“Thanks,” she said, sounding a little breathless. His own breath hitched in alarm. “Will you call my mom?”
He had to get her there safely and quickly. “Yes. Okay, names, names. What about Alfred? Great anthropologist.” They already knew they were having a boy.
“I was thinking something more like Samuel.”
“After who?”
“I just like it.”
“What about Tobias? Very famous anthropologist. Or Clifford, another wonderful anthropologist.”
“Samuel,” she gritted out.
He glanced over at her. Her knuckles were white, gripping her purse as she let out a long breath. “Are you having a contraction right now?”
She didn’t answer. He floored it, breaking the speed limit. They were still about five minutes away. Why didn’t Carrie tell him earlier?
“Stay with me, Carrie. Don’t push or anything. You with me?”
“Where would I go?” she asked in a strained voice.
Oh, God. Hang on, hang on.
He worked on distracting her. Plus they really needed a name. “How about Franz? Or Louis? All respectable anthropologists. I could tell you about each of them to help us narrow it down. Franz Boas was—”
“Samuel,” she said with a note of finality.
“Samuel,” he echoed.
“Samuel Mark Harrison.”
“Mark after your dad. That’s nice.” He considered for a moment. “It sounds good.”
“It does.”
“Why did it take us so long to agree on a name?” he asked.
“I had it picked out from the begin—” She moaned long and low and his heart rate skyrocketed.
“Hang on! Just hang on. We’re almost there.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was not prepared to deliver this baby in the car all by himself just minutes from their destination. His Zen deserted him and he drove like a maniac the rest of the way, roaring into the parking lot and pulling right up to the emergency room door. He hustled her inside.
“Honey, this isn’t where they said to go,” she said.
He ran and got a wheelchair and pushed her to reception. When he parked her there, Carrie gestured him closer. He leaned down and she grabbed him by the hair, pulling him down to speak directly in his ear. “You have one minute to get your fucking Zen back or so help me I will kick your ass.”
His jaw dropped, so shocked to hear sweet Carrie threaten violence that he actually snapped out of his panic and refocused on her. She was handling everything with calm and composure, bringing their son into the world in a beautifully Zen way. It was everything he wanted for Samuel. “You are my world, Carrie.”
She smiled sweetly up at him and released his hair. “You too. Now go park the car properly and get your bad-boy self back here.”
He understood immediately what she needed from him. He parked, did a brief pull-your-shit-together three minutes of meditation, and returned to her side as her protector, in charge, advocating for what she needed. They’d previously discussed how she wanted things to go.
She did beautifully. Samuel Harrison was born two hours later.
He held his son for the first time, shocked to find tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t even remember the last time he cried.
After the doctor and nurses were satisfied mother and baby were stable, Carrie nursed the baby and then rested with the baby sound asleep in her arms.
Zach sat on the edge of the bed. “I love you, Samuel.” He stroked the baby’s cheek and then stroked Carrie’s hair back, gazing into her eyes. “I love you, Carrie.”
“I love you too. Thanks for pulling it together.”
He smiled, his eyes welling up again. “Thank you for the gift of our son.”
She beamed, glowing with good health and maternal love. He could barely breathe for a moment just looking at her. Beautiful inside and out.
He gazed at his son, completely enthralled, and then back to her. “How soon until we can have another one?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Gimme a sec to put the baby down so I can throw something at you.”
He chuckled, leaned down and kissed her. “I used to think you were a good girl. Now you own your badass self.”
“Damn straight.”
“I’m in awe of what you did here today, giving birth to our son.”
“Thank you.” She stroked the baby’s barely there wisp of light brown hair. “I’m in awe of him.” She met his eyes. “We made him. This little person.”
“Made from our love.” He stroked Samuel’s hand, the soft brand-new skin. His understanding of deep family connection solidified in that moment. He’d searched desperately for family as a kid and been blessed with an abundance of it. First with the Campbells and his honorary brothers and now with Carrie and Samuel. Maybe that was why he appreciated it so much. He had it all. He was one bad boy who’d done it right.
