Prince's Secret Baby

by Riley Rollins

  Over the next few days, we work on the building's exterior. It's a cute little space, but the truth is, it needs a lot of work. And I want to the outside to look perfect, to attract as many customers as possible when we open for business.

  I decide to call it the "Rainbow Café," and I have a shop in Springville make a custom neon sign. The afternoon after we take delivery of the sign, Hunter's up on a ladder drilling brackets into the brick facade, and I'm painting the trim around the doors and windows.

  A guy strolls by who I don't recognize. He has to be pushing 40, and his blonde hair is a little wispy and thin up top. The type who used to be a looker, but never got the memo that he's gone over the hill.

  He wolf-whistles at me, and when I look over my shoulder, he makes an obscene gesture with his hands and tongue. I blush red and drop my paintbrush handle-first in the tray of paint at my feet. I'm about to tell the man to take his rudeness and shove it, when Hunter slides down his ladder like a fireman down a pole for a three-alarm fire.

  Hunter is shirtless, and his ripped abs, arms, and shoulders glisten with sweat in the afternoon sun. He beelines straight for our unwelcome visitor. "You have something to fucking say?" says Hunter.

  "Who are you?" asks the guy, backing off the sidewalk into the street. "You a hired hand? This ain't any of your business, so fuck back off to that ladder where you're paid to be."

  I wipe sweat off my forehead with my sleeve, and retreat further into the shade under the store's awning. I've never been shy of dealing with cat-callers. I had to be, because Roger didn't like confrontations with anyone. So it's a strange and novel experience to have a man—a husband, no less—who's actually brave enough to stand up for me.

  Hunter jerks his thumb backwards over his shoulder, pointing at me. "That's my wife," he says. I don't bother to correct him on the technicality that I'm his fake wife. "You got anything else to say to her, you creepy fuck?"

  Hunter keeps stepping closer to the guy, and the guy keeps stumbling backward further into the street. Good thing for him there's not much traffic in Maple Ridge. One passing car swings out wide into the other lane to miss him, and honks its horn.

  "No, man."

  "That's what I fucking thought." Hunter inches closer to the guy.

  "I didn't know."

  "So you just like making perverted gestures to random women on the street?" Even from my vantage point under the awning, I can see Hunter's almost nose-to-nose with this guy.

  "N-no."

  Hunter puts both his palms on the guy's chest and pushes him backwards, further toward the other side of the street. They're almost out of earshot now, but I can vaguely make out Hunter's words. "Get fucking lost." He keeps pushing the guy backwards until he's completely on the other side of Main Street. I see Hunter point down the street, and the guy sheepishly starts walking in the direction he's been ordered to go.

  Hunter returns to our side of the street and joins me under the awning. I can't keep my eyes off his ripped body, and I can't remember the last time I felt so safe or protected. "You really don't need to do that," I say, "I can take care of myself."

  "Can't help it," he says.

  I like the idea of Hunter as a protector.

  "Well, thanks," I say sheepishly. I lean up and give him another peck on the cheek before I can even think about it.

  Damn, I don't know why I keep doing that. The first time was just spur-of-the-moment, but the second time… and now the third?

  When I pull away from his cheek, we make eye contact, and it lingers. My eyes flutter down to his lips, which look soft and full, and not chapped at all even though he's out here sweating in the sun.

  "I've got to finish this," says Hunter, breaking his gaze and looking up toward the brackets that are half-mounted on the storefront. "It's a real bitch, these drill bits aren't lasting long in that old brick."

  He climbs back up the ladder and gets back to work. I pick up my paintbrush out of the paint tray, wipe the handle on the painter's smock I'm wearing over my clothes, and get back to work. But I just can't stop thinking about Hunter. I should be completely focused on myself and my new business right now, and moving on from my divorce. I definitely should not be spending any time thinking about Hunter Thorne… and I definitely shouldn't be fake married to him right now.

  But I am. Oh, yes, I am, and I can't help feeling like things are starting to get complicated.

