“First of all,” Zoey’s eyes twinkle, and I have to fight back a laugh. “His name is Dylan, Dylan Smith – hence why your guy calls him Smitty.”
That earns her an eye roll from me. “He’s not my guy. Not by a long shot. Stop deflecting.”
“Nothing more to tell really. The photo shoot was hot. He’ll look good in the proofs, I’m sure. I fucked him before I came home. He told me to call him next time I’m in town, and if he ever makes it this far west, he’ll look me up.”
“Zoey…” I trail off. “Are you ever going to settle down?”
She shoots me a mean glare, “You really want to have that conversation with me?”
“Touché. Forget I said anything.”
“Forgotten. Writing session before I go home? I’ve got some time to kill?”
I check the clock and the baby monitor. Reid will be asleep for at least an hour. “Yeah, let’s do this. You mind giving what I have a read over between tonight and tomorrow?”
“Hell yes! I’m dying to read more, you better send it to me biatch!”
With Reid being sick, I haven’t had much time or energy to write since I got home. Sprinting with Zoey is exactly what I need to get back on track. Even when she heads home after cuddling her favorite nephew for a while, I’m able to work on my story more.
I wish I could say that Rhys doesn’t cross my mind, but that would be a lie.
And when he finally stops calling by the end of the week – I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
Sitting in the doctor’s office Friday afternoon for Reid’s follow up appointment, I watch silently as a Dad cradles his newborn daughter – smiling proudly as they wait to be seen.
Not for the first time since having Reid, my heart aches.
I think about Zoey’s advice and how she’s always pushed for me to tell Rhys about his son. Would he want to be involved or would he push us away? Neither of us planned for this to happen when we hooked up – which is why I didn’t try harder to find him when I found out I was pregnant. It’s why I didn’t reach out when I stumbled across a post on Facebook when his picture went viral. I can only imagine how he would have felt then. Would he have thought I was only coming out of the woodwork because of his new-found fame?
God, what would he have said if I told him a week ago when he tossed me over his shoulder and carried me back to my hotel room?
Would he have confessed his feelings for me still? Would he demand some kind of proof that Reid was his? Or, would he want so much more? Could I handle it if he wanted to share Reid, or worse, if he fought for full custody of him?
It shouldn’t hurt this bad, imagine how different things would be if Rhys was here. My mind wanders a thousand different directions, envisioning a different side of the confident and sexy man I met a year ago. Truth is, I would give a lot to be raising Reid in a family unit. But the uncertainty of it all is more than enough to keep me on the path of least resistance. The one where I stay silent and hope that I’m right and Rhys does move on. Even if I know in my heart, it may very well be the wrong choice to make.
Pulling my phone from the diaper bag with a sigh, I log into my Facebook account. And like a fool, I search Rhys’ name to see what he’s been up to. The first post that pops up is like a direct hit to my heart.
Somehow, I let Smitty talk me into coming out with him and a few of the guys tonight. Most of them brought their girlfriends or wives. Smitty brought Zoey.
Zoey, who’s half drunk, dangles on his arm, whispering in his ear. It’s nearly enough to make me throw up. She’s here, and her best friend refuses to speak to me. If that’s not bad enough – Zoey won’t break girl code and tell me anything. Instead, when she thinks I’m not looking, she looks at me with pity – something I can’t put my finger on.
Since I can’t drink – designated driver and all that, I decide to leave them to it and scope the dance floor. It doesn’t take long for me to attract a few ladies, only one has the confidence to come to me. Her platinum blonde hair is cropped short in some sort of pixie cut that seems to be all the rage. She’s thin and fit with tits that have to be fake. But she’s got moves, and she looks nothing like KJ, making her the perfect distraction.
The bass is thumbing around us as the DJ spins a little Justin Timberlake and blondie bends at the hips, grinding her ass against me. I’m moving to the beat, trying to get caught up in the moment as she spins around and wraps her arms around my neck.
