Mission For Love (Love By Design Book 6)

by M. C. Cerny

  “The baby is going to be so adorable. Can I tell Jonathon? He’ll be so happy for you.”

  “Please, and send him my regards. I wouldn’t be in remission without him.”

  Dr. Hillman smiled and turned to us both, “You’re a fighter, Kiara. Your babies will be too.”

  David’s face frowned, “Did you say babies, Dr. Hillman?”

  “I sure did. Take a look here.” She pressed lower and pointed at the screen. “Right there. Two little peanuts.”

  “Two. Baby. She said two.”

  “David? Honey? Are you okay?” My big strong husband made huffing sounds and staggered back from the exam bed.

  “Sit down. Breath deep.” Dr. Hillman smiled at me. “This happens more often than you realize.” She put the ultrasound wand down and helped David to the chair, her hand on his shoulder. I leaned up but she waved me to lay back down.

  “Let’s a get a picture of these cute babies for you to take home.” She resumed the scan and David kept his head between his knees for a few moments.

  “I’m okay, Kiara. I’m beyond amazed and happy, I just needed a second.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re overwhelmed. I think I’ll feel it too when the shock wears off.” The shock kept me numb from freaking out. We weren’t having one baby. We were having two babies at the same time. Double of everything. Double cuteness, strollers, diapers, and love. I was lucky to have David with my on this ride.

  “You’re happy?” His gaze searched my face and I nodded feeling the tightness in my chest and the tears pooling in my eyes as the uncontrollable wave of love for this man flooded me.

  “I’m so happy, David. Come here.” I waved him back to me and he joined me again. His hands cupped my cheeks and he kissed me with the gentlest hold. This man was my everything and now we’d start this journey together doubly blessed. My mother was going to maim him and then bake him the biggest apple pie. I couldn’t wait to tell my family.

  Excerpt from Mine To Keep

  EVAN

  I had an unusual fascination with my not-girlfriend’s breasts. In an effort to not be a pig like my ex-girlfriend enjoyed pointing out, I did anything but look at them. Unfortunately, that left me looking at all sorts of odd things like the tchotchkes all over the walls of Easton’s Pub. Antique growlers, pictures in black and white, and the odd amount of farm equipment bolted into the walls.

  It didn’t help that I was reminded of the not-kiss we shared months ago when I was on an atypical bender. Apparently, I even touched the objects of my fascination before she ran off into the kitchen like a scared cat on a hot tin roof or some other southern euphemism I googled after listening to her whisper the words against my beer soaked lips. I felt like an idiot–one who took advantage of a sweet girl I hadn’t meant to.

  So instead of making eye contact, I tried to be normal. I focused on a space beyond her shoulder and clenched my fists fantasizing about her small cupful of breasts that left me hungry and unsettled. I forced myself to hang back so I didn’t jump in her way making her drop the glasses she grabbed off the tables. I tried to be helpful, but my dick was conversing other ideas to my brain as I observed her movements.

  Little momma was more stubborn than a mule. There was also a high probability I would get kicked telling her that. I licked my lips as she walked away and mentally berated myself for not kissing her senseless or just backing away all together giving her the space her body language said she wanted so badly. I was an idiot. An idiot half in love with a pregnant girl who wasn’t mine.

  Remi Kennedy sashayed her pert round ass past me to another table while I held her bucket of dishes feeling gob smacked. Yeah, that was the word I was looking for as I noticed her grimace from across the bar, and when neither of her bosses, who in their defense were tending their business did anything to stop her. I felt compelled to take the matter up myself.

  She had been shaking her fine ass to a song I hadn’t heard in years. Little school girl outfits and long red haired pigtails came to mind, the later not so much the stuff of my adult fantasies, but the former in a nice red plaid would have done me fine. Her black apron was tiny, one pocket holding her writing pad for drink orders and appetizers didn’t cover much, and the shorts she wore accentuated the cup of her cheeks, that I very, very badly wanted to touch. I swore there was a little more skin showing out from the frayed denim tonight than on previous nights (that I swore I wasn’t watching her) that made me harder than a steel pole. Thank god for the bucket of dishes parked in my lap hiding my straining erection. I wasn’t letting those dishes go for anything no matter how pretty she begged me.

  Tonight, her red hair was up in messy bun and the pale skin of her neck showed freckles skimming the delicate surface from the bridge of her nose right down past her collarbone and into her shirt. Curiosity made me wonder if the freckles trailed over her round plump breasts or down her back like faint leopard spots. I bet I could peek if I got close enough given how short she was compared to me, but then I would have to smell her. Smelling her could be equally as dangerous.