  Over the next couple days, many of Maple Ridge's residents stop by the café to give us their well-wishes. Eddie and Oscar stop by at least a couple times a day. Eddie keeps bringing us healthy steamed chicken and vegetables with garlic sauce from his restaurant, and Oscar keeps pulling through for Hunter by loaning him tools he needs. Sometimes I dream about getting out of this small town, but it's times like these that make me glad I've stayed. Everybody here looks out for one another and goes out of their way to help. Even if it's because they think Hunter Thorne and I are actually married.

  Hunter may be a bossy prick, but whenever I stand up to him, he seems to get the point. I can tell he's a good man, and maybe, just maybe, we can actually make a decent team together.

  The real test will be when we finally open the doors, and all the stresses of daily business operations start. Hunter still has to fulfill his part of the contract, which means we'll have to work together for a whole month.

  I think we can make it work. What I'm not sure about, is whether I'm going to be able to resist jumping his bones for that long.

  And if I do, I'm not sure about what it will mean.

  10

  Hunter

  A couple days later, we sit inside the unopened café, taking a break from construction. The exterior façade is almost finished, and last night was the first time we flipped on the neon sign I hung up. It's a silly damn sign, "Rainbow Café" surrounded by curly q's and neon coffee cups and coffee beans. Never thought in my damn life that I'd be involved in a project like this, but even if I do think the whole idea is fruity, I can still take pride in a job well done. And that's how I'm going to make it through the next month.

  After that, I'm getting the hell out of here. My bike is all ready to go, and Tess even ordered brand new saddle bags and luggage for me from Amazon Prime. They're lashed to the bike, and I can tell the bike is jonesing to hit the road just as bad as I am. I try not to think about what else leaving will mean: that I'll be leaving Tess in Maple Ridge. Again.

  Hired construction workers and kitchen consultants keep coming in and out of the store, but when we get a brief respite, I grab two Yoohoo chocolate drinks from the fridge, one for me and one for Tess. I lean against one of the tables we just took delivery on, sipping my Yoohoo. Tess sits on a matching chair, gulping her drink and fanning herself with a rolled-up magazine. Summer is just starting to kick in, and we still don't have the HVAC system installed.

  I love how she looks when she's all sweaty. Reminds me of back in the day when I was the one who made her get that way. The outline of her bra shows through her damp white t-shirt, and the base of my cock tingles every time I take a peek at that beautiful cleavage.

  In walks a woman pushing a baby stroller.

  "Meg!" exclaims Tess. She bounds up from her chair and kisses the woman on the cheek. "It's so good to see you and Jack." Meg bends over and peeks at the baby boy in the stroller. "Sorry it's so hot in here. The AC installers are coming tomorrow."

  "That's fine," says Meg. "I just had to stop by to see the happy couple in their new restaurant." She looks at me and winks, and I notice her eyes wander down my body all the way to my package. Meg's a beautiful woman, and not half hard on the eyes, but standing next to Tess, it's like I hardly notice her. I have to consciously tear my eyes off Tess just to give Meg a polite smile and a nod.

  "That's right," I say, playing along. "Marriage is everything I hoped for and more." Better safe than sorry.

  Tess rolls her eyes. "This is my best friend, Hunter. You don't have to pretend around her."

  I scratch my
head. "She knows?"

  Both Tess and Meg laugh. "I know," says Meg.

  "Ah," I say. "Well then, I'll have you know, this marriage is off to an unusual start."

  Meg laughs. "What do you mean?"

  "Been trying to consummate the marriage, but my wife isn't having any of it."

  Meg cocks an eyebrow and looks at Tess. "Really?"

  "Really what?" says Tess.

  "You haven't… you know?"

  Tess's face turns bright red.

  "I thought we talked about this!" says Meg.

  I grin. "You did?"

  Meg gives me a mischievous little smile. "I've been trying to get this girl to loosen up and have a little fun for so long now. All work and no play makes a dull girl."

  I nod my head, laughing, but my cock stiffens inside my pants at just the topic of this conversation. "See? You should've listened to me."

  Tess reddens like a damn beet in the sun. Then the damn baby in the stroller starts cooing, and gives her an excuse to change the topic.

