Alton's Secret Baby

by Iris Parker

  I nodded. I could imagine this answer being true, just as easily as I could imagine that same hot blood snaking through his entire hard body. Down his thick arms and legs, returning back to his heart below the chiseled marble of his chest.

  “And my bike. Vintage, thanks to my neighbor taking pity on me when I was young. He taught me how to fix up cars, more to help me escape my house than anything. I owe him for that. It was the only purpose I had, for a while,” he said, the excitement in his eyes almost palpable. “If I’d never been recruited by the Bruins, I would’ve been a mechanic. And I would’ve been a damn good one, too.”

  There it was, an honest answer. Real depth, the kind I’d been struggling to find all through the interview. I looked at Alton and pictured the young boy he must’ve been, the one who had fled from a miserable home life to work on cars with a neighbor….

  Dammit. Why did he have to be human?

  Why did I insist on making him human?

  I took another long drink of the wine, reminding myself that it didn’t matter. Human or not, Alton had made his choice and I’d made mine. No story could change that, no matter how sad.

  “I even taught Dominick a thing or two about repairs. We’ve been riding and fixing hogs ever since then, you know. All the happiest times in my life, when I feel the most free? They’re all variations on that freaking bike.”

  “Like what?” I asked, feeling his genuine enthusiasm for the subject. Even though I knew better, I was still drawn to this man and his story. For whatever twisted reason, I sincerely wanted to learn as much as I could.

  “Riding to Upstate New York during the Indian summer, for example. Or spending hours in the workshop,” Alton said passionately. “Coming out with my hands full of grease and my belly full of cold beer. Or my favorite, taking the weekend off to ride to Atlantic City.”

  “Atlantic City?” I asked, surprised. “I figured you were the type to just fly to Vegas if you wanted to gamble.”

  “It’s not the gambling, and it wouldn’t be the same,” Alton shook his head. “I like to ride there. I go all through the night, trying to get there by early morning. I usually make it, and just barely have time to watch the sunrise with a coffee in my hand. I’m usually tired—no, I’m usually fucking exhausted—but I’m happy.”

  “That does sound nice,” I agreed genuinely. It almost reminded me of life before Stephen, back when everything was simple and happiness was a visit to my grandmother’s old cabin in Vermont. That had been like heaven for a city girl like me, and this seemed similar.

  But I didn’t want Alton to be similar to me.

  “So where do the hot women come into it? Do you pack one with you for the whole trip, or do you just pick a couple up once you get there?” I asked, grabbing a flute of champagne the sommelier had just poured.

  “Yeah, you’ve got my number all right,” Alton laughed, and years of hard interviews had taught me that he was lying through his teeth.

  “No, I don’t,” I said, drinking the champagne. “Do I?”

  “I’ve never taken a woman with me there, no,” Alton admitted. “Or picked one up when I got there. I get plenty of sex everywhere else, this isn’t about that. It’s…kind of sacred, I guess? It sounds funny, I know—Atlantic City, of all places. But I enjoy it.”

  Alton made a face as he spoke, grabbing his own glass of champagne and taking a drink. “What the hell, I am not nearly drunk enough to be spewing crap like that!”

  “If you’re not careful, you’ll ruin that carefully crafted persona,” I teased, even though it wasn’t exactly a joke.

  “Yeah. I’m smashing it to smithereens, right in front of the press,” Alton said with a frown.

  “You don’t need to think of me as the press tonight. Just Jessie will do,” I offered, putting on a flirtatious tone that felt incredibly awkward. But I couldn’t afford to be embarrassed, I was here on a mission. I needed to turn the somber conversation back to Alton’s usual style—mindless and sexual.

  “I thought you were writing an article?”

  “Ah, yeah,” I paused. “But I can leave this stuff out.”

  It was a lame answer, but it still sounded better than I lied about that to get into your pants.

