Walker meets me with a little smile, and it warms me from the inside out. “Not a chance,” he tells me firmly. "Not a fucking chance."
But I don't miss the slight tremble in his hand when he picks up his clickety-clackety pen and signs his sperm away.
16
Walker
I pull my phone out of my front pocket and check the time. Again.
Fuck. This night is dragging.
Cannon insisted that after Frank came all the way here from New York City to help Penny and me sort out our legal bullshit, the least I could do was take the man out for a drink.
Okay, fine. That's fair, I guess.
Now, we're here at the Frosty Pitcher in a booth at the back and I'm trying to do my best impression of someone who gives a shit about social norms.
It hasn’t been going too well for me, though.
Because Penny is behind the bar, wearing tight jeans with a glittery scrap of a shirt that reveals whispers of her cleavage and midriff, talking and laughing as she mixes up cocktails for rowdy patrons. And despite my conscious efforts to look away, my attention always creeps back in her direction within minutes.
My brother and his lawyer have spent most of the night discussing some legal issues surrounding Cannon's tech company in New York. I’ve zoned in and out of the conversation.
Eventually Cannon slides out of his seat, explaining that he needs to call and check up on Lexi who's having a quiet night in with Iris and Jessa.
I make eye contact with the lawyer.
He nods.
I nod.
We both drop our eyes back to our drinks.
Fun times.
My eyes wander around the room. Jude is here. He's over by the pool tables with Maxwell, Knox and Jason, some of his teammates from the Iowa Paragons football franchise. Every few minutes, they get interrupted for selfies or autographs from eager fans. I would have already lost my shit in their shoes, but the groupies don’t seem to bother them. Jace, in particular, is drinking up the attention, peacocking around the bar with the grin of a champion. Jude keeps checking the time and I know he’s just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make an excuse and go home to his girl.
When I swing my gaze around again, my eyes land on Penny. I feel a tight throb in my gut. The girl is fucking beautiful, vigorously wiggling a martini shaker behind the counter. One of her coworkers comes up to her with a clipboard and they discuss the papers they’re flipping through. Penny grabs a pen and signs a few sheets of paper, before giving the employee instructions.
The worker scampers off and weariness passes through Penny’s features. She pauses for a second to crane her neck from side to side and loosen the knots. But then her smile is right back in place and she’s back on the grind, taking another wave of drink orders.
Watching her makes me smile. The girl is a hustler. I admire the way she’s juggling a dozen things at once. Managing the bar, serving patrons, running her design business, carrying out her motherhood plans. She knows what kind of life she wants and she’s working tirelessly toward it. It's impossible not to admire her spirit, her determination, her fight.
I'm not the only man who notices her. I've seen how many have tried to approach her tonight. She’s turned each of them away with a polite but firm rejection while still managing to come across as sweet and friendly. I don’t know how she does it.
My chest swells and my shoulders square as I watch her turn those men away. Because soon, she and I will share something that none of these thirsty fuckers will ever be able to touch; she'll be carrying my baby. And damn—that makes me feel like a man.
Still, it's killing me that we'll be doing it in a clinic with medical professionals and high-tech gadgets to facilitate the process. I don't want to do it that way. I want to take her delicate body in my arms, kiss her, touch her, fuck her like the beast I am. The way nature intended. But that won't happen. I just need to accept it.
And all this legal shit from earlier is bothering me, too. All the paperwork I signed saying I'll have no part in the child's life, that I’ll have no responsibility for his wellbeing. Fuck. I know that's what Penny and I agreed to but, there's this primal urge in me that says it's just wrong.
I push that voice down, out of respect for Penny's wishes. I'm doing this for her, to make her happy. And trying to raise a stink at this point in the process will only upset her. That's the last thing I want.
I feel eyes on me, and when I look up, I find Frank watching me. "I've seen this before..." the old man says.
"Seen what?" I ask, reaching for my beer bottle.
