Mister Baby Daddy (Bad Boys in Love Book 3)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  "Let it go, P. You're not winning this fight." Ignoring her protests, I slide enough money into the bill folder to cover our dinner and a generous tip.

  She pouts her ass off as I help her out of her chair and guide her toward the door. When we exit the restaurant, there's a perfect, round moon in the sky. Penny suggests a stroll down the promenade, to walk off that huge meal she gobbled down.

  She grips tight to my arm as we meander along the waterfront. She shares her excitement with me, her dreams of the life she wants to give our baby—her baby—and it's killing me slowly that no part of those dreams includes me.

  When she shivers, I drape my jacket around her shoulders. When she yawns, I turn her back in the direction of my truck.

  The ride is quiet. Penny curls up in her seat, her head lolling and it's clear that she's worn herself out. Within minutes, we're standing at Penny's door. She breathes a sigh as she pulls her key from the lock. Just inside the door, she kicks off her high heels and snickers with relief.

  I look down into her beautiful face. I tuck back a strand of her windblown hair. I'm in complete awe of the woman. A stupid, hopeful part of me is wishing she'll invite me inside but I know...she doesn't need me 'that way' anymore. We're back to being just friends.

  Fuck...so what now? She's pregnant and I'm just supposed to stop? Stop needing her? Stop craving her? Stop loving her? Just go back to being friends? Fuuucckkk.

  She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you, Walker," she whispers as her arms come around my back for a tight hug. "Thank you for dinner. And thank you for giving me the thing I've always dreamed of." She looks up into my eyes. "I'm going to have the family I've always wanted, and that's because of you."

  I’m sure she has the best of intentions as she utters the words but I feel a stab in my gut. This moment feels like the end of something significant. But I don’t want it to be over.

  I’ve always wanted a family, too. A safe place where I don't feel like an outsider. I guess that, deep down, I was wishing I could carve myself a space in hers. But I'm not a part of the grand vision Penny has for her life.

  A nod is all I can muster as I back away toward the staircase. My friend gives me one last, little smile. With a hand low on her belly, she softly closes the door, shutting me on the outside.

  30

  Penny

  The elevator dings open and through the hospital room's open blinds, I see Walker emerge from the lift. His thick brows are furrowed over darkened eyes and now he's prowling down the hospital's short hallway.

  Fuck, that walk of his.

  I grip the bed railing and brace myself.

  It’s the morning after our dinner at Le Sous-Sol. Sleep didn’t come easily last night. When Walker dropped me off on my doorstep, it took everything in me not to nuzzle against his chest and pull him into my room and tangle my body around his like a baby kinkajou. I think my brain is under invasion by horny-making pregnancy hormones because all I wanted was to get my hands on the man and do dirty, dirty things to his body.

  But I realize a little distance would be good for us. Now that I’m finally pregnant, I know it’s best to give my friend some space so that he can fall back into the rhythm of his old life and I can discover a new rhythm for this baby and me.

  I decided that I’d show up to continue my project at his cabin but after work I wouldn’t linger. I’d spend my nights reading pregnancy books and listening to podcasts for single mothers instead of showing up at his house needy for attention. I’d put my focus on me and my child. I’d submerge myself in this new life that I’m building, and eventually, my feelings for Walker would fade away.

  Less than 24 hours later, fate has pissed all over my plans.

  Now he’s barreling down the hallway like a steamroller. I have nowhere to run and from the hammering of my heart, it’s abundantly clear that I’m not equipped to deal with seeing Walker so soon.

  A moment later, he bursts into the room.

  "There he is!" Cannon glances up and greets his brother with a grin.

  A beaming Alexia snuggles their tiny, gurgling bundle of pink to her chest. "It's Uncle Walker," she mumbles into the newborn's ear. "Say hi to Uncle Walker."

  My friend went into labor in the middle of the night. She and Cannon didn't start making calls until Baby Diana had made her grand entrance into the world.

