The Irish Doctor’s Secret Babies: A Secret Baby Romance

by Crowne, K. C.

  “This is yours and Finn’s business; I’m not going to pretend that I’m the expert on the subject. But you remember what happened with Gavin and me, right? I got pregnant and was positive he was too much of a playboy to want to settle down and start a family. And now look at him – he’s the best dad in the world.”

  I remained quiet, and she went on as she turned onto our street.

  “Listen, you’re going to need to figure this out, and so is he. But the least you can do is open yourself to the possibility of letting Finn into your life – into their lives. Single moms can get it the eff done but having a dad around can really help. And you wouldn’t want those two to miss out on having another person around who loves them.”

  She pulled into the driveway of my parents’ home. Through the window I could see Mom and Dad in the living room in the middle of their usual evening routine of reading and tea, the inviting fire crackling in the fireplace.

  “Just think about it,” Gia urged. “And you know I’m here to talk.”

  “Thanks, G. Thank you so much.”

  Gavin’s car pulled up behind us, and Gia unbuckled her belt. “You’ll figure this out. Don’t forget that you’re a total badass, and whatever you set your mind to, you’ll make it happen.” Her eyes flashed as she realized she’d said a curse, but the kids were still paying attention to anything but our chat.

  Gia opened her arms, and we hugged each other tightly. “We’re all here for you, and we’re rooting for you. Take your time and think it over, alright?”

  “I will. Now get back to that amazing family of yours.”

  She gave me a playful salute, opening the door and hopping out of the car. I stepped out too, helping Sam and Sophia out of their car seats. Gia climbed into Gavin’s big, silver Land Rover, both giving me a wave. I waved back with my mittened hand, feeling a bit lonelier as soon as they pulled away and were gone.

  The sugar crash had done its job, and the kids were on the verge of conking out as we made our way through the fresh snow accumulating on the walkway leading to the house. I stepped through the front door and into the living room, and the moment the warmth from the fire hit my skin and my parents’ faces lit up at the sight of us, I paused to remember how lucky I was.

  “Party too much for the little ones?” Dad asked as he laid his novel on the coffee table and got up.

  “Too much for all of us.” There was a dour tone to my words, one that Dad noticed.

  “You alright?”

  I wasn’t, and more than that, I knew the conversation I’d had with Gia would need to be had with them, too. But it would have to wait for another night – no way I’d have the energy for that tonight.

  “Fine.” I hated lying to Dad, but they’d get the truth soon enough. “We’re just wiped from the party.”

  “Why don’t you leave the twins with us?” Mom asked from her easy chair. “We’ll get them ready for bed.”

  “You sure?” I asked, my brows furrowing. “They’ve been a bit to handle this evening.”

  “Positive,” Dad agreed. As if to prove his point, he reached down and scooped Sophia up off the ground. An independent girl like her mom, she always liked to squirm and protest when Mom or Dad lifted her, but at that moment she was too wiped to care.

  “Thank you both so, so much,” I said, pulling off my gloves. “I just need an hour to decompress and I’ll be in to help.”

  “Take your time,” Mom offered. She opened her arms to Sam, and he sleepily toddled over to her. Once he was near, Mom helped him out of his winter gear.

  I took a long moment to soak up the warm, happy scene before heading to the guest house that served as my home. A bath. The idea hit me as soon as I stepped over the threshold. Without waiting another second, I pulled off my winter clothes and hurried to the master bedroom. I had a faucet pouring warm water into the tub, a bath bomb filling the water with bubbles and the air filled with the scent of eucalyptus. After tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper, I stepped into the water and slipped in.

  “Ohhhh maaan,” I groaned, the hot water doing its work right away. There was nothing like that first dip into a hot bath.

  The moment I was settled into the water, images began flashing in my mind’s eye, all of Finn. Like some sick, cosmic joke, the one guy I shouldn’t have been thinking about appeared in my head. Something about him as we’d been arguing, that passion and fire and almost-rage he’d kept barely in check as we’d spoken, had been so arousing. And it reminded me of the night we’d shared, the one that had changed my life forever.