He adjusts his glasses on his nose. "I call it signer's remorse." When I cock a brow, he continues. "A client commits to an arrangement, signs on the dotted line, and almost immediately, he wants a do-over, he wishes he hadn't made those commitments."
The words hit me hard. What’s the point in denying it? Frank seems like a wise man and he deals with liars all day. He can probably see right through me. Instead of denying my feelings, I might as well ask for his help. “So, what the hell am I supposed to do?" I ask, feeling a little bit desperate.
He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We can bring Miss Merlini back to the negotiating table, try to get her to agree to different terms."
"Well, that's not something I want to do. I don't want to upset Penny." I scrub the back of my neck with blunt fingernails.
The lawyer speaks reluctantly. “I’m not so sure Miss Merlini would be opposed to renegotiating. Something in her demeanor said she wasn’t entirely satisfied with the deal.”
What? What is he talking about? This whole insemination plan was Penny’s idea. Of course she’s satisfied with the deal.
Just as I open my mouth to question the lawyer, a shadow stretches over our table. I glance up and am met by Lucille Merlini's self-assured smile. I snap my mouth shut.
She juts one hip out and plants a fist on her nipped-in waist. “Hello, Walker.”
“Hey, Miss Lucille,” I say to my friend’s aunt.
“I was across the bar and saw you sitting with your friend here—” She glances at Frank who has suddenly lost his stifling professional veneer. He stares in gape-jawed awe, under the siren-like woman’s effect. “—I just wanted to come over and say hi. And wish you good luck on your big day tomorrow.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” I give her a curt nod.
She stares at me for a second, then she drops the whole confident sexpot vibe. Her face goes grave with concern. The woman may be all fun and games and inappropriate flirtation but when it comes to looking out for Iris and Penny, she plays no games. “Are you sure you’re ready, Walker? ‘Cause my niece may act tough but the girl’s got one hell of a fragile heart. She’s been let down too many times. I don’t want to see her get hurt again.”
“You don’t have to worry about that with me, Miss Lucille. I’ve got her back.” Always have. Always will.
The protective woman unflinchingly analyzes my face until she’s sure that she can trust me. Her head bobs slowly and she releases a breath. “Okay. All right. I believe that.” After a beat, her seductive demeanor returns. She throws a kittenish look at Frank, her long eyelashes batting coyly. She tilts herself toward him, showing off her most flattering angle. “So, introduce me to your friend…”
Frank is still staring at her like she’s a Renaissance painting come to life.
“This is Frank Lawman,” I say. “He's the lawyer who helped Penny and me put together a legal contract…for the, uh, sperm donation.”
Lucille eyes him seductively, a predator assessing her prey. “Yes, Penny pointed him out to me from across the bar. Handsome and intelligent. I’m impressed.” She stretches out a dainty hand. “I’m Lucille Merlini, Penny's aunt.”
When the fumbling lawyer reaches out his hand, he accidentally topples his whiskey glass.
He jumps up from his seat, apologizing profusely and sliding napkins at Lucille, not even noticing as the liquid splashes his own pants.
The woman squats elegantly and slowly blots the napkin up the length of her slender calf.
Frank looks on mesmerized and totally flustered. “Again, I'm so sorry. Please let me buy you a drink,” he offers.
Lucille’s mouth curls at the corners. “Oh, I buy my own drinks, darling. But how about this? How about we go on over to the bar and I buy you a drink and you tell me some heroic stories about how a handsome man like you takes down ruthless corporations and gets big, bad guys locked up, or whatever it is you do.” Lucille lays her hand on his shoulder and bats her eyes at him.
“Yes, of course. Yes.” Frank tugs his tie away from his throat.
He doesn’t bother with saying goodbye to me. He’s too busy following Lucille across the room like a lost puppy. She takes his hand and sets it on her waist and he trips on his own feet.
He’s a goner.
I take a sip of my beer to wash back my chuckle. Frank’s about to lose his balls, his heart and his freedom tonight and the poor man doesn’t even know it.
