So many times I’ve wanted to break down these walls, let Penny all the way inside, confide in her. But that would mean opening up to her, sharing the core of my identity with her. Not convinced it’d be worth it.
"Let's have some dinner," I say quickly. "Then, I'll help you finish cleaning up the floor."
She nods slightly and takes a step back, out of my arms. She gives me a watery-eyed smile. "I'm starving..."
After we scarf down cold burgers and soggy fries, I roll up my sleeves and join her on the floor with a sponge. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her watching me. Her eyes rake up from my fingers to my forearms to my shoulders.
When her gaze moves to my face, she finds me staring at her. I lift a brow for an explanation and her cheeks redden almost guiltily. Damn, Penny. Are you checking me out?
Maybe that's just me being optimistic. Maybe I'm a little hopeful that she feels some of the same things I feel for her.
"I'm so grateful," she says softly. "I'm so grateful to have you in my life."
"I'm grateful to have you, too, P."
She smiles and turns back to our task.
We make decent progress on the floor, with both of us scrubbing the dirty grout lines. “We should get back here, too,” I say, rising to my feet when we’re just about done.
“That's heavy. Let me help you,” she offers, when she sees me moving toward the stove.
"I’ve got it.” I wave her off. "Pregnant women shouldn’t be lifting anything. Besides, it’s just a stove. I’ve lifted small tractors twice this size."
Her pupils dilate and she drags her bottom lip between her teeth when her gaze falls back to my arms. I'm not fucking imagining this. Penny wants me.
I turn away from her to hide my smile. Gripping the edges of the stove, I gently shift the rusty metal appliance away from the wall. That gives me a couple feet of floor space to scrub.
But then I glance at the wall space I just uncovered. “Holy shit.”
“What?” she asks, standing behind me on her tiptoes.
“Mold." I spit out. "It’s all mold. And it’s fucking everywhere."
33
Penny
I’m a pouty jerk as I follow my friend up the beaten dirt path to the front door of his cabin. “You’re overreacting, Walker,” I say for the third time.
Again, the righteous bastard ignores me. He just sets down my suitcase and rummages around in his pocket for his keys.
“It was just a little mold,” I try to reason. Definitely not enough of it to sweep me off my feet and carry me outside like my whole place had gone up in flames.
He unlocks his door like I’m not even there. Like I’m not trying to hold an adult conversation with him.
“You don’t have to move me into your house just because of a little mold.”
He pushes the door open and stands aside, sweeping an arm to gesture me inside. I huff. Loudly.
“It’s really not a big deal, Walker.” I’m moments away from ripping my hair out. He’s so freaking difficult sometimes.
I glare at his handsome, stupid face. He holds my gaze unapologetically. He's not gonna back down about this. He simply cocks a brow, waiting for me to enter.
See? Bastard.
I roll my eyes and stomp into the half-renovated living room like an angry, petulant child.
I reach for my suitcase—the one he packed for me when he wouldn’t let me re-enter my own apartment—but he grabs for it at the same time as I do. When our fingertips touch, a herd of inappropriate memories about the things we did together in this house come storming in, trampling my resolve like wild horses.
The sensation of his breaths bursting rapidly at the curve of my neck.
The sinfully delicious sting of my bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
The undulating shudder of his torso clenching against mine as he pinned me to the mattress and pistoned into me.
The feel of his velvety tongue dipping into the crease of my ass...
Holy hell. It’s too warm in his rustic little cabin. It's like the walls are throbbing with reminders of the erotic nights we shared.
This—me staying here—is a really bad idea.
With my suitcase as his hostage, Walker stalks down the hall. I have no choice but to follow him while I struggle to ignore the curve of his ass in those tight Wrangler jeans.
"I know the way..." I call out snarkily from behind him. “I’ve slept in this bedroom before.”
