’t that type of woman.”

  “Bullshit. You don’t know me. I don’t know me.”

  “You aren’t letting yourself remember. You are not a terrible person. And you’re no home wrecker. And she…” He glanced at Clue. “She’s not the product of an affair.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “What else?” Shepard’s eyes widened, sharp and stunning. “A man fell wildly, desperately in love with you. Maybe he shouldn’t have loved you. Maybe it was complicated. Maybe it was messy. But he loved you. When he saw the kind of life he might have had with you, he must have broken it off with that woman. Evie—” He didn’t let me look away. “Think about it. Do you really think you, of all people, would tolerate being someone’s other woman?”

  I didn’t even like being put on hold while on the phone. “Probably not.”

  “Evie, this man knew what he had with you. If he was with someone else, he ended it first. You wouldn’t have tolerated it otherwise.”

  “He didn’t seem very happy.”

  “If he didn’t have you then nothing in this world was going to make him happy.”

  My stomach twisted. If only that were the truth. “I remember wanting to be with him…but I couldn’t say it.”

  “Why?” Shepard reached for my cheek, but the grime on his hands and the guilt on his soul wouldn’t let him touch me. “Tell me why you wouldn’t say it.”

  “Because it felt wrong.” I looked down. “I remember feeling like…like this man was a good friend. We weren’t clandestinely meeting. It was something we did together for fun. We had a connection. A friendship that grew.” My breath trembled out of me. “I don’t think we meant to fall in love.”

  “But you did.”

  “Does that make me a horrible person?”

  “That makes him a fool for not taking you sooner.”

  I wished I hadn’t shivered. “Speaking from experience?”

  “Speaking from regret. I know what it feels like to want someone I can’t have.”

  “Shepard—”

  “I know what it feels like to be on the outside. To know how good something could be, how right, how perfect.”

  “We can’t do it though.”

  “Why?”

  “Shouldn’t do it.”

  He shrugged, swiping the mud off his shirt. “Think I’m afraid to get a little messy?”

  “It’s messy for other people. Innocent people.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s bad.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s right.” I pushed away from the car, from him, but my steps didn’t let me escape too far from my baby. “I only want to know who I am, Shepard. What kind of person I was.”

  “I can tell you.”

  “You can’t.”

  “You have to trust me.”

  “Why?” I shook my head. “I don’t even trust myself.”

  “You’re beautiful. Kind. Compassionate.” He drew me closer. “You’re a fighter. Independent. Fierce. You’re a good mother.”

  “I’m a great mother.”

  He smirked. “See? What do you need me for?”

  “I need to find out if everything you’re saying is true.”

  “And I need you to remember it for yourself first.”

  “Are you really this great of a guy? This good of a friend?”

  His answer was simple. “No. But for you, I’m trying to be.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Means I’m not good. Not perfect. And I haven’t been for a long time. I’m trying to make up for it now, but I’m beyond forgiveness.”

  “Why?”

  “You feel guilty because you fell in love?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m guilty because I never protected that gift.” He shook his head. “A man would be a fool to lose you, Evie.”

  And a woman would be damned if Shepard Novak ever found her.

  I couldn’t let it happen. Not now. Not ever.

  Shepard cared for me. Protected me. Wanted to help me.

  He bore some heavy guilt for a terrible mistake he’d made in his past, but it didn’t matter what hearts he had broken or loves he had lost.

  Shepard was the perfect man.

  And that made him wrong for me.

  11

  Shepard read through my notes with a raised eyebrow. “So, Chinese food reminds you of…”

  “Winter.”

  “Winter.” He motioned for me to give him anything more. “What else? Snow? Snowmen?”

  “Cold.”

  He frowned. “Why cold?”

  “I don’t know. The Kung Pow chicken was spicy.”

  “But why the cold? Think, Evie.”

  I pinched my eyes shut. “Because…I bit into something…”

  “Yes.”

  “And it was hot.”

  “Don’t eat that,” he warned. “You won’t like it.”

  The pepper didn’t look so tough. “But it’s just a little thing.”

  “You can’t handle it.”

  “I’ve never said no to a challenge.”

  “You should say no to that chili.”

  I bit it anyway.

  Mistake.

  “Jesus!” I lunged for the water. It spilled. Dove for the napkin. Ten of the devil peppers tumbled out. I shoveled rice into my mouth and rushed for the window.

  He laughed as I stuck my head outside and gasped in the chilly air.

  “Dear God, why won’t it snow?” I pleaded with the clouds.

  He snickered from the table, stealing the rest of the peppers from my bowl and adding them to his dinner. “Told ya.”

  I blinked.

  Shepard grinned, bouncing Clue in his lap. “Got something?”

  “I don’t like spicy peppers.”

  “Perfect.”

  I reached for my baby, giving her a quick hug before buckling her in the carrier. She gave me a slobbery grin and giggled.

  Actually giggled.

  Why did that sweet sound mean more to me than a flash of memory?

  “My goodness.” I patted her chubby cheeks. “When did you get so big?”

  Clue answered with another sweet coo.

  A week passed here and there. She’d added another couple pounds, a stable sleep schedule, and learned how to belly-laugh. My tiny baby had gone from a newborn to a twelve-week-old giggling, grinning, and cooing milk monster.

  She could sit up on her own…provided she had a couch behind her to hold her up. She could talk to me…if I deciphered her excited chirps and gurgles. And she could successfully catch things…as long as I handed them to her directly and hoped her newfound sense of coordination would let her grasp objects by herself.

  Overnight, my baby became this…person. Not just a lit
tle blob who thought of me as baby bouncer, diaper changer, and milk monger.

  And that was so much better than I’d thought it’d be.

  “So Chinese makes you think of winter.” Shepard consulted his notes. “And wings make you think of…football.”

  I pointed at him. “And we’ve established that I’m a Rivets fan.”

  He wasn’t impressed. “Only because you thought Jack Carson was hot.”

  “That still makes me a fan.” I picked up Clue’s carrier. “Fan of him. Fan of those tight little pants. Of his smile…”

  “Here I am, taking you to dinner when all I had to do was throw a damn football.”

  “Get yourself some of those pants and it might earn you dessert.”

  “Let’s go, before I change my mind and just take Clue with me.”

  “Hazel?” I peeked into her carrier. She didn’t respond. “Delilah?”

  “Not liking them?”

  I shook my head. “Oh well. Let’s keep trying different foods. Maybe we’ll hit the snack I ate while pregnant and it’ll trigger the right memories.”

  “Peanut butter and sardines. Got it.”

  “Ew.” I crinkled my nose. “You bring that over, and I won’t let you inside. Hell, I don’t know why you’re even here after that curry fiasco on Monday.”

  “I liked it.”

  “You have no taste buds.” I handed Clue’s carrier to him so I could lock the door. “Or the curry burned them all away.”

  He shook his head. “Well, you should like this pizza place more than the curry.”

  “I’d eat wood chips before I ate curry again.”

  “Good. Then my job tonight is easy.”

  “And what’s that?”

  Shepard smirked. “Spoiling you with good food and a better time.”

  Wasn’t that what he had been doing for the past two weeks?

  Dinners. Movies. Meticulously plotting out anything and everything that triggered even the briefest flashes of memory in my mind.

  I didn’t tell him that most of his notes were redundant. I had a lot of the discoveries already written on my blog. Over fifty entries now.

  But no emails in response to any of the memories.

  “Are you sure you want to eat out with the baby?” I asked. “We could get the pizza to-go.”

  “Clue’s not going to cause a fuss.”

  I couldn’t say the same about me. “But we’ve never been out like this before. I don’t know if she’ll cry or get upset or—”