Penny’s eyes catch mine across the room. She tilts her head toward Lucille and Frank, and makes an over-the-top, eyes-bulging, can-you-believe-this-is-happening? expression. I give her an I-know-right? grin in response and she cracks up at our inside joke. Even over the loudness of the music, I can almost hear her giggles in my head and it does something to the inside of my chest. It’s an instant reminder of why I’ve been friends with her my whole life. Things are just easy between us, and I hate the niggling fear that our relationship is about to get a heck of a lot more complicated.
A patron steals her attention and she spins away to take another drink order and I’m left battling that tight feeling beneath my ribcage.
Frank and Lucille are together on high-top stools, talking and laughing and Frank’s expression says it all.
Man down.
Another one bites the dust under the charms of a captivating Merlini woman. I can totally relate.
I feel your pain, dude. I feel your pain.
17
Walker
The weather is growing warmer now and the sun shines brilliantly, high up in the sky. I roll up to Penny’s crumbling curb in my truck. Today’s the big day and here I am, picking her up so we can drive over to the clinic and get this over with. As I watch her bouncing up to the passenger side, I wish I could drum up that much excitement over today’s events.
She climbs into my truck, handing me a travel mug.
"Seatbelt," I grumble.
As usual, she makes sure to roll her eyes a full 360 degrees before she snaps her seatbelt.
I smirk, taking the mug from her. “Coffee?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Actually, no. It’s Horny Goat Sacred Stork Peppermint Fertility Tea. It’s full of horny goat weed, ginko leaf, and licorice. All natural ingredients that will do wonders for your sperm count.”
My gut churns riotously. I gag a little. Horny what?! “What in the actual fuck, Penn? I’m not drinking that.”
She laughs. “Just kidding. It’s coffee. Sorry, I’m just trying to keep the mood light. But seriously. That tea is totally a thing, and I almost bought some online for you, to get your swimmers in tiptop shape.”
I shoot a glare in her direction as we head off toward the clinic. "My swimmers are world-class, thank you very much."
She ignores my stink eye, and I hear a heavy sigh come from her. “I have to admit—I’m a little nervous about today.”
Her confession surprises me. She’s been nothing but excited since she accepted my help. Now that the day is finally here, I expected her to be over the moon.
“Come on, woman. You have nothing to be nervous about, because you’ve got me." She glances over to meet my gaze. "Badass cowboy and your best friend.” I lift my right arm, flexing my bicep. “I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks,” she says with a large grin, melting back into her seat. Her gaze drops to my arm. She bites her lip. “I wonder if the baby will grow up to be strong like you…”
I puff up with pride at her comment. She continues to ramble, trying to make guesses on what her child will look like. What traits will it pick up from each of us? Who’s personality will the baby inherit? She goes on and on, excitedly, and I can see how much she desperately wants this.
She’s going to be a great mother.
But I still can’t get over this vision of getting Penny pregnant in the traditional way. And yes, I'll admit that half of that is just me being a horny pervert. But the other half...I can’t imagine she’s spent the past thirty years dreaming of getting turkey basted while spread-eagle on a table in a cold, sterile medical facility while a bunch of voyeuristic medical students look on.
No. I can’t imagine many women plan on going this route.
It’s their fallback when plans go awry.
Maybe I'm totally out of line but I don’t want that for Penny.
I drink my coffee quietly as we draw closer to the clinic. I’m half-listening to her ramble. I must have missed a cue to speak up though, because she lays her hand on my arm right as I pull my truck into the parking lot. “Are you getting cold feet, Walker?”
'Cold feet' is a fucking understatement. More like frostbite covering every inch of my body. But I will not let this woman down. This is her choice. Her body, her decision. I can’t let my uncertainties get in the way of her dreams.
I meet her bright green gaze with a smile. “My feet are nice and toasty,” I lie.