And then he refocused on the moment, gazing at his beloved wife and son, which was the Zen thing to do. A sense of calm and utter peace washed through him.
Until Samuel woke with an angry red-faced cry. Then Zach raced for the doctor.
Not finding anyone after several frustrating minutes, he stopped in the doorway to inform Carrie, who was cooing softly to a now quiet Samuel.
His mate called him back where he belonged in her sweet way. “So help me, Zach—”
“I’m here.” He rushed back to her side, where she was holding Samuel chest to chest and rubbing his back. He leaned down, kissed the baby’s temple and then kissed Carrie gently. “I’m new to babies. Tell me what to do.”
Now Carrie, a pediatric nurse practitioner, was the experienced one in the relationship. He had every confidence she’d initiate him into parenthood with the same care he’d taken initiating her into the world of pleasure.
And she did, patiently explaining how to hold the baby, how to burp him, and so much more. He couldn’t have asked for a better partner.
Soon she was praising him for being such a good dad. And he fell in love with her all over again for being such a good mom.
She made him a family man.
And he loved it.
~ ~ ~
Get your next FREE book when you sign up for my newsletter.
Get started here: http://www.kyliegilmore.com/freebie/
Dear Readers,
Did Josh and Hailey turn the corner in their frenemy war? After all, he helped her out with that Bride Special interview. Though there is still the matter of five hundred large standing between them. LOL Ethan Case might’ve been distracted with all of Hailey’s unusual flirting, but now his eyes are open to the challenge of a woman who firmly believes a vibrator is better than a man. Would you like an exclusive sneak peek at my next release? Just click to sign up for my newsletter and you’ll receive sneak peeks, excerpts, and subscriber-only giveaways. Next up is Ethan and Ally’s story, Mess With Me, book 6 in the Happy Endings Book Club series. Join the club and get your happy ending!
Mess With Me (Happy Endings Book Club #6)
Ally Bloom attends her college reunion on a mission—a second chance with her first love. Turns out he’s single and…not interested. Their love is doomed! But when Ethan Case, the sexy cop friend of a friend, finds her crying in her spiked punch, he invites her for coffee with his date. Knowing he’s taken and she doesn’t need to impress him, Ally blurts the entire sucky men saga that is her love life.
But wait! There he is at her Happy Endings Book Club meeting.
And pulling her over for speeding.
And in her classroom to talk to the kids about safety.
Is the man just messing with her or is this the beginning of something real?
Ally Bloom stepped into her college reunion looking for her lost love and prepared for rapture.
Where the heck is he? She scanned the huge ballroom of the hotel for her target, coming up empty. Lots of twenty-somethings pushing thirty, but doing their best to hang onto twenty, mingled in cocktail dresses
and suits, chatting about the “old” days four years ago back at UConn (University of Connecticut).
Show yourself, Man of My Dreams. She and Dean had been texting back and forth over the past month and, after he'd said he couldn't wait to see her at the reunion, his texts had become increasingly flirty, calling her beautiful and gorgeous. Bring your dancing shoes, gorgeous. It felt like a lead in to a fresh start.
She casually skirted the edges of the ballroom floor hoping to sense the presence of her tall, dark, and handsome man for a rapturous rekindling of love. The attraction would pull them together as inevitably as two moths to a flame but with less incendiary results.
Not finding him, she wandered over to the bar, ordered the special, a fruity punch spiked with vodka, and took a sip. Should she work the room, wait for the dinner buffet and hopefully spot him at a table, or maybe ask the DJ to play her and Dean's song? But what if Dean didn't remember their song? They'd only danced to it once at his frat's formal senior year.