  Being tall definitely had it perks and responsibilities and as an officer of the law I made an oath to use my powers for good. However, the tempting thoughts of wrapping my hand around her neck in a lose hold while I pounded into her from behind in tune to the beats of my heart and the music playing from the jukebox in the corner clouded my mind. Connecting the imaginary freckles on her back with my tongue dried my mouth and I stopped myself from chugging my beer down. Damn, I was kind of a pervert, or maybe I was overthinking things. I didn’t know.

  “Um Evan?” I hadn’t realized she’d been talking to me until she tugged on the bucket I held. She could beg prettily, pout her kissable lips, but no way in hell was I giving up my armor. This dick of mine might scare her off the way it was standing proud and loud tonight.

  “Remi?” I stared into her green eyes that held me captive waiting for her next words.

  “Can I have that now?” She tugged on the bucket, her bottom lip half bitten, and stupidly I looked down unrelenting in my grasp. She kept a gentle tug going but I held it firm.

  “No.” I didn’t have anything else intelligent or otherwise to say. I wanted her to tug other things inappropriately, but I kept that to myself. Despite her rounded state, her clear beguiling eyes said wasn’t experienced in the ways of men.

  “But Andy needs that bucket in the back.” Pouting all night would get her nowhere. I didn’t care if she begged me, which I knew she wouldn’t. Remi would huff and puff and walk away first then fight with me. Her face had a pinched look to it like she hadn’t been sleeping. I wasn’t giving the damn bucket to her, but I would be taking this up with Andy and David to find her something else to do at the bar for work or at least giving her better hours.

  “Okay.” Still I held on waiting for her to give up. When she blew a breath of air curling her top lip and lifting her hair I knew I had her.

  “For the dishwasher, since you’ve got it and all.” Remi got the hint finally backing up, walking off to the next table, her table rag slung over her shoulder leaving me behind. I had to take a tentative step sideways because the angle of my hard dick was bent awkwardly in my jeans making it difficult to move.

  “No, I’ll take that back.” Mumbling, I turned leaving her to finish her job refilling the salt and pepper shakers, her back arching over the table to reach them. She was over the table at the perfect angle, her rear curved showing that lickable crease of skin and nope, nope, nope, I wasn’t going there in my head even if my cock had gone there imagining all the things I wanted to do to her.

  A cleared throat forced me to tear my eyes away growling and mentally pontificating the why nots.

  “I got that, lover boy.” Andy Easton, the co-owner of Easton’s Pub, a good friend I shared a great deal of history with helped me out by taking the bucket in the back. I had it so bad for her there was no hiding my physical evidence with the bucket gone. It took a second to adjust myself
before I followed him giving me something to do, and to keep my dick from getting any ideas like jumping out at a lovely red head, who was clearly off limits to me.

  “Thanks.” I mumbled watching him drop off the bucket to the dishwasher as we circled back out to the bar. The kitchen area was clean and small, but it didn’t need much considering the bar menu was small serving appetizers to an after dinner and weekend crowd with home brewed beers and local wines. The back door was open letting in cool air while Paddy the chef served up bowls of beer chili and potato boats.

  “Doesn’t the department pay you enough, Officer Rooney?” David Easton, Andy’s older brother was sitting at the bar nursing a soda, and flipping through some paperwork. I don’t think he looked up once, but the steel hunch of his shoulders let me know how aware he was in the moment. It was a holdover obviously from his military training, one I was familiar with having attended the state police academy. My training wasn’t anything as extensive as David’s, who was a decorated war hero, and I appreciated what it took to serve our country.

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’m looking for some part time work.” My answer was bullshit, but I needed something to cover the affliction I was calling my attraction to Remi. These guys would take me out back, David especially, and beat the feelings out of me for sure if they even suspected I was sniffing around their little barmaid.

  “Pretty sure you can’t work with alcohol while you’re on the job and we’re not hiring.” David’s voice was gruff and I could only see a partial profile of him from where he sat at the end of the bar. His hawkish features were backlighted giving him a terrifying appearance that was made worse by his scars. It was truly a face only a mother could love or a very interested woman if the gossip about the teacher was anything to go by.

  Andy leaned over the bar wiping it down, “What my charming brother is trying to say in so many words is stay away from Remi. Please. That girl has been through enough and as far as we’re concerned, she’s not available.” Andy nodded to David who mumbled to himself resuming flipping papers, and I got the message loud and clear. What happened to Remi wasn’t exactly a secret around town even if I didn’t know all the low down dirt on it.

  “She isn’t my type.” I’m bullshitting. By type, I should have prefaced it with; she wasn’t easy, she was sweet in the down home sort of way that made me think of Sunday dinners and grits. If anything, I wasn’t her type. I was kind of a man-slut according to my best friend with benefits and had no business starting something I couldn’t put a ring on. I could hear my father’s latest sermon echoing in my head condemning me to hell for even thinking about Remington Kennedy in a scandalous way.