It’s useless. Another place and time, I might enjoy this.
Right now? I’m still so fucking hung up on KJ that I can’t think about anything but how I wish it was her touching me instead.
When the song ends, I offer to buy her a drink, which she gladly takes me up on and follows me to the bar. As she sips from her expensive ass martini, she watches me closely. Sitting the glass down, she smiles and lets out a giggle.
“You’re…Rhys.”
“I am.” Shit. I have a feeling I know what’s next.
“Hot Cop, right? The one, all the girls, are going crazy over on Facebook?”
We have a winner! “I might be,” I smirk.
“Hey, relax. I’m not going to steal your virtue,” she teases, and for the first time all night I genuinely smile.
“Thanks for that.”
“I would love a picture with you though,” she puckers her lower lip, and I try like hell not to laugh at how foolish she looks. “Please?”
I don’t fucking get it. I’m not some damn celebrity. I’m only a guy who loves his job. “Go for it,” I relent.
She pulls her phone from her clutch, leans into me with her drink in the other hand and snaps a picture. I’m not even offended when she finishes her drink and thanks me with a pat on the back like we’re old friends then disappears back into the crowd.
No more than five minutes later, my cell phone buzzes in my pocket.
For some stupid reason, I fumble for it and feel a pang of hope – thinking it might finally be KJ calling me back.
It’s not. Blondie has already uploaded our little photo to Facebook and tagged me.
#WhenHOTCOPBuysYouADrink #HowISpentMyThursdayNight
Great. Time to call it a night. Smitty’s at the opposite end of the bar, and he’s tossing back another shot as I approach. He slams the shot glass down on the counter before signaling for another round. I shake my head at the bartender who reads my mind and nods.
“Alright love birds, I think it’s time to hit the road,” I shout over the music.
“Ah man, lighten the fuck up would ya. Have a beer and have a good time for a little while, won’t you?” Smitty fires back.
“I’m having a great time! Most amazing time ever! And it’s almost closing time, so let’s go!”
Zoey whispers something in his ear, and he smirks before nodding. “Come on, let’s go. I’m getting some pussy tonight.”
My eyes widen, but I’m not really surprised. Smitty’s always been brazen off the clock. I almost felt bad for Zoey, for less than a second, but then she giggles and squirms against my buddy. Christ, could this night get any worse?
Smitty stumbles up from the barstool and staggers in the direction of the exit, holding on to Zoey and damn near dragging her along. They make it to the sidewalk before Zoey groans and yelps before puking all over the concrete.
“Fucking lovely,” I grumble. “Get it all out because if you puke in my car, so help me God!” I warn her.
I get a death stare from Smitty, but I could care less. His ass has never even let me near his car on nights when we go out. Instead, he calls a damn cab – even if he’s sober the whole night. His girl hurls again before standing up straight and laughing. I don’t know what the hell is so funny about puking outside a crowded bar, but whatever.
“I’m good!” she proclaims.
Somehow, we make it to my car, and I manage to get the two of them home without vomit in the back seat. In fact, I had to laugh when I checked the rearview mirror, and they were both
passed out. I made damn sure I got that shit on camera too. Around 6am, I’ll be sure to send that little picture to Smitty’s cell phone. I know he’ll really appreciate that wake-up call.
“Yo!” I yell a little too loudly to wake them up once we’re outside his place. “Get out.”
“You’re a horrible chauffer, for the record,” Smitty grumbles, and I chuckle.
“Have fun tonight, Whiskey Dick.”
“Fuck off, man. Thanks for getting us home.”
“Yeah whatever, need me to walk you both to the door?” I eye Zoey’s swaying form.
“Nah, we’re good. I’ll catch ya Sunday night.”
I nod and watch until they’re both inside Smitty’s place before I pull off.
Ten minutes later, I’m back at my place and scrolling mindlessly through my newsfeed. Reading comments on the picture from tonight and wishing I wasn’t sitting here alone.