  A tingling began beneath the water, between my legs. I needed to resist it, to keep my animal urges at bay, but the more my thoughts lingered on Finn, the more I wanted to take care of business.

  Fine, I thought. One quick orgasm to put it all out of my head. I mean, being horny’s the last thing I need right now.

  Maybe it was a rationalization, but I didn’t care.

  I closed my eyes and moved my hand over my breasts and across my stomach and between my thighs. The instant my fingers touched my clit, I was off to the races, ready to be lost in my fantasy.

  Despite my evening with Finn being years in the past, I could remember it like it were yesterday. It was easy to conjure up memories of his shredded abs and broad chest flexing and tensing as he moved on top of me. And I could almost feel his thick length inside me as if he were screwing me right there in the tub.

  I put together a quick scene, one that took place in Duncan’s office where we’d argued. I imagined the fight going a bit differently. Instead of us leaving pissed off at each other, I pictured us arguing until we were inches apart, the passion we felt channeled into the fight.

  Then there would be a pause as we stared into one another’s eyes.

  And then we’d kiss.

  The kiss would be fucking amazing, of course. We’d kiss long and deep, shoving our tongues into each other’s mouths, our hands rushing over each other’s bodies before we began the frantic process of getting each other out of our clothes.

  Once naked, he’d gaze down at me with smoldering, hunter’s eyes, his mouth curled into a sly smile. Then he’d clamp his hands down on my hips and spin me around so quickly and effortlessly that I’d gasp. Before I’d even have a chance to realize what was going on, I’d be bent over the desk, my ass in the air toward him. His hand would come down on my rear, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel really, really good. Then he’d lean in and whisper in my ear.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  He’d know the answer – but he’d want me to say it.

  “You,” I’d moan. “You, you, you.”

  My reward would be the sensation of his head against my pussy, that perfect, rock-hard cock ready to push inside me. He’d place his end against my opening, then he’d push, filling me inch by inch.

  Like before, at first I’d worry he was too much, that I wouldn’t be able to take all of him. But I would, my walls gripping him, coaxing out pleasure for us both.

  Back in the real world my fingers worked between my lips, making slow circles around my clit, an orgasm approaching by the second.

  In the fantasy, Finn gave it to me hard and fast, moans pouring from my mouth as he drove into me again and again, my breasts swaying underneath me, my fingers gripping the edge of the desk. Then fantasy Finn came, and real-life me came just as hard. I closed my eyes and touched myself through the orgasm, my body shifting back and forth under the water.

  The orgasm faded, and as soon as it was gone, I felt dirty – and not in a good way.

  Fucking Finn. I wanted to punch him and screw him all at once.

  I had a bad feeling that before this was all over, both might very well happen.

  Chapter 13

  FINN

  My head throbbed like a couple of mallets were taking turns smacking my temples. “Fuckin’ hell.”

  I opened my eyes and saw I was in my bedroom. Between the headache and the disorientation, I knew I’d hit the sauce a
wee bit too hard the night before. I glanced to the side and saw an almost empty bottle of Jameson on the desk by the window. And the sight of her name on the bottle made memories of the night before take shape in my mind.

  I heaved myself out of bed, the sudden movement causing my head to pound even harder. The conversation with Kenna returned, along with the dumbass way I’d acted. I should’ve been stronger. Part of me wanted to hold the way she’d acted against her, to say she’d been selfish and unreasonable. Maybe she had. But I hadn’t been any better.

  And the revelation of last night weighed on my mind like nothing ever had in my life.

  I was a father. Those two impossibly gorgeous children, those twins, were mine. And I was hungover and alone in my big, empty condo instead of waking up with my children and their mother. Nothing in the world appealed to me more than pulling those little rugrats out of bed and sitting them down at the kitchen table for a homecooked meal as I sat across from them listening intently as they babbled incoherently. Watch them grow…

  I went into the kitchen, where the sun poured in, making me wince. A check of my Omega watch on the counter revealed it was a little after nine, which some relief; I hadn’t slept the whole morning away. I poured myself a glass of water and pounded it – step one for getting rid of a nasty hangover. Step two was hitting the gym.