  “Okay,” Alton agreed with a shrug. “Let’s try this again—it’s a total binge. I do this in the middle of the season, and Coach would kill me if he knew. I sneak out late at night, ride for hours, hit the Boardwalk in the early morning, and lose a small fortune in the process of two days. It’s worth it. I eat damn good food and then I ride back. By all rights I should get home exhausted, but that’s not what happens. Come Monday morning, yeah, practice is a pain in the ass, but I feel recharged. Your ratatouille looks delicious, by the way.”

  I laughed. Despite my better judgment, I did have to admit that Alton was pretty charming—at least when I had enough alcohol running through my veins.

  “Want to try some?” I offered.

  “Sure,” he replied with a wink, his perfect lips pursed in a gorgeous smile.

  I gently speared a bite of food with my fork, pushing it towards Alton. In a moment he grabbed my hand, guiding the food into his mouth and holding it there for a second. His touch felt electrifying, warm and firm and yet somehow reassuring.

  “Nice,” he said after finishing the bite. “So, Jessie, have you ever been to Atlantic City?”

  “Despite being a Boston girl, never!” I admitted. “Not that I didn't want to, I just never got around to it, really.” Not when I'd married straight out of college, and then almost immediately started tending to a sick husband. “I'm sure I'll go someday.”

  “How about tonight?”

  My eyes shot straight to Alton’s face, and I dropped my fork in surprise. He had a cocky smile on his lips, like he’d just proclaimed himself to be my personal savior.

  “But you don’t take women there,” I said cautiously.

  “Rules exist to be broken, right?” he said, his voice full of boyish sincerity.

  “What exactly are you suggesting?” I asked, unnerved by the unexpected suggestion.

  “Well,” Alton began, an excited grin on his face. “By the time we’re done here, the little alcohol I’ve had will be safely out of my system. Then we can ride, just the two of us. Together. In Atlantic City, all expenses paid.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  “And…what’s in it for you?” I asked cautiously, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

  “Company.”

  Is that a line? Does he do this all the time? I wondered. Coming into this, I’d expected Alton to be an irredeemable slimeball, and a story like that would’ve certainly fit the bill. To tell every girl he’s with about his secret hideaway that he never shares with a woman, only to invite her there a few moments later…yeah. That was manipulative enough that it completely fit the man I’d expected to meet.

  But I hadn’t actually met that man. All day today, Alton had surprised me time and again. The more I looked at him, the more sincere he seemed, which surprised me. And worried me.

  Years of investigative journalism had taught me how to read people, and I knew that every word Alton had said was true. More than that, I knew what would happen if I said no—the rest of the date would likely be awkward silence, and then I’d never see him again.

  I couldn’t allow that to happen. I needed to seduce Alton, and it needed to be this weekend. I only had one shot, and this was it.

  “I would love to,” I said finally, and Alton’s face lit up with unabashed joy.

  I forced a smile and took another sip of champagne, wondering if the only irredeemable slimeball on this date was me.

  Alton

  I had no idea what had gotten into me.

  Or well, maybe I did.

  But it was hard to pin down, and even harder to admit. Had it begun when Dominick started shacking up with Helena? Having a family went against the grain of everything we’d ever believed, but yet somehow he’d made it work. Not
to mention that it was a lot less fun to party every night without an accomplice.

  Or maybe it had started more recently than that. Maybe it was that damned sparkle in Jessie’s eyes, the look of complexity and confusion that kept drawing me in even as all my instincts screamed at me to run. And there was no doubting that she was smart as hell, witty and clever, with a certain je ne sais quoi that made me enjoy simply being around her.

  And then there was my cock, of course.

  Getting hard at the most damn inconvenient times, like I was going through the agony of puberty all over again. It was giving me more problems than it had in years, making me feel insatiable out of nowhere.

  And yet I’d invited Jessie to Atlantic City rather than just taking her to a hotel.

  What the hell was up with that?

  I was losing my damned mind, that’s what.

  I needed a good, strong Irish beer—or ten—except I couldn’t drink, not with the ride ahead of us. Jessie was already off getting properly dressed for a night on the road, and I didn’t have much time to waste myself.