Shit. The blonde was hot enough, not exactly my type, but we could have had fun. I think.
Except, she’s not who you want.
It’s KJ I want. Even if she’s a solid reminder of every reason why I’ve steered away from the one thing I long for – a relationship. Shit like this just isn’t worth it.
I buried myself in work. Picked up extra shifts when I could, slept when I couldn’t.
I held out hope that she’d protest the ticket I wrote her and show up for court at the beginning of April, where I could hopefully catch a minute with her and get some answers. Instead, she paid the fine, avoiding me once again.
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Took a little bit of recon but I was able to pull her address from the system and well, like the fool that I am, I’ve decided, it’s time to pay her a visit – put it all to rest. That’s the only explanation I’ve got for why I’m heading west on the I-10 on my first weekend off since the signing where everything went to shit.
“Take Exit 3 ahead and bare left.”
This is it. I’m minutes from my impromptu visit to KJ’s house. I know chances are good that she’s home because I had Smitty, pull a little information from Zoey. No doubt, he’ll be in trouble for it later, but I was desperate and apparently, he’s tired of dealing with my miserable ass at work and elsewhere.
As I turn into her neighborhood, I take note of my surroundings. The place looks safe enough. Quant little houses line the street, families are outside playing. You can hear the kids’ laughter in the air. Part of me wonders why she chose a place like this. I would think a single female would prefer a small condo or apartment. Not the house that I just pulled up in front of.
Don’t judge me. I pulled some records, I know that she owns the house, bought it seven months ago. Nobody else’s name was on it. It’s all hers.
Part of me is damn proud of her. The other part of me hopes like hell she’s not hiding a husband and 2.5 kids here.
I park at the curb, check my hair in the rear-view mirror and get out, stretching my legs after the road trip. I smooth down my shirt and wipe my palms on my khaki shorts as I walk up the driveway and along the path to her door.
The lawn is well manicured, and there are flowers planted along the walkway. The attached brick garage gives contrast to the white vinyl siding and deep blue shutters on the windows. Everything about this house screams homely, even from the outside.
Taking a deep breath, I ring the doorbell and wait.
I hear a dog bark and smile. My smile quickly fades when she opens the door and stares at me in shock. I can feel the panic rising in my chest as I stare back at her.
There’s got to be a mistake. I’m imagining things. It can’t be. No. She wouldn’t do this. We had something together. She would have told me.
I wait for her to open the door, but she doesn’t.
Instead, she holds up one finger and steps away from the door, calling the dog, a German Shepard behind her. From where I’m standing – I can see straight through her house to the back door where she’s at now, letting the dog outside.
With the dog out back, she returns and finally opens the door, inviting me inside.
I feel like I’m frozen, I can’t even will my feet to move forward.
KJ is standing right in front of me, holding a baby in her arms.
Holy fuck.
A baby.
There is a child in her arms. If I had to guess, he’s about four months old. Looking at him, I feel like I’m staring at a baby picture of myself.
That SWAT guy that stays calm and collective? He’s gone. In his place is a man who’s just realized that he’s a father. That he helped bring another life into the world. And missed out on the whole damn thing. I don’t even have to ask. I know in my heart this little guy is mine.
And KJ kept him from me. The look on her face as I cross the threshold into her home, only confirms what I’ve already figured out.
So many emotions swirl through me at once. I’m pissed that she didn’t try to reach out to me. Angry, that we spent two nights together, I apologized for our misunderstanding – asked for something more, and not one time did she think that she needed to mention that we had a child together.
Sadness hits me in the chest and makes me ache.
Why didn’t she try to find me to tell me?
Am I that horrible of a person that she thought I didn’t deserve to know? Christ, how stupid could I have been. She used me, lied to me. And here, I wanted it all with her. All I asked from her was more.
I grit my teeth as I process the fact that I missed out on the birth of my first-born child.
Hurt.
