Mister Baby Daddy (Bad Boys in Love Book 3)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  It’s been a few days since the mold fiasco at my apartment, and my annoyance with Walker’s dominating behavior has nearly subsided. I’d never admit it to him but it’s not half bad, staying out here on the farm. It’s peaceful. Relaxing. Exactly what this bloated, tired, pregnant lady needs.

  I adore the way this remodel is turning out. Sometimes, I have to rein myself in because I get carried away, injecting a bit too much of my personal preferences into the space but Walker hasn’t complained. In fact, I think he likes it for the most part.

  The thought of the big man makes excitement ripple through my tummy. I haven’t seen him all day. He’s usually gone before I wake up in the morning, getting an early start around the farm. Yet, I always find some sort of breakfast waiting for me in the kitchen. At lunch time, he comes by with a plate of food from his parents’ guesthouse.

  It’s been nice having someone taking care of me for once. It’s something I definitely am not accustomed to. It’s sweet, knowing he cares.

  Don’t get carried away, Penny. He’s doing it all for the baby.

  Walker has always had this generous gene that forces him to care for everyone around him. Despite his reclusive, grumpy nature, he's a full-on protector for the people he loves. I’ve always known that. But I’m becoming a swoony mess for his nurturing side, too.

  Again, he’s doing…it…for…the…baby.

  The constant reminders are necessary so my silly brain doesn’t forget. If he’s getting up extra early to fry me an egg, I’m sure he’s just operating on auto-pilot.

  “Knock, knock,” a female voice sounds from behind me, breaking me out of my daydreaming. I really need to cut that shit out while I’m on the clock here. I don’t think Walker is paying me to sit around and try to figure him out.

  I turn and find Jessa poking her head in through the backdoor.

  “Hey girl!” I turn off the iron and amble across the room to greet her with a hug.

  Her smile lights up the kitchen. “I’m about to take off for the weekend. I just wanted to check in on you before I leave.” Jessa passionately dedicates herself to her role as little Callie’s nanny most days of the week but she gets every other Saturday and Sunday off. And she deserves it. The adorable angel is a handful.

  “Oh my gosh, yes! I need a lemonade break and some girl talk.” I laugh as I head for the refrigerator.

  Now that I’m staying here, too, I’ve been seeing more of Jessa, and I’m definitely not complaining because I love her face. The girl is a walking, talking ball of ‘happy’.

  I emerge from the fridge a second later with a pitcher of juice, fresh fruit and some other snacks. She slings her handbag over the back of her chair and grabs glasses from the cabinet. We sit at the table.

  “What ya got there?” I jut my chin at the envelope poking out the top of her handbag.

  “Uh…nothing. Just, um, job applications. Gotta drop by the post office.” She hurriedly stuffs down the mail and zips her purse shut.

  I grin to myself and shove a pickle into my mouth to hide it. Yup! Jessa’s definitely got herself a secret and I’m sure it’s juicy!

  My eyes flutter into my head and I groan with pleasure when I crunch into my pickle.

  “Well, you’re not cliché at all.” My friend juts her chin at my bottle of sweet and tangy preserved cucumber goodness.

  I smile around a mouthful. “My cravings are pretty boring. It’s just me and my pickles all damn day.” Walker filled an entire shelf in the fridge.

  Jessa snatches up her full glass. “Could be worse.” She wrinkles up her face. “Remember Lexi went through that bacon-wrapped chocolate phase in her second trimester?”

  I fake-gag at the memory.

  “I can whip up a batch for you if you want to shake things up a little,” she offers sarcastically.

  I laugh. “I’ll pass. I think I’m good with my pickles.”

  Jessa forgoes the healthy snacks I put on the table and opts for the toffee she pulls from her pocket instead. She slides a few pieces across the table to me. “Anyway, how’s your morning sickness? Any better?” she asks as she opens the noisy candy wrapper.

  “Not that bad. I know others have it way worse,” I muse. “But the nausea still hits me throughout the day. Usually in the evenings, actually.”

  “And the boobs are here to stay, I see,” Jessa quips, pointing her drink toward my chest.