She didn't want to text him. She wanted the wow factor of a face-to-face meeting after the time she'd put in prepping for this event—hair, makeup, killer strapless red dress with matching pumps. Not to mention she'd gotten waxed, legs only because she could not take anything more intimately painful. Been there, smacked the esthetician. But these were the sacrifices she made to offer herself at her personal height of feminine beauty and appeal. Their love would do the rest.
She hoped.
Where was he?
She watched the doorway. People were still arriving. Maybe he'd step through the archway of navy blue, white, and gray balloons, their eyes would meet across the room and they'd communicate in that single loving gaze that there was nothing more they ever needed than each other.
She sighed and took a healthy swallow of spiked punch. It had been so long since she'd been interested in any man. Some part of her wondered if it was because she was meant to be with Dean. And when her class organized a reunion so soon—normally it was five or ten years for classes to get back together—it felt like another sign from the universe. Most alumni just tailgated at the Homecoming football game. Maybe they all held a bit of nostalgia for that special time in their lives. Maybe it was a networking event. In any case, Fate had plans for them and it would be foolish not to be open to the possibility of a reconnection. Dean was her first love; they'd met sophomore year in a computer science 101 course that they were both completely lost in. They dated until a year after graduation when Dean declared it would be best if they dated other people just to “see what was out there.” He'd offered to keep seeing her too, but she'd known it was time to move on. Her red-haze of fury at the idea of being one of many women for him had made that pretty clear.
Four months later in a total rebound situation, she'd briefly fallen for Mark, gotten engaged, and fled her own wedding, leaving poor Mark at the altar. At the time, she'd realized she was still in love with Dean. She'd called Dean immediately after—still in her wedding gown for crying out loud—only to discover he had a girlfriend.
She blew out a breath that made her blond bangs lift off her forehead. The anticipation was killing her.
A tall man with short dirty blond hair across the room caught her eye. He stood, arms crossed in a white button-down shirt and black pants (no suit jacket or tie), taking in the room with a hard expression. Oh, hey, was that Ethan Case? He was one of the guys that grew up with the Campbell brothers. She'd seen him a bunch of times at Garner's bar hanging with the guys, but never really talked to him one-on-one. She lifted a hand in a small wave that he missed because he turned and said something to the woman at his side, a tall brunette with a short cap of hair in a black dress. Oh, it was his girlfriend Cali. You could tell how close they were by the way they spoke in such a close intimate manner. Though neither of them smiled or touched each other. Well, not everyone was as affectionate as she and Dean were.
“Ally?” a familiar masculine voice asked.
She turned and gasped at the sudden appearance of Dean, which somehow made her choke on her own spit. She coughed like crazy and the love of her life helpfully pounded her on the back.
“You okay?” he asked with a laugh. “Didn't mean to sneak up on you like that.”
“I'm fine,” she gasped out, her eyes watering. “Hi.” She coughed some more.
He smiled his dimpled smile. “Breathe.”
She did. “Yeah.” She sipped her punch trying to regain the composure needed for their rapturous reunion.
Dean pulled her in for a quick hug. “So good to see you again. How you been?”
“Great!” She studied his handsome features, a little startled by his new look. They hadn't texted current pics of each other. The man she remembered was a lacrosse jock who loved his frat with shaggy dark brown hair and a scruffy jaw. Now his hair was short and neat, his jaw clean-shaven except for a small patch of hair on his chin. What was that called? A soul patch? Silver hoop earring was also new.
He smiled, his chocolate brown eyes warm on hers. “Feels like old times being back for Homecoming weekend, seeing you. Did you catch the game?”
She'd missed the football game due to her massive preparations for this moment. “Nope. Just made it here. So how's Wall Street treating you?”
He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Actually, being a stockbroker wasn't for me. I'm selling solar panels now.”
She tensed. When she'd asked him by text earlier about the world of stocks, he'd said, living the dream! Clearly, he'd forgotten he'd said that. The blatant lie rankled. Regroup. A fresh start meant things would be different, but that didn't mean he wasn't the same affectionate loving man underneath.