Betrayal.
Anger.
It takes every ounce of restraint I have, not to let that anger drive me to explode. Instead, I take a deep breath and attempt to calm the storm raging inside of me. I clear my throat and try to hide my emotions as I speak, “Something you forgot to tell me KJ?”
“What are you doing here?” she asks as she walks into the living room and paces with the baby on her shoulder.
I take stock of the newborn photos on the mantel and one lone ultrasound picture. “I think there is a more important elephant in the room,” I point at the little guy.
Letting out a huff, I shake my head, “I can’t believe you’d keep him from me. Ya know, you think you know a person, only to find out they’ve been lying to you. Why wouldn’t you tell me? Why not try to reach out? I had every right to know.”
I’ve heard of women saying that having a child is love at first sight, that there is this undeniable connection. Most people say it’s something men acquire over time. I’m calling bullshit because I know without a doubt, I’d take a bullet for this kid.
“It was different back then. I thought you walked away. And what did I really know about you, Rhys?”
“And a few weeks ago? You didn’t think to mention it then?”
“When would have been a good time, Rhys? Before or after you cuffed me? Or while you were fucking me into submission? I told you I couldn’t do this. I meant it. I have him to look after now.”
“You said one thing but behaved totally differently.” At least I think she did. I begin to wonder if I missed all the signs. Maybe there was some kind of hint, like when she hesitated, pushed me away. But like a fool, I came back for more. “And I believe we have a child to look after now.”
“You’re going to fight me for him?” her voice cracks.
“KJ, he’s my son. Tell me he’s not. That tiny little face, it’s like looking at my own newborn photos. He’s what, four or five months old? My math skills aren’t that bad.”
I instantly regret giving her the out. Could I really walk away if she denied what we both knew to be true?
I am a sadistic bitch. I am.
The hurt written all over Rhys’ face is enough to make me ill. Pair that with the fear over what could happen next, it’s taking all I have in me to steady the nerves that are causing my legs to tremble.
His question lingers in the air, and I kno
w I owe him an answer.
The answer.
The truth.
I can’t withhold this information from him anymore. Consequences be damned.
I wish I had some warning that he was going to show up. I don’t know what I would have done, but maybe I could have been better prepared for this moment. Maybe I was a fool to ever think I could keep my baby a secret.
“Look me in the eyes, KJ. Right now. Tell me the truth,” Rhys’ voice is commanding and firm. He’s used that same voice on me before, in the bedroom. It reminds me, he’s a man who knows how to get what he wants.
I swallow hard and meet his gaze, “Reid is ours.” There. I said it. The truth hangs around us like a noose, threatening to strangle us both.
This time Rhys’ voice cracks as Reid’s name slips from his lips. “He’s ours.”
I nod and bite back my own tears as Rhys’ eyes fill with emotion. His chest heaves with each breath as if he’s holding something back.
“That’s my son.” There’s no question. He doesn’t doubt my words. “I’ve got a little boy.”
“We. We have a little boy,” I defend.
Because you hid the truth. You know he would have given everything to be here if you had given him the chance. Deep down, I know that’s the truth. Everything I know about Rhys tells me that he is a stand-up guy.
“God, KJ, I don’t want to fight with you but…”
“It’s Kelsey.” Rhys pauses gives me a confused look. “My name…is Kelsey. KJ is my pen name.”
“I know your real name. I’ve seen your driver’s license and looked up your address.”
“Oh charming, so you’re not above stalking. That’s rich coming from a cop.” I don’t mean to be a bitch, but my snarky side comes out when I’m nervous. Right now? I’m pretty fucking nervous about what could go down from here.
Rhys runs his hands through his hair and scowls. “You’re infuriating. For the record.”
“The feeling is mutual.” Reid begins to fuss in my arms, “I need to make him a bottle,” I offer as an excuse to flee the room.
Hot Cop (Too Hot To Handle Book 1) Page 7