Penny’s feminine laughter fills the vehicle. "You really are the best friend a girl could ever hope for." She leans in and puckers her soft lips against my cheek. My whole body tingles. “All right. Let’s do this, Big Man.”
With heavy feet, I get out of the truck and follow her inside the clinic. As hard as I try to stifle down my reservations, I take every step with dread.
18
Penny
I get checked in for our appointment and find a seat next to Walker in the waiting room. His knee is bouncing violently next to me, but I try to ignore it. He’s nervous. I can totally relate. I mean, I’m nervous, too. But that’s mostly about being probed and (hopefully) impregnated within the hour.
We sit quietly together until a nurse comes out, followed by a flock of fresh-faced, eager-looking professionals in crisp white coats. The medical students.
The nurse calls my name. Walker stands alongside me, but when I move forward he doesn’t. His feet are firmly rooted to the flowered carpet. I glance back at him, then to the nurse.
“Well, aren't you a tall drink of something sexy?!” The woman eyes him up and down. I feel myself getting a tad territorial. He's with me, lady. Go find your own sperm donor.
The students are huddled together, whispering. One of them glances at Walker and blushes before mouthing to her friend, “He's so hot."
Oh, god—I hope my grumpy farmer didn't catch that. He wouldn't be comfortable with being under the microscope here.
I touch Walker's arm. "You ready?"
He seems to snap out of a trance. "Yes. Of course."
I follow the nurse and her eager ducklings down a brightly-lit hall, and I can hear Walker trailing behind.
We’re left alone in the exam room, and the thickness in the air intensifies. I'm sitting on the examination table while he's hunched forward in one of the plastic chairs along the wall.
I need to stop picturing what he’s going to be doing momentarily. But it’s hard not to think about it. I'm wondering what he'll look like. What expressions he'll make. Will he stroke himself fast or slow? Will he be using magazines? Does he have his own stash of imagery already queued up on his phone? Shit—will he be thinking about me?
Oh. I’m freaking going to hell.
There’s a quiet knock at the door and a medical assistant pokes her head inside before stepping in fully.
“Good morning, guys. It’s time to get started." She smiles, her eyes lingering on Walker as she hands him a small plastic container. "Mr. Kingston, this is for you. The cup is steri
le and sealed for your protection. And Ms. Merlini’s, of course. If you follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”
A mix of relief and anxiety rip through me at her words. This is about to happen. Now. There's no time to turn back, no time for roadblocks or obstacles to get in the way...Right?
Um, not so fast.
Walker’s eyes meet mine briefly. “Can I get a minute alone with Penny?” He glances at the assistant.
“Of course. I’ll be just down the hall...Waiting for you,” she says—which I feel is an odd choice of words—and then sashays out the door.
Walker’s hand reaches forward and pushes the door the rest of the way closed. It clicks loudly.
I swing my legs over the side of the exam table and face him head on. His eyes dart around the space for a long moment before they meet mine. I don’t have a good feeling about this.
Finally he speaks. “This cup thing is making me itchy.”
I swallow, my pulse rate amplifying with anxiety. “I know it’s weird. Just… don’t picture the cup. You can try to—”
“No,” he interrupts. “I can’t.” He slams the container down on the nearby counter. The loudness of the plastic cracking makes me flinch. “I can’t do this.”
I blink. "W-what?"
He's pacing the room now, shoving his massive hands through his hair. "I'm not doing this."
My insides are wilting, even as I'm nodding. Yes, I'm nodding because as much as I want a baby, I'm above begging this man for a cupful of sperm. “Okay. Okay, I understand,” I tell him, still nodding like an idiot. I knew this was all too good to be true. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. “This was a huge ask of me. Huge. If you can’t do it, I understand.”
But I don’t.
This was all his idea. He’s the one who came up with the plan to help me. All this best friend talk about not letting me do this alone. I gave him every opportunity to back out. And he decides to do it here, moments before I’m supposed to be in the process of being knocked up?
Mister Baby Daddy (Bad Boys in Love Book 3) Page 10