  “Hey now,” I crack up. “Leave my ginormous, painful boobs out of this.”

  “Well, they look amazing, if that’s any consolation.” She chuckles.

  “Enough about me.” I snatch up a piece of her candy. “I hear it’s busy at the guest house this week?”

  She groans. “God yes. The place is booked for back-to-back weddings. I’ve had to work extra hard to keep Callie out from under everyone’s feet.” She pauses, setting her glass on the surface next to her. “But I want to hear about you. I hear it’s busy at Walker’s house this week,” she adds suggestively and wiggles her eyebrows just to be extra corny.

  “Good lord. Do I even want to know what you’ve heard?”

  “Oh my gosh. Mrs. Kingston has been talking about you nonstop. She’s downright giddy about you two shacking up.”

  I just grunt in response.

  “So, tell me, how's it going living with Walker?” She leans forward eagerly. She’s just as bad as Diana, expecting some completely unrealistic outcome.

  “It’s…fine. We both spend most of our time working, so we rarely even see each other. Besides, it’s just temporary until I can find a new place.”

  “But do you share a bed?” Jessa questions, her voice low and gossipy.

  “No. It’s not like that. He sleeps on the couch.”

  “Lame.” She pretends to snore. “I’ve seen the way that man looks at you. He’s low-key fantasizing about cuddling up in bed, hand-feeding you pickles and bacon-wrapped chocolate before merrily rubbing your swollen feet until you fall asleep. Make a move on the man. Put him out of his misery.”

  I’ll admit that I like that image but I roll my eyes at the crazy girl. Jessa will always be the hopeless romantic, no matter how off base she is. “Walker and I are just friends.” There’s a sad note to my voice.

  She must hear it, because her tone goes serious for once. “Penn, you love the guy. Put yourself out there. Take a shot. Talk to him. You never know how it might turn out.”

  Now, I’m feeling all defensive. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit that the reason I’m triggered by my friend’s words is because my internal voice has been saying the same damn thing to me.

  I puff out a breath and then I start blabbering. “Y’know, it's real easy to say that I should just sit him down and have a mature conversation with him about this. But this guy is my best freaking friend and I'm terrified to make myself vulnerable to him. He never agreed to fatherhood. I don’t want to spill my heart out to him and leave him feeling trapped into being with me out of obligation—which is totally something he’d do because he thinks it’s his job to be my personal Superman. Or what if he does the opposite? What if he pulls back from me and completely cuts off our friendship? I wouldn't be able to survive that.”

  Just thinking about it has made me a panicked mess. I don't know how to function in this world with out Walker on my team.

  Jessa opens her mouth to argue—no doubt—but before she can speak, there’s another knock on the back door. A much louder knock.

  “Hi ladies,” Walker’s deep voice vibrates through me.

  My head snaps around. Shit. I hope he didn’t hear our conversation.

  His eyes move slowly between Jessa and me as he peels off his cowboy hat. “I’ve got to get back out there, but I thought you might be ready for an early lunch, Penn. I’ll just leave this with you.”

  He walks over to where I’m sitting, plopping a large, cloth sack into my lap. Before I can speak, he leans down and presses his lips to the top of my head. He lingers in my bubble and our eyes hold until my
chest feels like it will burst unless I glance away.

  Jessa silently watches the whole thing, with I-told-you-so in her eyes. Then Walker’s gone, slipping his hat on and disappearing back out the door, headed for the barn.

  The nosy girl peers into my bag and pulls out a serving of Diana’s famous pasta salad, an entire six-pack of ginger ale, a sleeve of saltines, fruit…and yet another jar of pickles.

  My cheeks flush with heat. I reluctantly meet Jessa’s stare. Her eyes dance with glee. “Just friends, huh?” she asks with a smirk. Grabbing her purse, she stands and begins backing away toward the door. “Your baby daddy seems to be ready for something more, if you ask me.”

  I groan and shoo her out of the kitchen then turn back toward the ironing board. “Well, I didn’t ask you.” I scrunch my nose at her. “So, take your ridiculous thoughts with you. I’ve got work to do.”

  I hear her laughter echoing as she tromps off through the fields.