  That in mind, I returned to the bedroom and grabbed a pair of black shorts and a sleeveless gray shirt, pulling them both on along with some ankle socks and my Nike gym shoes. I’d be paying for my overindulgence at the gym, but I’d had enough hangovers to know that putting up some weights was the fastest way to sweating out the poison I’d willingly ingested.

  As I put my bag together in the living room, my phone rang from across the apartment. Who the hell is calling me? My heart leaped at bit at the idea of it being Kenna. Maybe it’d be her and the twins, eager to talk to me and, most importantly, be patient with me while I stumbled my way toward doing the right thing.

  I grabbed my phone and checked the screen. Not Kenna, of course, but someone else I was always happy to talk to – my Aunt Roxie.

  Roxie was a hell of a woman, to put it mildly. She was my aunt on my ma’s side, and after Ma’s sudden passing when I was barely a teenager, she’d stepped in to fill in the massive gap my mother had left. And with Da choosing to deal with the loss by throwing himself into his work, her presence had been sorely appreciated.

  Aunt Roxie was a wild tear of energy, living on a gorgeous stretch of land about sixty miles outside of Dublin. Her home was a wee cabin among the bright green, rolling hills of the rural country. Even before Ma’s passing, my brother Patrick and I had spent more than a few summers out there, whittling away the afternoons playing with the sheep and pigs that lived on the land.

  Da had always been a bright man and a hard worker, and his heart belonged to Dublin. Roxie, on the other hand, was a woman suited for the rural life, and had taken it upon herself to make sure my brother and I had a strong connection to not just the city, but the country we’d been born in.

  On top of it all, Roxie was smart as they came, a woman who was no-bullshit and didn’t have the slightest compunctions against telling you what was on her mind. Traits I sorely needed at that moment, as the situation with Kenna rolled through my mind.

  The call was for Facetime, so I set down my phone and grabbed my iPad. With a swipe of the screen Aunt Roxie appeared.

  “And there’s me handsome nephew!” she said, her brogue-heavy voice bright and full of energy. “For a second there I was worried you might not pick up!”

  Roxie barely looked her sixty years, her silver hair pulled back from her trim, sun-kissed face, her eyes green as the grass visible through the kitchen window behind her. She was dressed in a thick, comfy Donegal sweater, a red mug of her usual tea steaming on the hand-carved farmer’s table where her iPad rested.

  “You kiddin’, Aunt Roxie? As if I’d ever turn down a call from my favorite aunt.”

  She let out a raucous bark of a laugh. “Always the charmer. You know, that silver tongue of yours is goin’ ta get ya inta trouble one of these days.”

  “It, ah, already has.”

  She knitted her silver brows. “What’re ya talkin’ about, lad?”

  I scratched my face as I wandered into the kitchen to start some coffee – I was going to need it. “It’s quite a thing, Roxie.”

  She laughed again. “Well, that’s what I’m here for, Finny.” She was the only woman in creation I let get away with calling me Finny. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I put a kettle on the burner and flicked it on, the flames underneath dancing to life. “Well, it turns out I’m a da.”

  She said nothing, as if wanting to make sure she’d heard me right. “You’re a what?”

  “I’m a da, Roxie. I just learned last night at a party.”

  “What the hell kind of parties are those Americans havin’, boy?”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. It was a tense laughter, but a laugh, nonetheless. “You remember when I took that trip to Denver for a medical convention a few years ago?”

  “The first time you went there – I remember.”

  “Well, I might’ve, ah, met someone while I was here.”

  “Uh-oh,” she said with a sly smile. “Finny, I’ve known you for long enough to pick out when you start talking in euphemisms. Let’s hear it.”

  Nothing else to do but get into it. I told her the story of Kenna and me, from our one intense encounter all the way to last night. Aside from omitting the tawdrier details, I gave it to her straight. Aunt Roxie had always been an expert bullshit-detector, and I’d learned at a young age that trying to get anything past her was a fool’s errand.

