by Megan Green
I sure as shit didn’t think he meant it literally.
Liv is pregnant.
With my kid.
How in the fuck did this happen?
Flashbacks of our night together spring to mind, and I have to smile at my stupid question. Okay, maybe I know how it happened. But still, how the fuck did this happen? I wore a rubber. And I know for damn sure that it didn’t break because I distinctly remember getting up and disposing of the damn thing after I made her come for the third time.
But then you woke up in the middle of the night to take a piss. And, when your happy ass got itself back to bed, you couldn’t resist running your tongue along that luscious fucking neck. One thing led to another and—
Fuck.
Did I use a condom that time? I can’t be sure.
I was half-asleep and half-crazed with want for Liv when I stumbled out of the bathroom to find her bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. When she turned and found my lips with her own after my little midnight snack, things went from zero to sixty in less than ten seconds flat.
I’d never not used a condom before. But then again, I’d never been half as affected by a woman as I was with Liv.
And, now, she is carrying my baby.
There is no doubt in my mind that, when she said it was mine, she was being one hundred percent truthful. Besides, something tells me Liv isn’t exactly the type to sleep around. She let me in easily enough that night, but I could tell I was the exception to the rule. Her pussy was so goddamn tight, squeezing my cock like the fucking vise that it was, that there was no way she’d been with many men.
I have no idea why she chose me that night. But, until today, I’ve been damn glad she did.
Does that change now, knowing what I know?
I think back to the happy smile that was plastered on her face as she climbed out of the car at her house. She seemed so content, so fucking peaceful that I almost hated to stand and risk startling that expression off her face.
Almost.
And, as it turned out, I didn’t just wipe the happiness off her face. I obliterated her entire world.
Yeah, well, welcome to the club, sweetheart.
How could she just not tell me? How could she think I’d be okay with not knowing I had a kid out there, walking the streets, not having any clue who in the fuck I was? How could she possibly have misread me so badly?
Probably because the only time you really spent with her was buried between her legs.
I cringe at the thought, realizing the truth in that statement. I haven’t been able to get my mind off Liv in the months since our night together, but honestly, we don’t know anything about each other. The only judge of character she has is based on one night where I fucked her six ways from Sunday and then disappeared.
Like I always do.
One simple Google search of my name would only prove to her that I was the womanizing asshole the tabloids made me out to be.
Fuck, even I couldn’t dispute that.
I am a fucking whore with a capital dick.
I’ve just never had a reason to care before.
But, now…
I’m not sure what it is about Liv, but if the past few months are any indication, there is something different about her. Something I just can’t shake. And, now that I know she’s carrying my child, there’s absolutely no way I can just walk away.
I’m not saying I’ll be able to change overnight. And, fuck, we might get to know each other and realize we hate each other’s guts. Wouldn’t be the first time a woman has seen past the major league star and not liked what she saw.
But, even if that turns out to be the case, I’m still not walking away from my baby.
I’m not going to be that dad, the one who shows up once or twice a year, if the kid is lucky. I’m not going to ghost on my kid on his birthday and leave him wondering why whatever I had to do was so much more important than playing ball with him. I won’t leave her standing alone at the daddy-daughter dance as each of her friends spins around in a pretty dress, the apple of her father’s eye.
I won’t be my dad, is what I’m saying.
I think back to all those years of wasted time, watching and waiting for his truck to pull up outside the front window. I think back to the look on my sister’s face when she realized Dad had stood her up yet again, forced to spend the evening with her older brother instead of her father, like she should have been.
I will never be the reason my kid cries himself to sleep at night.
And I’m sure as shit not going to be the kind of dad who sends a check once a month and thinks his fatherly duties are done. I’ve seen way too many of those types throughout my years in the MLB, talking about their kid and baby mama like they’re the biggest nuisances on the planet.
I’ve never wanted kids.
But, now that I know I’m going to have one, you can be damn sure I’m going to do right by it.
I walk out of my lake house, my steps resolute as I head back out to the truck Tag purchased during his time up here. Lucky for my ass, he decided to leave it behind.
I know I told Liv I’d be back at five. But I can’t wait a minute longer.
I don’t need any more time to think. My mind is made up.
I’m going to be a fucking father to my child.
And, if I can manage to convince Liv to fall in love with me along the way, even better.
“You brought Kentucky Fried Chicken?” Liv asks as she steps out onto the front porch, her eyes going immediately to the familiar red-and-white bucket in my hand.
I hold up the white sack dangling from my wrist. “And mashed potatoes and gravy. And don’t forget the best part—biscuits.”
She gives me a wary look. “I’d expect someone with your…assets…to have slightly more expensive taste.”
A wide grin spreads across my face. “Have you been checking out my ass, Tink?”
Her mouth falls open, a look of bewilderment crossing her face as she stumbles over a response. “I-I…”
Interesting, I think to myself.