Well, I’ve done a lot more than just sleep in this bedroom, actually. But those thoughts make me hot and sweaty and out of breath. Those thoughts need to go away, before I make a fool of myself. Man, these pregnancy hormones are out of control.
He drops my suitcase to the floor, just inside the door. “You’ll take the bed,” he utters. His first words to me since he peeled away from my building’s curb.
He moves around the room stiffly, flipping on the old lamp and then the fan in the corner. Talk about turndown service.
“There’s extra towels in the hall closet, right next to the bathroom door.” Walker glances around the small space. “If you get cold tonight, there are more blankets in the chest over there.” He gestures with his chin.
His cloudy brown eyes meet mine. If he’s waiting for a thank-you, he’s certainly not getting one from me. I give him my best death glare instead.
Finally, he cracks. His broad shoulders slump and he exhales with force. “I’m just trying to protect you, Penn.”
Damn him. Why does he have to be sugar-sweet? Makes me feel unreasonable for wanting to knee him in those baby-making balls?
Instead, I scowl and cross my arms over my chest as he continues. “You may not care about some mold but you should. Think about the baby. Think about the health risks. Wouldn't you rather err on the side of caution here?”
Damn him again. Damn him for being right.
I'll admit—breathing that god awful mold every day is probably bad news. Staying here at Walker’s cabin, just for a while is in my best interest—and the baby’s.
“This isn’t practical, Walker. Your cabin is virtually smaller than my place and you only have one bedroom here. Where are you even going to sleep?”
Internally, I'm begging him to respond, 'In the bed. With you.' I want to feel him spooned up behind me with an arm around my waist and his morning wood nestled against my ass.
Instead he says, ”On the couch."
"Your couch isn't comfortable."
"Don't worry about me," he says. When I pout some more, he grabs my hand, yanking me to his chest. Now I’m pressed firmly against that hard body I know so well. "Sleeping on the couch is a small sacrifice to make for you."
And those words make my knees go shaky beneath me.
Walker plants a kiss on the top of my head. Firecrackers ignite in my belly. As furious as I am, it's a feeling I can't ignore. “Can you please stop putting up a fight?” he begs. “Please?”
I push the air out of my lungs. It’s nearly impossible to stay mad at this man, even if he is being a little dramatic. “Fine. But only if you’ll help me find a new apartment. My lease is almost up on that piece of crap anyway.”
He makes a face. “You’re better off staying with me for the rest of your pregnancy. It’ll save you some money for when the baby comes.”
"Are you for real, Walker Kingston?" This infuriating man did not just invite me to stay at his place for an extended amount of time. “No way. That’ll never work.”
Spending my nights here when we were trying to get me pregnant was one thing. Daily, the sexual tension between us would build to dangerous levels but at least I could always look forward to the release of a hard orgasm...or four. But having to be his roommate? Having to be around him day and night with no reprieve? I’d be in a world of horny, sleepless, hormonal trouble.
He grunts on a rough exhale. Because he's still got me trapped in his arms, his warm breath flutters across my forehead. “Fine. If you stop fighting me, I’ll help you fin
d a place.” He doesn’t sound too thrilled with the idea, but I’ll consider that a win. The man’s as stubborn as I am.
A smile teases my lips. “Deal.”
He steps back, patting my hip. “Alright then.” Walker steps out of the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.
I was trying to get over him. I thought I was making progress.
But now, Walker Kingston has infiltrated every area of my life. My work, my home, my uterus.
My heart.
I don’t stand a chance.
34
Walker
I slept like a rock out here on my newly reupholstered couch. The velvety teal blue fabric Penny chose is soft as fuck.
It hasn’t escaped me that she chose her favorite color. But I like it. I like the curtains and the lampshades and the knickknacks. I like all of it. I like having little pieces of her sprinkled throughout my home.
I wake up, smiling. The stiff neck from using the armrest as a pillow doesn’t even faze me. Despite my uncomfortable accommodations last night, I still managed to get the best sleep I’ve had in over a week. I know it’s because Penny’s asleep in my bedroom, just a few steps away. It would have been even better to wake up beneath the sheets with her, but I’ll take what I can get.