  "Jack's getting so big," says Tess.

  Meg smiles. "Almost ten months now."

  "Can I hold him?"

  "Of course, Aunt Tess."

  I wipe my forehead on my shirt sleeve and take a swig of my cold Yoohoo. I'm sweating bullets in this damn shop. "Can I get you one?" I say to Meg.

  She smiles wistfully and pats her stomach through her shirt. "Thanks, but there's already enough eye candy in the room."

  I grin. I hope that Meg's attitude rubs off on Tess.

  Tess lifts the baby to her shoulder and pats it on the back. She casts a sideways glance at me and rolls her eyes, but I don't miss how she checks me out.

  "That eye candy?" says Tess.

  "Um, yeah," says Meg. She reaches into the stroller and pulls out a baby bottle which she hands to Tess. "It's so obvious that you two want to jump each other's bones. Just do it already."

  I can't help chuckling. "Ready any time she is," I say.

  Meg interrupts me. "But you're still leaving town when this is done."

  "Yeah." I feel a tickle in my throat and I cough.

  "Tess may be an idiot for not jumping your bones, but you're a damn idiot for not making this girl your real wife."

  Now it's my turn to be uncomfortable. "I'm… not looking to get tied down."

  Tess seems to be in her own little world, oohing and aahing at the cooing baby. She seems to be tuning out me and Meg talking. She looks like such a damn mom.

  "Everyone thought you two would end up together," says Meg. "You leave her for a second time, and that might be a mistake you regret for the rest of your life."

  "Look," I say, lowering my voice to one notch above a growl. "I'm putting my plans on hold to help her out with this, and she's got baggage from her divorce. You're damn right that I want that girl's body, but getting together ain't the right move for either one of us."

  Meg purses her lips. "You should think about what I said."

  Before I can respond, Tess turns to me and tries to thrust a baby into my arms.

  "Whoa," I say. I put my hands up in surrender, something I'm not fucking used to doing. "I'm not good with babies."

  "Go on," says Meg. "You have my permission."

  I scoot backwards, pushing the table back about six inches. The metal legs screech against the bare concrete floor. "Really, I'm good."

  Tess laughs at me. "He's just a little baby. What're you scared of, soldier boy?"

  "First," I say, "Navy SEALs are sailors, not soldiers. Second, babies do scare the shit out of me."

  "Seriously?" says Tess. "Take him." She practically shoves the baby into my arms. I seize up as soon as he's in my arms, and I have a horrible fucking vision of tripping and dropping him. Normally I'm confident I can do anything, but this is one thing that truly scares the living shit out of me.

  "That's right," I say, trying to keep the squirming baby from escaping my grip and plopping onto the rock-hard floor. "I'm a sailor, and my main function is to kill everything in sight. So yes, you should keep babies as far away from me as fucking possible."

  "You're doing fine," says Meg. She steps toward me and tucks the blanket around the baby in my arms. "See? He's not crying. He likes you. But watch your mouth."

  "But he's just a tiny baby," I say. "He can't speak English."

  Meg and Tess both scowl at me. "Babies can understand more," says Tess—

  "—than you think," says Meg.

  "Well, shit," I say, and I almost clap a hand over my mouth, but thankfully I stop myself before I drop the baby all over the floor like a sack of rocks. "See, I'd be a horrible parent."

  "I don't think you would," says Tess softly.

  I finally manage to offload the baby back to its mother, and we spend the next ten or fifteen minutes shooting the shit and sweating our balls off in the muggy restaurant. Soon, Meg decides she should get her and her baby out of the construction zone, leaving just me and Tess. Tess hoists herself up and sits on the table next to me, and she puts her hand on my thigh.

  My cock instantly springs to attention.

  "Thank you for being a good sport."

  "Getting pretty decent at acting for this whole fake marriage thing, so why not."

  She laughs. "Do you… do you think you'd ever want a baby?"

  I stiffen up like a puppet with a wire up its spine. "It's not in my plans. Fake marriage, maybe, but a baby is too fucking real."

  "Oh," says Tess," I didn't necessarily mean with me."