I expected her to roll her eyes or tell me I was being an arrogant prick—which wouldn’t be untrue—but instead, her face reddens, as if she’d just been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
Caught with her hand stuck in the proverbial cookie jar.
I’ve gotta say, I like seeing the flustered side of Liv.
“I’ll have you know, KFC is just about the best chicken you can find outside of my mama’s kitchen. There will never be enough money in the world to get me to quit eating it.”
She perks up at the mention of my mother. “Your mom is a cook?”
I shoot her a pointed look. “Nuh-uh, Tink. No changing the subject. We’ve got plenty to talk about without bringing my mama into the mix.”
She deflates a little, turning to open the screen door and holding it open for me. “Well, come in. No use in delaying the inevitable.”
She acts as if I were her executioner, my heavy ax just seconds away from swinging. Hopefully, by the end of the evening, I can convince her otherwise.
“How about we eat first?” I say with a grin, heading toward the small kitchen table just off the living room. I set the food down and turn toward the cupboards. “Plates?”
She points to one of the cabinets, and I turn to swing it open. After pulling out the plates and taking a good guess that the silverware is in the drawer below them, I head back over to the table with all the crap we’ll need for our meal.
Liv sits down as I set a plate in front of her.
“Dig in. I got plenty of everything, so feel free to eat as much as you like. KFC is the fucking bomb when you first get it, but it doesn’t exactly make for the best leftovers. And there are starving kids in China and all that, so we can’t throw shit away. Eat, woman.”
I know I’m pushing my luck, and if the narrowed expression she gives me is any indication, she’s about two seconds away from biting my head off for calling her woman. So, befo
re she can, I give her a playful grin and sit down at the table beside her.
“Why did the chicken cross the road?”
My question catches her off guard, her irritation with me disappearing before my eyes as she scrunches her face up in confusion.
“What?”
I repeat the question, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”
She quirks an eyebrow at me. “Aren’t we a little old for this game?”
“Just answer the question, Tink.”
She purses her lips, as if pondering whether or not she should bitch me out for calling her Tink again. That’s twice now in as many minutes, and though she told me not to call her that the last time I saw her, I can tell she secretly likes it. Her eyes flash with a hidden smile each time I say the nickname aloud.
“Fine, I’ll bite. Why did the chicken cross the road?”
“To avoid lame and outdated jokes.”
She tries to fight back the smile that threatens to pull across her lips, but I see it anyway. And, when I do, it makes me want to puff up my chest and strut around like a fucking rooster.
“Wow. That was really freaking bad,” she says, still trying to hide her grin.
“What can I say? I’m a punny guy.”
She rolls her eyes at that but finally lets her smile break free.
Fuck. Yes.
I pull a breast from the bucket before offering it to her. She graciously takes it, pulling all the skin off before tearing into the chicken with her fork.
“Ah, man, you’re ruining it. I got extra crispy. The skin is the best part.”
Liv gives me a sideways look. “I’d rather not die of a heart attack at thirty, thanks.”
I slap a hand against my stomach. “I’ve been eating chicken skin for twenty-eight years, and I ain’t dead yet.”
She grins. “Yet being the operative word.”
I smile back at her before digging into my food. She follows my lead, and we fall into a sort of enjoyable silence as we eat. By the time I’m polishing off the last of the potatoes, however, I can tell the mood has shifted considerably. It might be the pointed stare she’s currently giving me that tips me off.
I lick the last bit of gravy from my fork before tossing it on the plate before me. “Okay, Tink, lay it on me. What’s on your mind?”
She cuts right to the chase. “Why are you here, Brandon?”
“I already told you. Tag told me to get my ass back here, and here I am.”
She shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I meant. Why are you sitting here, at my kitchen table, eating shitty food and acting like you didn’t just find out I was pregnant with your kid?”
My mouth drops open, my brows furrowing in confusion at her genuinely bewildered tone. “Where else would I be after finding out something like that?”
Liv tosses her hands up in the air, looking around the room. “I don’t know. Halfway back to Seattle by now, I’d expect. But sure as hell not here.”
The line in my forehead deepens. “I told you I’d be back, so we could talk. Did you really think I’d just skip town without another word?”
“Honestly”—her voice is barely more than a whisper—“yes.”
Dropping my head down to my chest, I run both of my hands over my face and up into my hair.
She really doesn’t know me at all, does she?
“Listen, Liv, I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot—”
“Nope. I can definitely say my feet were not the things getting off that night.”
I want to reach over and high-five her for her quick comeback, smiling inwardly at the brief glimpse of the woman I met that night. Smart, sexy, and sarcastic as hell.
“We might not have gotten off on the right foot,” I repeat, shooting her a look to keep her quiet and let me finish, “but let’s start over, okay?”
She looks down at her stomach before giving me a bewildered look.
I laugh. “Okay, fine, we can’t exactly start over. But we can…I don’t know…get to know each other, I guess. I have a feeling there’s a lot I don’t know about you. And I can assure you, there’s a list a mile long of things you don’t know about me.”
