by Taryn Quinn
To Have and To Claim
Taryn Quinn
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
To Have and To Claim
© 2019 Taryn Quinn
Rainbow Rage Publishing
Cover by: LateNite Designs
Photo by:
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First ebook edition: February 2019
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Contents
Acknowledgments
Have My Baby
About This Book
Prologue
1. Ally
2. Seth
3. Ally
4. Seth
5. Ally
6. Seth
7. Ally
8. Seth
9. Seth
10. Ally
11. Ally
12. Seth
13. Ally
14. Ally
15. Ally
16. Ally
17. Seth
18. Seth
19. Ally
20. Ally
21. Seth
Epilogue
Claim My Baby
About This Book
1. Sage
2. Oliver
3. Sage
4. Oliver
5. Sage
6. Oliver
7. Sage
8. Oliver
9. Sage
10. Oliver
11. Sage
12. Oliver
13. Sage
14. Oliver
15. Sage
16. Sage
17. Sage
18. Oliver
19. Sage
20. Oliver
21. Sage
22. Oliver
23. Sage
Epilogue
Who’s The Daddy
Taryn Quinn
Quinn and Elliott
About Taryn Quinn
Acknowledgments
Sometimes we make up fictional places that end up having the same names as actual places. These are our fictional interpretations only. Please grant us leeway if our creative vision isn't true to reality.
Have My Baby
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Have My Baby
© 2017 Taryn Quinn
Rainbow Rage Publishing
Cover by LateNite Designs
Photo by Sara Eirew Photography
Model: Mike Chabot
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First electronic edition: Taryn Quinn, July 2017
Please join our NEWSLETTER for more information about future books and our back catalog.
About This Book
Have my baby.
That was what my single dad best friend Seth said to me while I was waitressing at the diner.
His little girl wants a sibling. But Seth is a workaholic millionaire and doesn't have time to meet someone.
Someone who won't screw him over, like his kid's mother.
Only problem is this someone has secretly been in love with him since high school. I've been hiding it forever, not wanting to risk our friendship.
Sleeping with him is my biggest fantasy. And I've fantasized plenty, being a virgin. Another thing he doesn't know.
Now I have to make the biggest decision of my life.
Is having a no strings attached affair just to make a baby better than never having him at all?
Author’s note: this case of insta-love and insta-naked-time has been brewing for over a decade. Babymaking has never been so hot…or so funny…or so complicated.
Author’s note part deux: Have My Baby is a standalone rom com with a romantic HEA ending and no cliffhanger.
Prologue
Seth
Almost five years ago
The guy in the suit in the mirror wasn’t me. He couldn’t be. I wasn’t ready to pack it all in yet.
I’d only graduated college a couple of years ago. Marriage? A baby on the way? Fuck, middle-aged guys did that stuff. Me? I was still young and fancy free.
But I wasn’t. Not anymore. Not since the morning Marjorie Maplewood had walked into my office at Hamilton Realty, waving around a white stick that didn’t belong to a popsicle.
This kid is yours, Hamilton. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t. What are you going to do about it?
It had never occurred to me that the child wasn’t mine, but I’d probably stared at her for two full minutes before finding my voice. Marj hadn’t appreciated that, and she’d burst into such loud sobs that my loyal assistant, Shelly, ran in from the reception area with a handkerchief, a mint, and plenty of judgment.
An hour later, we’d been engaged and planning a wedding. Okay, maybe two hours.
Now I was facing my reflection in a spotted mirror in a back room at Our Lady of Peace Church, and the ticking minutes might as well have been a time bomb that wouldn’t be kind enough to kill me.
Jesus, you’re an asshole. She’s the mother of your child.
And I was marrying her. I knew my duty. It wasn’t our child’s fault. Truth was, I already wanted that baby. I had as soon as I’d stopped panicking.
Hell, I was still panicking, but I was moving forward anyway.
A soft knock came at the door and I turned, expecting my father. He was one of the few pleased as could be about this union. Marjorie’s family wasn’t as well-to-do as ours, but they had good social positioning. My father sold property for a living—as did I now—and was always negotiating deals and searching for angles. My mom leaving the family when I was a kid, certainly hadn’t softened him. If anything, he’d become harder and more inflexible.