  I cock an eyebrow. It may have freaked me the fuck out when she asked about a baby, but for some strange damn reason, I don't like when she backtracks either. This woman just fucks with my mind for some reason. "I see."

  She's about to finish off the last of her Yoohoo when she sees that I'm rolling an empty bottle between my hands. She holds her bottle toward me. "You want to finish mine?"

  "No, I don't want your backwash."

  She giggles but then becomes serious again. "No, a baby wouldn't go together with my professional goals." She seems to be staring off into the distance.

  I can tell she's still thinking, so I don't say anything.

  "I never used to think I'd want one. But now that I'm almost 30, I'm not sure anymore."

  I shift in my seat, and I realize that Tess's hand is still on my leg. I wonder if she's aware of it or if she's just spacing out.

  Just like she's reading my mind, she takes her hand away and grabs her smartphone out of her pocket. What a huge piece of shit. I still have my flip-phone from high school, and if it were up to me, I wouldn't even have that. Me and technology don't get along.

  She flips through some baby pictures on Meg's Facebook, exclaiming how cute her baby is.

  "Anyway," she says, "if I ever got married—you know, real married—I'd want my husband to want kids."

  "Well," I say, "good thing it's a fake marriage, then." I try to keep my cool and not let my voice betray how flustered I am, but I can't lie. Some fucked up part of me keeps thinking about how much of a mom Tess looks like, and for some fucked up reason beyond my comprehension, that's turning me on even more than the idea of a no-strings-attached fuck with her.

  I must be fucked in the head.

  Later that afternoon, I interview a kid to help us at the shop. Tess and I talked it over, and we decided that two people is enough to run the shop. But with me leaving, she'll need someone to hit the ground running when I'm gone.

  His name is Jason, and he responded to a Craigslist ad that Tess posted, whatever the fuck that is. I wait for him in the restaurant, and when a skinny, scrawny looking teenager comes and cups his hands against the window, I know it's gotta be Jason.

  I cross the room and open the door with a jingle. "You're late," I say gruffly.

  "Ah, geez," says the kid, and he looks down at a big square watch on his wrist. "Yeah, I see it's 4:02, and—"

  "Is that a calculator watch?" I ask.

  He breaks into a goofy grin that's really kind of en
dearing, but I maintain a straight face. "You bet it is."

  My eyes narrow. "What kind of hipster scum are you?"

  "Ah, I'm—"

  "Sit at that table," I say, pointing toward the table Tess and I were sitting at earlier. I arranged it so there's a chair on either side like an interrogation chamber.

  Jason does as he's told, and I sit opposite to him. I'm not just going to give any old slob a position where Tess relies on them. I'm going to get someone fucking dependable, someone confident and competent. Frankly, someone like me. And this scrawny-ass kid is the exact damn opposite of me. I'm just going to give him his interview as promised, and then kick his hipster ass on out the door.

  "So," I say, moving my pen down my list of interview questions that Tess typed up for me, "First question I have here, is 'Why were you late?'"

  "Sorry. I drove in from Springville. I had to find the place."

  I cock an eyebrow. "You came from Springville to apply for a job in Maple Ridge?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "What's the matter with you, kid? Why would you come to a backwater town like this to get a damn job?"

  "Because of the rainbow bagel."

  "Say fucking what?"

  "Listen," says Jason, leaning in and folding his arms on the table. "I've been trading stocks since I was 14. I dropped out of college to run my own PC-building business online. I'm a businessman. And I know a good opportunity when I see one."

  "You came all the way from Springville because you wanted to work for a rainbow bagel shop?"

  "That's right," says Jason, and for the first time, I detect a hint of myself in him. "I want in on the ground floor."

  "Well, I say, putting my pen down and leaning back in my chair. "That was unexpected."

  "I know I was two minutes late, but I won't let you down if you give me the job."

  I grumble to myself. Two minutes late is practically a felony in the SEALs, and my tolerance for tardiness is real damn low. But even I have to go a bit easy on the kid. Two minutes is only two minutes, and this sure seems more interesting than the other loser high school kid potheads who responded to the ad.