As the first rays of sunlight peek up the horizon, I dress and move around my cabin quietly, getting ready for the day. After I have my toast and coffee, I take a few extra minutes to heat up some oatmeal and load up a bowl of fresh fruit, leaving them on the counter for my beautiful guest to find when she wakes up.
She went to bed pretty early. I’m assuming the unpleasant conversation with her mother and then scrubbing her apartment from top to bottom wore her out. So I'm sure she’ll be hungry when she gets out of bed.
She used the bathroom a million times last night. I could tell she tried to creep quietly in the hall, but the squeaky floor board outed her every time. And every time I’d hear her, I’d open my eyes and crane my neck, watching her disappear into the bathroom and listening just in case she needed some help.
Penny may not see it but this arrangement is what’s best for both of us. I want to know how she’s doing every day. I need to check on how she’s feeling every night. I want to be a part of her pregnancy. And she needs me, even though she may not realize it.
There’s this part of me screaming that I’m smothering the girl, that I’m being overprotective and encroaching on her life. But Penny’s been the center of my world since the first day I met her, practically my whole damn life. I can’t help but be worried about her. It’s normal to want everything to go well for her. Right?
Shit, I know damn well there’s more to it than that.
Usually, I don’t like it when people get too close. Yet, with Penny, I want to pull her into my bubble and hold her hostage there, keep her with me always. The girl is special to me.
I lace up my boots and trek out into the fields, enjoying the sunlight that streaks through the trees. I don’t make it far before coming across my parents. They're out taking an early walk together.
“Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Ma asks wistfully, staring off toward the cluster of maple trees concealing Eli’s house on the edge of the river.
“Sure is.” I follow her gaze, suddenly feeling a little nostalgic at the reminder of my brother.
Mom quickly snaps out of her thoughts. She drapes an arm around my back and I drop a kiss on her cheek.
“What are you working on today, son?” Dad asks, eyes flicking around the farm.
I give him a rundown of all the projects I hope to finish by this evening. I don't mention that I’ll also need to give Penny a ride to her house so she can pick up her own car. I didn't take that into account when I kidnapped her yesterday.
My father squints back toward my cabin. “I think I'll take Callie for a ride this morning. I've got to find her bicycle, though. It's buried under a load of crap in the shed.” The shed he's speaking of is right next to my house. Specifically, right next to my bedroom window.
“Um…maybe you could wait another hour or two before you get started?” I hesitate. "Penny's still sleeping."
My parents’ eyes swing toward me. Dad's gaze narrows while my mom gives me this pathetically hopeful look.
“There’s a problem at her apartment and she needs a place to crash for a while,” I say to dispel any of their assumptions.
A few days ago, I decided to be direct with my parents and tell them that Penny’s pregnant. I wanted them to hear it from me. Not my blabbermouth brothers or their women or worse yet, the gossip mill around town. When we had the discussion, I could see that they were both holding their tongues. I know they still think I made a mistake by doing things this way. But they don’t understand Penny like I do.
Ma sighs loudly. “I wish you two would just…”
Her words trail off when Dad gives her this look. The one where he tightens his mouth into a thin line. The one that says, 'Don’t push it, woman'. I know it well. I have a suspicion that I use that same look when Penny tries to get under my skin.
“Well, I’ll leave you men to it, then,” Mom says, a hint of her annoyance peeking through. “I’ve got to get back to the guesthouse. We’re booked for an engagement party tonight, and we’ve got to get everything decorated.” She gives me another quick hug before sharing a kiss with my dad. Then, she throws one last longing glance toward my brother’s house, causing my heart to crack a little. I hate how torn up she is over Eli’s situation.