Everything has a price, Seth. Even people. Especially people.
But it wasn’t my father. The woman standing in the doorway, her dark hair wreathed in a crown of tiny wildflowers, would never worry about social standings or brokering deals. She called me on my shit and made me laugh while doing it.
“Hey, you,” Ally said, and I smiled for the first time since I’d walked into this narrow, stuffy room.
What that said, I didn’t want to analyze.
She took a step forward and for a moment, light surrounded her, making her pale blue dress seem even paler. Almost…white. And if I tilted my head, that crown of flowers on her head could be attached to a veil.
Almost immediately, the tightness in my chest eased and I could breathe again. I wasn’t going to run out of oxygen before I even walked down the goddamn aisle.
“Ally
Cat,” I said, my voice sounding scratchy even to my own ears. I moved forward and gripped her shoulders, drawing her back enough that I could search her eyes. Then she slugged me in the gut and the spell was broken.
I wasn’t marrying Ally. That wasn’t what we were about. We were buddies.
We’d met in Mrs. Danforth’s third period English class in tenth grade on the second day of school. Ally had been absent the first day, and I was a transfer from the godawful prep school my father had sent me to in Connecticut. I’d lasted a year there, which was three years fewer than my twin, Oliver. Then I’d landed in public school in our small town, still unsure if I was making a colossal mistake—sure, prep school had sucked, but school was never fun—and I’d been half as interested in starting Of Mice and Men as I was at looking down Marcie Culpepper’s V-neck top.
Then Ally had hurried into the classroom, her hair done up with crazy sticks, her arms full of books, and dropped into the empty seat beside me. She’d taken one glance at the way I was hunched over my desk to ogle Marcie’s boobs and smirked.
Between that and the fact that I’d assumed she’d ditched the first day of class, I’d figured she was totally badass. I found out later her mom was sick and she’d stayed home with her to keep her company. But my badass opinion of Ally had remained all these years.
This badass chick was my best male friend…who just happened to have a pair of tits.
Sure, occasionally, I noticed more about her than a friend should. Like how her hair always smelled like fucking sunshine, or that her legs seemed six miles long. I always shut that crap down immediately. She’d been dealing with her mother’s illness all along, and with every passing year, her mom grew frailer. I was Ally’s support system. The only certainty she had in her life.
Just as she was mine.
“Seth? Hey, wise ass, you okay?”
I flexed my hands on her shoulders, not quite ready to let go. Normally, I didn’t grab hold of her as if she was my only lifeline, but it sure as hell felt as if I was facing an abyss.
One of my own making.
“What’s going on?” She reached up to lay her hands over mine, and the softness of her skin made me swallow hard.
I had to haul myself back. To remember who I was marrying.
“Nothing. Last minute jitters, I guess.” I smiled and let her go, tucking my itchy hands into my pockets.
Ally smiled, relaxing finally. “Understandable. It’s not every day that Scorer Seth gets put on lockdown.”
See, she was glad I wasn’t going there too. She’d even mentioned my old stupid high school nickname. Scorer Seth, the guy who never missed when he set his mind on a woman. Now I was engaged, and of course, Ally wouldn’t want me going there. But she never had.
Our entire friendship, we’d kept each other firmly in the friend zone. It was safer. Didn’t make sense to risk screwing up a good thing, not when we had so few others we could count on.
We were it for each other. And we always would be.
“Scorer Seth never learned.” Giving in to the urge to touch her one more time, I reached up to adjust her flower crown, and she immediately followed my hand to adjust it herself. That was my girl, always double-checking my work.
I grinned and moved back to the mirror to work some more on my tie. My eternal downfall. Knowing that, she let out a sigh and walked over to fix it for me, accomplishing the task in two seconds flat. When she started to move back, I grasped her wrist and her gaze flew up to mine.
“Promise me this won’t change,” I said urgently.
“What?” She let out a nervous little laugh, the kind I rarely heard from her. No matter what, Ally had her shit together. “You want me to promise to always fix your ties? Okay, I can do that—”
“No. I want you to promise we’ll still be this way together. That just because I have a wife now, we’ll still be like…this.” I gestured between us with my free hand. “That you won’t pull away.”