  Now, family and friends are beginning to trickle in to make their introductions to the Kingston family's latest bundle of joy. The proud grandma and grandpa are snuggled in each other's arms as they hover over the bed, cooing sweet words about the baby.

  Iris and Jude just rushed in after finishing up some football business in Iowa this morning.

  Lexi’s parents are on the road as we speak.

  Jessa will come by with Callie after breakfast.

  And Walker? He’s here.

  The man doesn’t acknowledge anyone in the room. His eyes are transfixed to his newborn niece. He’s carrying a big basket of fresh fruit. He sets it down on a table. He accepts a squirt of hand sanitizer from his excited brother and thoroughly rubs his big palms together.

  He takes a tentative step closer to the bed and I shift in my seat, causing my plastic chair to let out a groan. Walker halts. When his eyes land on me, a mini-eternity passes between us. He takes a moment to give me a smile.

  And, oh damn. I feel that little smile like a bolt to the chest.

  "Hi..." I mouth across the room to him.

  "Hi..." he mouths back.

  That one word from him makes my belly flip.

  Alexia places Baby Di into Walker's strong, capable arms and he stares down at the little child with awe. Every vertebra of my spinal column melts. I clutch the bed rail harder.

  Walker bounces in place, gently stroking the baby girl's chest. It’s ironic describing a big, burly, grumpy farmer as adorable but that’s exactly what he is right now. Adorable and fascinated and awestruck by the child in his arms.

  While our friends debate about whose features the little girl inherited, the handsome farmer’s eyes again lift to mine from across the room. Something grave and reverent reflects in his honey-toned irises.

  Our eye contact holds for a long moment. I get a vision of him holding my—our?—baby. The image overwhelms me with an emotion I can't seem to control. I swallow, trying to push it down, trying to remind myself of the deal he and I struck weeks ago.

  All he promised me was his sperm, not a family, not a life together. A wave of emotion rises up my esophagus and I quietly mutter something about morning sickness.

  But the reminder of the things I’ll never have with Walker is what has me feeling nauseous. That reminder pounds in my temples like a migraine. I move toward the door and excuse myself from the room.

  In the bathroom, I brace my hands on the edge of the wet sink. I stare myself in my watery eyes and I give myself a harsh, but much-needed reality check. My child deserves a mother who is dedicated to him, not a strung-out fool who’s obsessed with a man who never was and will never be hers.

  The chapter of my life where I continuously lost my head, my heart and my body to Walker Kingston is over. It’s time to turn the page.

  It’s time to grow the hell up.

  31

  Penny

  I usually look forward to my day off. A morning to sleep in and do absolutely nothing productive. Now that I'm pregnant and working two jobs, lord knows I could use a break.

  But not having to work at Walker’s cabin today just leaves me feeling restless. I like spending my mornings on the front lawn, reupholstering lampshades and couch cushions and bossing the contractors around. Occasionally spotting Walker stalking across the fields in his tight Wrangler jeans, through the cabin's tiny windows. Hearing him curse when a tractor doesn't start or when a chicken flies loose of the coop. It all keeps me quite entertained.

  I've missed him.

  True, he drops by when I'm working on his cabin remodel but we haven't really hung out si
nce we went to dinner last week. I don't know if it's all these pregnancy hormones coursing through me but my body and heart feel like they're going through withdrawals without his touch. I'm back to craving the feeling of his hands on me every night.

  To keep myself from doing anything dumb, like showing up at the barn today to ogle Walker at work, I give myself a long list for the day. One look at my messy apartment, and I know I have plenty to do to keep me busy on my day off.

  Over breakfast, I sip my tea while catching up on my monthly bills. In between kissing goodbye to a chunk of my bank account and nibbling on toast to keep the morning nausea away, I also manage to get ahead on laundry for the week.

  By the end of the morning, I’m feeling good and accomplished. I reward myself by heading into town. I spend the afternoon window-shopping for baby items. Although I’ve already started gathering my baby store coupons, I suppose there’s not much I should be buying so early on in my pregnancy. At this point, I don't even know whether I should be going for pinks or blues.