  “See that she isn’t.” David’s glare would have withered a lesser man, but I had no ill intent toward her and no motives unless jacking off in secret imagining her lush late pregnancy curves was pervy. Okay, it was totally pervy, but Remington was banging in the fine department even before her bun in the oven and I was a hapless admirer.

  “I wasn’t… I didn’t…” but I was caught looking. David grunted and ignored me while Andy gave me a side eye and continued cleaning up the bar rubbing the polished wood with vigor that said it’d be my neck next if I wasn’t careful.

  Andy growled and if he didn’t stop cleaning the varnish was going to come off, “We’re very protective of our staff, Officer Rooney.”

  I wasn’t pursuing Remi. I knew better than that and the gentle roundness of her belly told me she was already involved with someone or rather a symbiotic someone she would be welcoming shortly by the looks of things. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen a boyfriend or any guy coming here for her. I didn’t need any more complications since my longstanding on and off again friends with benefits had broken it off with me for her loser boyfriend. I wasn’t heartbroken in the least, but my bed was empty and considering I went from regular fucking to nothing it was a change I wasn’t totally comfortable with if I was honest with myself. I was in fact for the first time fancy free so there was no harm in looking right?

  I’d heard plenty of the rumors, her getting knocked up by the University football star and left behind while he chased his dreams of the NFL. I had hoped he would bust a knee right after they drafted his ass. Since then, I never saw anyone claim Remington Kennedy. Yes, I knew she was named after a gun and being a cop the irony wasn’t lost on me. She was cute as button, my mother would say, and much too good for me. She had the wholesome look from behind, but once she turned enough to see her rounded profile most guys either ran or tried to give her a one liner at the bar.

  It frustrated me to keep my distance, but last time I counted forty-seven freckles over her nose and cheekbones. I had been and continued to be a monogamously serial dater. Heck, Kristen Calloway had been on my speed dial for years in between women because we got along so well. Since she finally sported Damian Hart’s ring I had been left out high and dry. Remi wasn’t a girl you played with and I wasn’t in the market for commitment. It was in everyone’s best interest that I leave her alone, even if I couldn’t get the feel and taste of her lips off my addled mind.

  Remington Kennedy was out of “bless your hearts” to give.

  She moved North for a chance at something better. Her compass to success was getting an education and getting out of tornado alley. A failed scholarship led her to tending bar. A lie drove her into the arms of the town football star filled with hopes and dreams. A year later, she found herself with a baby on the way, more lost than ever, alone, and terrified.

  Evan Rooney was nobody’s hero.

  As a good cop in a small town, he felt the daily weight of responsibility. Known as the Preacher’s son, he struggled to keep his faith…but secrets had a way of finding the surface and Evan found himself drawn to the red headed barmaid with a bun in the oven like a moth to it’s flame.

  Both needed a little saving…both needed love, and a baby needed a family made of more than just DNA.

  “Funny, laugh out loud characters who don’t know if they want to kiss or kill each other.”

  One-click Mine To Keep now!

  Books by M.C. Cerny

  DESIGNED BY LOVES SERIES

  First Love - Prequel

  Love Under Construction

  Unlovely Things

  Heartburn

  Tailwind

  Love Actually

  Mission For Love

  Mine To Keep

  Love On Tap

  REVENGE & LEGACY SERIES

  Rival

  Hunter

  Prey

  Conqueror

  Oath

  GOLD BEACH DUET

  Summer Ever After

  Remains of Winter

  THE MATCHMAKER SERIES

  Under The Mistletoe

  The Naughty List

  Own The Night

  The Matchmakers - Boxset

  THE CLUB

  An Eye For An Eye

  Branded

  Blinded Love - Boxset

  RESCUED BY LOVE

  Rescue Me

  WTF

  THE VAULT (Dockside Devils)

  Declan’s Demand

  Sydney’s Submission

  LeHavre’s Lover

  STANDALONE NOVELS

  Deviation

  Night Owl

  Dream Catcher

  The Warden

  Angel

  Hollywood Lover

  Royal Disaster

  Stolen September

  Secret Obsession

  Never Been Kissed

  Wedding In Waiting

  FOR A COMPLETE LISTING OF M.C. CERNY BOOKS, VISIT:

  www.authormccerny.com

  About the Author

  M.C. Cerny is a USA Today Bestselling author of fresh sexy books. She experienced her first real ugly cry reading, Where The Red Fern Grows, and never looked back. She lives with a menagerie of human and feline fur-babies in rural NJ. When M.C. is not writing, you’ll find her lurking in Starbucks, running stupid marathons, and eating all the tacos.
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  www.authormccerny.com

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except for use in a review, the reproduction or use of this work in any part is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  Mission For Love © 2020 by M.C. Cerny

  Cover Design by Q Designs

  Editing by Susan Vanderly

  Formatting by M.C. Cerny