  “That’s a hell of a thing, me lad.”

  Before she could go on, a voice called from the other room. “Alright, I’m getting on!”

  “Wait, Roxie,” I said. “Don’t tell me that’s—”

  Patrick, my brother, popped into frame. “Hey there, brother!” he yelled. “I’d ask how you are, but from what I heard, it sounds like your damn life got turned upside down last night!” Patrick followed this up with a smartass grin – his little trademark.

  Speaking of twins, Patrick and I looked so much alike that people had been asking if we were twins since the we were in diapers. He had the same wide jaw and dark auburn hair as me, not to mention the same mischievous grin and matching twinkle in his eye. But unlike my green eyes, his were bluer, with little flecks of green and gold here and there. And while I liked to be clean-shaven, he liked to wear a close-cropped beard, the color a deep bronze.

  “Patrick!” I exclaimed. “What the hell are you doing?”

  I was pleased as hell to see him. He grabbed a chair from the other side of the table and sat down next to Roxie, who quickly rose to prepare him a mug of tea.

  “Well, not fathering any children, I can tell you that much.”

  I groaned. No one busted my balls like my baby brother.

  “Your brother’s in from, ah, Tokyo?” Roxie asked as she poured some hot water into one of her big, ceramic mugs.

  “Osaka,” Patrick answered. “And Finn, you gotta see these pictures. Maybe I’ll send ‘em over when your life’s calmed down a bit.”

  “No chance of that happening any time soon.”

  While I’d followed the family tradition of becoming a doctor, Patrick had taken a more unconventional path in life. He’d left Ireland after college, getting a job with some travel magazine and spending his twenties taking pictures and traveling the world. When he’d made a name for himself as one of the best in the business, he went freelance, selling his pictures to the highest bidder. And damned if the guy wasn’t the most talented photographer I’d ever known.

  Hell, sometimes I was a little envious of my brother. The man had seen the world, was paid for his art, and lived the life he pleased. But while photography was in his blood, medicine had been in mine. My forays into learning the electric guita
r when I was a teen had made it abundantly clear my talent didn’t lie in art, but instead in the family trade.

  But we both made a good living at what we were damn skilled at.

  “True,” he said. “Well, baby pictures are on the house.”

  “I appreciate the offer, brother, but it remains to be seen if she’ll even let me within ten miles of the tots.”

  “Of course, she will!” he said. “You’re the father – why wouldn’t she?”

  “Because he hasn’t exactly proven himself ta be a reliable man,” Roxie chimed in, sitting down and placing a steaming mug in front of Patrick.

  “That’s what I was afraid you’d say.”

  “I’m gonna give it ta you straight,” she said sternly.

  “You always do, Roxie,” I said with a chuckle. “And that’s why I love you.”

  “One of many reasons,” she said, raising a finger and smiling.

  “True, true. But let’s hear it.”

  “No woman likes ta feel used,” she stated.

  I frowned. “I left her a note and everything!”

  She laughed. “Finny, a note’s about one step above not saying anything at all.”

  “Even for one night? I thought we had an arrangement, you know? Nothing serious.”

  She laughed even harder, practically choking on her tea. “Finny, yeh and Patrick are some of the brightest boys I’ve ever known. And I’m not only saying that because you’re kin.”

  My gut tensed. Roxie only puffed us up like that before getting ready to drop some serious truth bombs. “But…”

  “But Lord in Heaven, you can both be some of the biggest dumbarses in all of creation! Especially when it comes to women!”

  Patrick winced, his face giving the impression he’d had a few incidents with women he’d come to Roxie for advice, and she’d reacted similarly.

  “What’d I do?” I asked.

  “It’s what you didn’t do,” she chided. “When you left that note, you sent a message – and it wasn’t only the one you’d written down. By leaving like that, you let this Kenna woman know that’s what she could expect from you; unreliable nonsense that she’s probably gotten from enough men in her life already.”