  36

  Walker

  It’s Sunday mid-afternoon, but instead of working on my normal weekend farm chores, I’m on kid duty. Not that I mind. Every month or so, I get to spend the day with my niece, and it’s always a nice change of pace.

  Callie hones in on the sheet of construction paper on the dining table in front of her with the focus of a bomb squad agent trying to dismantle a nuclear weapon. With slow, careful movements, she trails her crayon across the sheet, forming the letters of her first name.

  When she’s satisfied with her work, she turns and looks at me with the brightest, biggest most hopeful smile. She’s now missing one of her tiny bottom teeth, right in the front, and the new one hasn’t grown in yet. She hates it when I call her Toothless.

  I squint at the gnarled-up doodles on her paper. “Uh…that’s close,” I tell her, trying my best to be sensitive to her fragile, kiddie-sized feelings.

  When Callie came into this world, I fell in love with her in an instant. I thought it was a fluke, a random spot of affection for an adorable, little creature with a personality so big that even my grumpy heart couldn’t ignore it. But now that Cannon’s daughter is here, I’m questioning that theory because Little Diana is practically still a hatchling, yet from the second she squinted those tiny blue eyes at me and gripped onto my finger, I was a goner. Maybe I do like kids, maybe I’ll want a few rugrats running around my house someday.

  I’ve been wondering about Penny’s baby, wondering how in the hell I’ll be able to be neutral about that kid. What if he has my eyes? What if he does that brow furrow thing I always do? What if he’s a grumpy, surly, red-haired, flannel-wearing mini me? How the hell will I be able to keep my distance then?

  I've always loved Penny. Yet I'd long accepted that I'd spend my life loving her from arm's length. Because I was never brave enough to risk our friendship in order to pursue something more. But now, this burning need to claim her is becoming unbearable. Shit. What am I supposed to do?

  Briskly shaking my head, I come back to the moment. I focus on Callie. “Can I have a try?”

  My niece gives a vigorous nod and drops the crayon into my outstretched palm. Dragging my chair closer to hers, I demonstrate again how to construct each letter.

  It’s painstaking work for me to produce my best, legible handwriting. Hell—I’m about to break out into a sweat.

  We get lost in the task until I hear the front door creak open. Immediately, my pulse gets going. I know it must be Penny, getting home from her decorating gig for the day.

  To avoid yet again looking like a thirsty, overeager fool, I resist the urge to turn and check her out. Instead, I grip my crayon and focus on my penmanship.

  “That’s a great job, Uncle Walker!” Callie beams like a proud parent.

  I hand the sheet back to her, with her name carefully drawn out in large, capital letters.

  “Yes, that is remarkable work,” Penny coos from over my back. I feel her dainty hand fall to my shoulder as she hovers behind me. Reaching up to give her fingers a little squeeze is a reflex. I just need to touch her.

  When I look up at her, she smiles a smile that steals my fucking breath. “You two are adorable.”

  I pass the crayon back to Callie. “Now you try again.” Then I turn in my chair to shower my attention on Penny.

  “If anyone’s adorable, it’s you.” My voice comes out as a rumble. Her belly is becoming more pronounced now, pushing outward in the shirts she wears.

  More and more, I catch her stealing my flannel as she grows out of her skimpy, glittery, high-fashion wardrobe. I’m not complaining one bit. I enjoy seeing her in my things. Still, I’d love to take her shopping and buy her all the maternity clothes she needs. I wonder how she’d feel about that.

  I rise to my feet, rubbing her perfectly rounded stomach. Then I lean down and press my lips to her cheek. I can’t help it. There’s nothing better than seeing her blush every time I do.

  God, I do love her.

  I want to tell her. I want to tell her everything. I want to spill my heart out.

  I want to pour her a cupful of my soul and watch her drink it up, watch her get drunk on my secrets, on my plans, on my dreams for me and her and the baby.

  But I don’t want to scare her away.

  I’m still trying to decipher the few words I heard her exchanging with Jessa in the kitchen yesterday. I didn’t catch much of the conversation and I’m not trying to make eavesdropping on Penny a habit but I did hear her say she wouldn’t survive losing a friendship. I have a feeling she was referring to me. Well if that’s the case, her feelings mirror mine because at this point, losing her from my life isn’t even an option.