  Regardless, I’ve been dying to go indulge in all things 'baby'. To walk up and down those pastel-colored aisles, gushing over the itsy bitsy shoes, the tiny clothes with the tiny buttons and tiny bows, and the adorable baby animal-themed crib bedding. There's no harm in day-dreaming a little.

  It's an hour or so before dinnertime when I finally get back home. I'm overtaken by the urge to call my mother. Iris and Aunt Lucille already know about my pregnancy, so it’s probably only a matter of time before my mom catches wind of it. I’d rather her hear it from me, and to be honest, I’m kind of excited to tell her.

  It’s hard to fight the grin on my face as I curl into the corner of my couch and dial up her phone number. She picks up on the first ring.

  “Hey, Mom. How are you?”

  “Penelope, dear,” she drones. “I’m doing wonderfully, but can I call you back in a bit? I'm in D.C., walking into a meeting at the Mauritian embassy.” I hear the steady drum of stilettos and voices chattering animatedly in the background.

  My eyes roll back. Of course. Of course my mother is too busy for her only daughter. I rise to my feet, unsure why I thought I’d need to get cozy for this conversation. My calls with my mother never last more than a few seconds.

  Normally, I’d just let her hang up. But if I don’t get these words out now, I don't know when I'll get another chance to share my good news with her.

  Pacing my living room, I blurt out. “I’m pregnant, Mom. I’m having a baby...” My heart flutters with excitement just hearing the words leave my mouth. A baby. I’m going to have my own family.

  But I don't get excitement from my mother in return. The stiletto-drumming stops. She falls silent. And after a long pause, "What do you plan on doing, Penelope?"

  The words swipe like sharp claws tearing through my happy bubble. For real, Mom?

  "I plan on having my baby," I tell her forcefully. "I plan on loving it. I plan on being a mother." My vision is now blurry from tears.

  I get another long bout of silence from the woman. "If it's money you need, just send an email to my personal assistant, Eduardo, and he'll be sure to—"

  "I'm not asking you for money. I'm asking you to be happy for me, to be excited about the fact that you're about to be a grandmother."

  But of course, that's too much to ask.

  There's another prolonged silence and then my mother speaks in a robotic voice. "Congratulations, then, dear." She clears her throat. "Oh, I have a call on the other line."

  My heart drops to the floor as she rushes out a quick goodbye and hangs up on me.

  I stand, lost, in the middle of my apartment as I stare at my phone. I toss the stupid device at my couch and watch it bounce then clatter to the floor.

  My eyes burn with the need to shed my bubbling emotions. It hurts far worse than I should let it. How am I not used to this yet? I clench both my jaw and my fists, fighting the urge to cry. I will not cry. I will not let her do this to me.

  My mom wasn’t there for any of my life. She’s missed every important moment. Every one of them. And now, on the literal motherload of all moments, she’s proven herself consistent. She doesn’t care. She doesn’t care that I’m finally getting the opportunity to have something she never gave me.

  A family. A tiny family of my own.

  32

  Walker

  I felt edgy not seeing Penny around the cabin today. I know the woman needs her day off, just like everyone else, but damn, I’ve gotten used to her company on the farm. It didn’t feel right, being without her. Now that we aren’t stumbling into bed together on the daily, seeing her at work is what I look forward to most.

  I walked into my house at least three different times this afternoon, forgetting that it was empty, hating that it was so damn quiet. Even though I give her crap about her love of pop songs, today I missed hearing her cheesy music playing in the background while she works.

  Can I admit something? Some of it is kind of catchy. I caught myself mumbling a Lady Gaga song while I was cleaning the horse stables earlier.

  Who am I anymore?

  By the time evening rolls around, I'm nearly coming out of my skin. With the important things on my list done for the day, I decide to break away from the farm and go check on Penny at home. I'm bringing her dinner. That's my excuse. Now that she’s eating for two, it’s important to make sure she gets enough. Cooking for one just plain sucks, so I doubt she does much cooking during the week. I know I don’t.