She lifts a brow in question. “Oh, yeah? Try me. I have Google, buddy. Your life isn’t exactly top secret.”
She thinks she knows me based on what a couple of internet searches have told her. I can’t say I blame her. I’ve done a pretty damn good job of playing up my image for the press. And, fuck, part of me is that womanizing playboy they so love to photograph and talk shit on.
But there’s another side to Brandon Jeffers. A side I’m determined to make Liv see.
“I never walk away from a challenge. And I sure as hell don’t walk away from people I care about.”
Her eyes drop to the table. “You don’t even know me. You can’t possibly say you care about me.”
“I know I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since our night together. And you’re right; I don’t know you. But I know you’re carrying a part of me. That alone makes me care about you.”
“Y-you want to be part of the baby’s life?”
I snap my fingers, ending with my index finger pointed directly at her. “Bingo.”
“But…why? You don’t need to do this, Brandon. We’ll be fine without you. I’ve got this covered.”
I shake my head. She just isn’t getting it, is she?
“Liv, there’s no doubt in my mind that, if anyone could handle raising a baby on their own, it would be you. I might have only known you a short time, but in that time, you’ve done nothing but prove to me how strong and independent you are. But that’s the thing; I don’t want you to do it by yourself. No, more than that. I need you to let me do this.”
“I still don’t understand. I’m giving you a free pass. A Get Out of Jail Free card.”
I kick back in the chair, propping my feet up on the chair to my left, as I link my fingers behind my head. It doesn’t have quite the same effect as kicking them up on the table, but I’m still wearing my boots, and even I’m not gross enough to put the muddy things up where she eats.
“Keep it. I’ll take my chances on Free Parking.”
It doesn’t make a damn lick of sense, but it makes her smile all the same.
Chapter 9
Liv
Brandon shows up at my house bright and early the next day.
When I woke that morning, I had a seriously long discussion with myself over whether or not the events of the previous evening had been real or a weird pregnancy dream conjured by my off-kilter hormones and subconscious unease over this whole mother thing in general. But the longer I lay there, the clearer it became that, despite my above-average brain capacity, even I wasn’t capable of coming up with something so unlikely all on my own.
Brandon Jeffers had shown up at my house yesterday, completely unexpected. And what’s even more unexpected? He actually wants to be a part of my baby’s life.
Our. Our baby, I remind myself.
When he left last night, he promised to be by this morning so that we could spend the day together before he had to leave town again for a game. I barely slept at all last night, wondering if, after some sleep and time to think, he might change his mind.
But at seven a.m. sharp, he is banging on my door, adorable grin in place as I swing it open.
“You’re here,” I mutter like an idiot, blinking rapidly, as if somehow clearing my vision would make him disappear.
His smile widens. “Of course I am. I told you I would be.”
I stand here in shock, my mouth hanging open, as Brandon has once again proven me wrong.
He invites himself in, making himself comfy on my couch as I finish getting ready for the day. Once I deem myself presentable, I walk back downstairs to find him looking at all the pictures on the mantel.
“These are all of you and Charlie,” he observes, glancing back up at me as I reenter the room.
“Nuh-uh,” I protest. “Look,
there’s one of me and Lexi right there.”
His eyes flick over to the shot I am pointing at for a moment before falling back on the photos with Charlie.
“None with your parents though.”
I shrug, not really wanting to delve into the situation with him when I’m still not sure he is sticking around. “We’re not close. Charlie is pretty much the only family I’ve ever known. Now, come on. What’s on the agenda for the day?”
He leads me out to his truck, holding the door open for me before walking around and climbing inside.
Brandon might not live here full-time, but he’s owned the house on the lake long enough that he knows the area pretty well. He takes me to breakfast at a small diner just a few blocks from my house where half the people in town are surely sitting and talking about our appearance together.
I’m not sure how I feel about that—Brandon making it public knowledge that we’re together. I mean, not together, together. But one meal in each other’s company is enough to set off the rumor mill in a town this size.
But he and Lexi are right. He has a right to know his baby if that’s what he wants, and until that changes, I’m going to do my best to be civil and keep the peace between us.
I just need to keep any insane notions I might develop buried down deep. Like, way down deep. Twenty-thousand-leagues level deep.
It was far too easy to fall victim to his charms last night, laughing at his pathetic attempts at humor and smiling at his subtle chivalry. He is way too easy to be around, a certain level of comfort existing between us that I can’t even begin to explain after having known him for only a few hours total.
Things are different with Brandon.
And different is dangerous.
Which is why, a few hours later as he climbs up the ladder in the bookstore with an armful of books, I have to remind myself not to let my guard down. Because, despite everything he’s said in the past twenty-four hours, I’m still not convinced he’s seeing this for what it really is. He might like the idea of a baby right now. And, hell, he might even end up sticking around long enough to see him or her being born. But, the second this kid starts wailing and projectile vomiting across the room, Brandon will be running for the hills.