She smiled, leaning closer and looking up at him under her lashes. “I'm so happy for you.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a blatant once-over. “Damn, you're smoking in that dress.” His hands went to her waist, spiking her body temperature. His voice was husky by her ear. “I got a room upstairs. Why don't we head up?”
She jerked away. “Wh-what?”
He moved closer and admired her cleavage. “For old time's sake.”
She frowned, her heart sinking somewhere in the vicinity of her perfectly smooth ankles. “You said to bring my dancing shoes. I thought—” she nearly choked on her anger, on the complete mismatch of their expectations “—I thought you were remembering how good we were together. I thought this was a fresh start.”
“Ally.” His gentle tone cut deep. “You know I love you but I don't love you. Understand? I'm not into you in that way. I just thought we could have a little fun.”
The breath knocked right out of her. Not that way? She sucked in air, her heart thundering in her ears, her hands icy. She struggled to comprehend. They were together for four years, madly in love. “How could it not be that way?”
He gave her a sympathetic look that twisted the knife in her gut. “Things changed.” He waved at someone over her shoulder. “Olivia!” He turned back to her with a warm smile. “Great to see you, Ally. Take care.”
Then he left, heading over to Olivia, a gorgeous woman in a tight pale lavender dress with black fuck-me stilettos.
She stood there for a full minute in total shock, shaky and cold, so very cold. How many women had he texted to reconnect with at this event? Her gut churned.
His laugh reached her, where he was holding Olivia's hand, walking out with her. Probably to go to his room for a “little fun.”
She couldn't bear it. She did an about face, walked out of the ballroom, down the hallway, and straight to the ladies' room.
Unfortunately, there was a line out the door. Dammit, could this night get any worse?
She headed across the hall to the empty men's room and hid inside a stall. Why had she built this up in her mind? This wasn't Fate. This was total BS. Her fury both at herself for her ridiculously high hopes and him for being such a guy quickly morphed to tears. She gave in to a good cry, still holding her spiked punch, and carefully not touching t
he toilet.
Someone came in. Shit. She quieted, tears still rolling down her cheeks. Hopefully they wouldn't notice her. Of course, if they looked under the stall they might see her cute red pumps. She held her breath as the guy did his business and then washed hands. That was nice. She appreciated a guy who washed hands, they didn't all do that. Her ex-fiancé hadn't. Dean did. A small sob escaped.
Shiny black shoes approached her stall. He knocked.
She froze, not even breathing.
“Do you need some assistance, ma'am?” he asked in a voice that sounded vaguely familiar and cop-like.
Her voice came out small. “No, I'm okay.”
“Are you aware you're in the men's room?”
She laughed and then choked on a sob. “Yes. The ladies' room had a line.” She dashed at her eyes but the tears wouldn't stop coming. So much build up for this reunion of lost love and all she got was a good cry in the men's room with a witness to her humiliation.
“Are you crying, ma'am? Has someone hurt you? I'm a police officer. I can help.”
She knew he sounded cop-like. She peeked through the crack next to the door. Ethan Case, looking tough and capable and concerned.
She opened the door and stepped out. “Hi, Ethan.”
“Ally!” He took in her no doubt ruined makeup, her tear-stained face (she was not a pretty crier), and the drink she still held in her hand. “What happened?”
She was way beyond social niceties at this distress level and told him exactly what was wrong. “The usual, complete and utter annihilation of the heart.” She tossed back her punch, crumpled the plastic cup and tossed it in the garbage.
Ethan held the men's room door open for her, still looking concerned. She stepped out to the hallway and then leaned against the wall. He stood in front of her, his hard blue eyes scanning her features. Probably looking for signs of a physical altercation.
She waved him on. “I just need some time to pull it together. You go ahead back to your date.”
“Are you going to cry some more?” he asked gruffly.
“Probably.”
“You, uh, want to talk about it?”
Bad Boy Done Wrong Page 19