  Holding a cloth bag full of cheeseburgers and fries from the fast food place in town, I bang on the front door to her apartment. I make a mental note to tighten the screws on the hinges. The damn thing rattles every time I knock. That can’t be safe when you have a kid running around, right?

  There's no response. All I hear is loud, loud music bleeding through the door. So I knock again. I remember seeing her little old hatchback parked on the curb outside. Penn should be here, too.

  My stomach churns. 'Fragile' has never been a word I'd use to describe Penny, but ever since I found out she’s pregnant, I can’t help but worry about her.

  I grab my keys, thumbing through them quickly to find the emergency key Penny made me. This seems like as good a time as any to put it to use. I have to make sure she’s okay.

  As soon as I swing the door open and step inside her apartment, relief floods through me. She’s here. She’s okay.

  The woman is on her knees, bent over. Her hands are frantically scrubbing the tiles on her kitchen floor.

  “Penn?”

  She doesn’t hear me because of the ear-splitting music throbbing in the air. I’m next to her in three large steps, hooking my arms around her and hauling her to her feet. She squeals, struggling in my arms until she twists around and spots my face. Then she smacks me in the chest. Hard.

  “Dammit, Walker! You scared me!” Her chest heaves with her hand over her heart.

  “Didn’t mean to. Sorry,” I mumble. “What the hell is going on here anyway? I’ve been knocking on your door.”

  She glances around the room. At the front door that’s still standing wide open. Then back toward me. “Nothing. Just cleaning,” she says with a shrug.

  My eyes take her in more clearly. There’s some sort of shit smudged across her forehead. It’s smeared on her cheek, too, where it looks like she’s been wiping sweat off her temple. Throw in a rag gown, and you’d have Cinderella in here.

  What the fuck is going on?

  I step closer and narrow my eyes at her. “Come on, Princess. Have you seen yourself? This isn’t you.”

  She blows out a puff of air. “What? I’m fine.”

  I angle my head to the side. “I know you well enough to know you’re not okay.”

  Her eyes lock with mine. Her bottom lip trembles. That only amps up my anxiety.

  “What’s wrong, Penn. Talk to me. Did something happen with the baby?” My heart is racing.

  Her eyes water as she shakes her head. “No. No, no
thing like that." She runs a fist beneath her reddened nose. "I just…I talked to my mom.” She sounds utterly defeated. Embarrassed. Hurt.

  My chest deflates. Even without knowing the ugly details, I know her mother royally disappointed her somehow. I’ve been around Penny enough years to see all the ups and downs where her mom is concerned, and it’s no exaggeration to say their relationship has basically been a clusterfuck of ‘downs’.

  That’s one woman who doesn't deserve to be a mother. But Penny is too sweet to shut the lady-jerk out of her life, like she should.

  I step forward, wrapping my arms around the pretty girl. She buries her flushed face into my chest. I squeeze her warm body as it shudders with each sob. “Oh, Penn…” I whisper into her messy hair. I hate seeing her like this. Makes me so damn mad.

  “Having a parent who doesn’t care…” she sniffles into my shirt. “She makes me feel so worthless. Like I did something wrong to deserve this.”

  “No, Penn. You don't deserve this.” I rake my fingers through her hair, sifting through the knots. "You deserve the world."

  “You’re so lucky to have perfect parents. To have the perfect family." Penny's head tips up and her watery eyes find mine. "I want to give that to my baby." When she says that, my heart gives an achy throb against my ribs.

  Perfect? I scoff at the word.

  If only she knew the truth. No one knows the truth. The Kingston family is far from perfect. I'm the one smudge blemishing the flawless picture of domestic bliss.

  That's what drew me to Penny in the very beginning, when we were kids, the fact that we had that one thing in common. I know what it’s like to have a parent abandon you. I know what it’s like to feel worthless. To be an outsider.

  “Perfect is an illusion, Penny.”

  She frowns up at me and her lips part like she's about to ask me what I mean. But my family's secrets are the last thing I want to talk about tonight.