We watch Ma trod off, back in the direction of the guesthouse. Then my father claps me on the back. I think that’s going to be goodbye, but he follows me toward the barn. “How’s the remodel going with Penny? I bet she covered every inch of the cabin with rainbows and floral patterns.”
“It's going great, actually,” I answer with a muted laugh. “She's making everything a little bit fancier but overall, I think she really does know my style.”
Dad chuckles and mumbles under his breath. “I think that girl knows everything about you." When I shoot him a look, he holds up both hands in surrender. "Your mother and I promised ourselves we wouldn't meddle."
"Ma? Ma won't meddle?" I speak in a disbelieving tone. “It’s only a matter of time until the woman cracks and all her opinions come spewing free.”
There's amusement on his face. He shrugs a shoulder and shoves his hands into his pockets as we stroll.
"That's good..." I say but after we walk some more, I’m the one who just can't hold my tongue. "Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy, like I have no damn idea what I'm doing. I told myself that once she got pregnant, we'd just go back to being friends like we were before. But now that she's carrying my baby, I want to protect her, I want to take care of her. I want to be there for her." My heart feels raw, fragile and out in the open. “I’m trying to respect her wishes about the single mother thing but—dammit, Dad—I want to be her man."
I'm feeling a tight pull in my chest. The level of idiocy of signing that legal contract is finally starting to sink in.
My father’s pace slows to a stop. He turns to me and speaks forcefully. “We’ve had this conversation before. You know where I stand on it. If a relationship is what you want, figure it out, tell her, be a man about it. And do it before you miss your chance.”
My mouth is clamped shut. Dad always tried the hardest with me. I was never sure if it was a genuine bond between a man and his oldest son, or if he just felt sorry for my grumpy ass.
I don't want to dismiss what he’s saying or take his advice lightly. My father has been through the fire to protect our family. So, I know that what he's telling me, he's saying from experience.
“Just think about it, Walker. You could be one conversation away. One conversation away from the life you've always wanted with the woman you've always loved. All you've gotta do is take a chance. Open your mouth and dare to tell her how you really feel.”
Outwardly, I stay silent but in my head, I’m compiling a list of reaso
ns why I shouldn’t go blabbing to Penny about my feelings. The girl is my best friend. Our friendship has stood the test of time. I was Penny’s defender throughout her turbulent childhood when she had more troubles than any little girl should ever have to shoulder on her own, and she was my escape as I silently endured a scary period of family drama that nearly tore my childhood household apart. We made it through our hormonal adolescence without growing apart. In her senior year, she turned down her army of pursuers and dragged me with her to the prom. I was her clueless but dedicated nurse after she had her liver sawed up. We’ve figured everything out together.
But what if we can’t figure this out?
Friendship, I can handle. I can safeguard it, protect it, make it last. On the other hand, love is volatile. It goes sour fast. It can blow up right in your face. But more and more I’ve been thinking loving Penny might be worth the risk.
Dad seems to be reading me like a book. He shakes his head. “This is your turn to decide, son. Just figure out what you want, figure out what you’re willing to fight for…and fight, dammit.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t mess it up with that girl.”
I nod, my heart kicking out an anxious beat. “I’ll try not to,” I utter, unable to promise much more. Having a hard time maintaining eye contact, I glance off to where Mom is struggling on the steep slope up toward the guesthouse.
Dad claps me on the back again. “Tell Penny we say hello,” he requests and then turns back, following Ma’s trail like a determined man, like she’s all he’s ever wanted.
35
Penny
I’m in the kitchen, hunched over the ironing board with my little radio playing pop music. I’m trying to get the pleats out of the new bedroom curtains.
I look an absolute mess in oversized flannel and shorts. Walker didn’t pack me nearly enough clothes when he filled my suitcase, and I haven’t been back to my apartment to collect more. But despite my tragically unfashionable wardrobe, I’m happy and singing and wiggling my butt in time to my music.
Mister Baby Daddy (Bad Boys in Love Book 3) Page 17