  A tiny hand pulls on mine. “Uncle Walker, can I have some milk?”

  “Of course, Pumpkin. Hit me with the magic word, though.”

  The child grins. “Pleeeaaasseee!”

  Chortling, I ruffle my niece’s head then follow Penny into the kitchen, enjoying the view as I go. My best friend has always had the perfect body, but now, curves are filling out in the most delicious of places. I never had a clue pregnancy could be so goddamn sexy.

  “Babysitting, huh?” she asks when we’re alone in the kitchen. She leans against the counter with her water bottle in hand. Just behind her, there’s a pile of newspapers with potential apartments she expects me to go check out with her. Yeah, I don’t think so. If she believes I’ll let her move into another shit-hole in the middle of her pregnancy, she’s sorely mistaken. She’s staying here with me. She just doesn’t know it yet.

  “Yep. It’s Jessa’s day off, and my parents are…out.” I scrub the back of my neck to relieve the tension that pops up there automatically.

  “Out? Does that mean what I think it means?” Both her eyebrows rise in unison.

  I clench my jaw and nod.

  My parents went off to visit Eli in jail again. They do this once a month. I don't understand why they keep appeasing the criminal bastard. Penny knows how much the situation riles my nerves.

  Her emerald eyes go soft with empathy. Oh, boy. She’s going to try and reason with me. Isn’t she?

  But she never does what I expect, remember? The girl goes all nostalgic on me.

  “I remember that time you were giving me a ride home on your bike, and he wanted to come, too. I rode on your pegs, like usual, and you made Eli sit on the handle bars. The poor guy. I lost count of how many times he fell off.” She chuckles quietly.

  I huff. “Yeah, well, at least he got a visit from the tooth fairy out of it. He was supposed to split the money with me fifty-fifty. That little shit conned me.”

  Her voice turns warm and gooey-soft. “He looked up to you so much.”

  “Well, then a lot sure has changed since then,” I reply bitterly. It’s hard to believe how close me and Eli used to be. That kid followed me everywhere. As much crap as I gave him, I really didn’t mind having him around. He was my best friend—after Penny of course.

  Now, though?

  I can’t even think about my littl
e brother without getting pissed off. I can’t help but resent the man for messing everything up. He destroyed his life. His family. He left Callie without a dad. And dammit, that little girl needs her father.

  My eyes land on Penny’s belly and my own hypocrisy stomps me in the chest. That kid growing in her belly needs his father, too. Regardless of the contract I signed, forgoing my responsibility to him. I look down on Eli for not being there for his child but I’m no better than he is. How did I not see it before?

  “Maybe,” she says softly. “But Eli’s family. You’re lucky to have him and the rest of your brothers, your entire family. Maybe you should hear him out.” She squeezes my arm. She sets down her water bottle and shifts from foot to foot for a second. “I’ll be back. Drank too much water this afternoon,” she laughs then disappears toward the bathroom.

  I pour Callie’s milk, lost in thought. Penny is so unbelievably forgiving. She’s practically Mother Theresa. I don’t know many people like that. Someone who can care so much, no questions asked. No demands.

  If anyone deserves to hold grudges, it’s her. But instead, she gives everyone second and third chances, even when they keep fucking things up. Just like her mother.

  Eli may have screwed up a lot of shit—for a lot of people—but he didn’t personally attack me. It pales in comparison to how Penn’s mom treats her.

  Maybe I should channel a bit more of Penny. Maybe Eli does deserve another chance from me. He’s not perfect, but hell, neither am I. And maybe he has a justification for all the fucked up shit he did.

  I rejoin my innocent Callie at the table. I set down her cup of milk. There’s a goofy grin on her face as she stares in the direction Penny just went off in.

  “What are you grinning at?” I poke her ribs and I’m rewarded with a shower of childish laughter that’s music to my ears.

  Callie holds up a crayon drawing. A bunch of stick figures. A woman with fiery red hair. A man with a cowboy hat. A baby.