She laughed again, averting her gaze. Telling me without words she’d intended to do exactly that.
“We’ll always be friends. But your wife will be your best friend now. As she should be. If you’re worrying about me, don’t. I’m good.” She tried to shake off my hold, but when that didn’t happen, she shook back her hair instead. “I’ve got it all handled.”
“What if I don’t? I don’t want this to change. Fuck, Al, you’re my best friend.”
Gently, she pulled away. “We’ll always be friends,” she repeated. “I better get to my seat. It’s almost time. Break a leg, Hamilton.” She flashed a weak smile. “Or whatever you say in times like this.” She leaned up on tiptoe and kissed my cheek. “I’m so happy for you.”
She was gone before I could reply.
I reached up to cup my cheek. My skin was still tingling from her lips.
She hadn’t promised me. The only promises I could count on now were my own. The ones I’d already made to my unborn child, and soon, to my wife.
I would do what was right.
One
Ally
I hopped back a good three feet, but it was way too late. “Aww, come on.”
I stared down at the puddle of coffee dripping from the worn Formica tabletop to the red vinyl booth. The cracked pot in my hand held a jagged edge that could be a prop in a Quentin Tarantino movie. Right down to the coffee-stained orange lip.
If I had to sacrifice my last pair of white Converse sneakers to the coffee gods, at least it should’ve been goddamn full octane coffee, not decaf.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Diggs. Don’t move, okay?”
Mrs. Diggs, one of the diner’s regulars, shuffled to the end of her booth and cupped her mug in her manicured hands. She picked up her feet—clad in bright orange and white sneakers—as the coffee raced toward the wall of windows.
I winced. Dammit, the baseboards needed a scrub again. Maybe I could convince Mitch to let me stay late or come in early one day. I’d been picking up as many shifts as he’d allow me to, but at least if I did this it wouldn’t require talking to people.
I was pretty much talked out.
“Are you all right, dear?”
“Fine. I just don’t want you to get cut, okay? Give me a quick second and I’ll brew you a fresh pot.” Disgusted, I dropped my threadbare towel over the glass and scraped the shards into a pile as I shimmied my way out from under the table. “Sage, can you grab me another towel?” I hollered over my shoulder.
My best friend’s head popped out from around the corner. I gave her a rueful smile as I lost the battle against the river of coffee.
Sage rushed over with a pile of towels and crouched beside me. She blew a honey blond curl out of her face. No matter how many pins Sage Evans jammed into her twisting pile of curls, one invariably escaped. Luckily it only enhanced her heart-shaped face and huge green eyes.
“What happened?” She started mopping up the escaping coffee.
“Careful.” I grabbed her hand just before a hook-shaped shard of glass took a chunk out of her palm.
“Jeez, what did you do?”
I set what was left of the pot on the table. “One too many times left on the burner while empty is my guess. I barely tapped the side of the table and pop-crash.”
“Coffee.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Full pot no less.” I managed not to let the growl or the string of swear words free as I reached back under the booth and mopped up the coffee under Mrs. Diggs’ feet. “Okay, you’re set.”
The woman put her feet down as I crawled back out from under the booth. A pair of dark jeans and black boots stopped two inches from my coffee-splattered khakis.
I knew those boots.
My gaze skipped up to the way his jeans molded to strong thighs and a bulge behind his zipper that had caused me way too many sleepless nights.
My best friend since high school tucked his thumb into his pocket and drummed his fingers lightly against his leg. “Is this a new customer service thing?”
&n
bsp; My mouth tipped up at one corner. If he only knew what kind of service I wanted to offer. “Jerk.”
Even with the slightly burnt decaf wafting up from the floor—and covering me from knee to toes, couldn’t forget that part—there was no denying Seth Hamilton’s delicious toasted sugar and sex scent.
It was some ungodly expensive cologne. I wasn’t exactly proud of the fact that I’d gone to a department store’s counter to take an extra whiff of it. I’d hunted it down so I didn’t seem like some perv by burying my face in his chest to get a better inhale.
However, the bottled version wasn’t nearly as divine as it was on Seth. Probably had something to do with his stupid pheromones.