  And that ruled out the other option for taking care of my little problem. Not that I would’ve anyway, I hadn’t needed to resort to that in years. Not with dozens of women throwing themselves at me every single night.

  Women I’d inexplicably been avoiding since the bachelor auction.

  Yeah, losing my mind. That was the only explanation that made any kind of sense.

  I hurried to get ready for the trip myself, swinging back home to get a small bag of clothes and two bike helmets. After making a few phone calls, I made it to the address Jessie had given me—just early enough that I could drive myself crazy wondering why I was going crazy, not to mention questioning if she’d chicken out and cancel the whole thing.

  And maybe that would’ve been for the best after all. I’d been to Atlantic City alone more times than I could count, and it was always invigorating. A weekend by myself helped me recharge and maybe a good reset was exactly what I needed to get Jessie out of my system. After all, she—

  The door swung open and Jessie’s petite silhouette hurried towards me.

  I hated how damned relieved I felt.

  “Hey!” she called, waving at me with a wide and gorgeous smile on her lips. She looked absolutely amazing, dressed in leather pants and boots that contrasted sharply with her long blonde hair. I could’ve stared at her all damn night, except that my own riding pants were tight enough that it would’ve been a very bad idea.

  “You ready?” I asked, resisting the urge to tell her how good she looked. I was already acting too damned awkward as it was, and I certainly didn’t need to add stupid gushing compliments to the list.

  “Yeah—wow, that’s a big bike,” she said, her eyes widening with a hint of apprehension.

  “And a pleasure to ride, I assure you,” I said. “I can’t vouch for the passenger position of course, but you should find it comfortable.”

  Jessie took a timid step forward, hesitating for a moment as she hovered just behind me.

  “Come on, hop on up. It looks a lot scarier than it actually is,” I said as I balanced the bike between my legs. I patted her seat for her and gave a wink. “Once you’re actually inside, everything else is easy.”

  “But it doesn’t have an inside,” she pointed out.

  “Well, you’ve got me there,” I agreed. “But give it a try anyway.”

  Jessie closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath. When they opened again the hesitation was gone, replaced by the steel and determination that I’d seen her with countless times before. With a surprisingly smooth, quick motion, she straddled the bike just behind me.

  The girl did nothing by half-measures, that was for damn sure.

  “What do I hold onto?” she asked, and in my peripheral vision I could see her hands hesitating in the air. “I’ve never actually done this before.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat. I can’t wait until you feel the rush that it always gives me,” I said, motioning towards the footrests. “Put your feet there. And for your arms, just hang on tight.”

  “Hang on to what?”

  “Me.”

  I felt her sliding closer to me, and I suppressed a shiver as her warmth enveloped my entire back. Her small arms circled my waist after that, her hands resting just below my chest.

  I hoped that they wouldn’t go down much further than that during the trip.

  “Are you comfortable?” I asked, and felt her nodding near my shoulder. “If you don’t like it, just tap my thigh, okay?”

  “Okay,” she acquiesced softly, and even through our thick clothes I could’ve sworn I felt her heart pounding wildly against my back. I paused for a second, my own heart echoing Jessie’s. I suppressed a groan, annoyed with myself for caring at all.

  I reminded myself that I’d had plenty of girls on the bike before, and dammit, there would be plenty more after tonight. This was nothing new, and I needed to keep my head on straight. Once she landed in my bed, she’d be old history just like all the rest of them—and I’d once again be free to chase as many other women as I wanted.

  Like a dog chasing his own tail. Completely pointless, even when you succeed, I added, an intrusive thought that came out of nowhere as we put on our helmets.

  Dammit.

  Eager to be on the way, I revved up the engine and we were off.

  Jessie

  “How are you liking it so far?” Alton’s masculine voice resonated inside the helmet, startling me. “Bluetooth,” he explained, picking up on the way I’d grabbed him tightly.

  Well, tighter. I’d been a difficult passenger so far, there was no doubt about that. It was my first time riding a bike, and I was apprehensive even though Alton had been great about my inexperience. Every time my arms started shaking he’d slowed down, even stopping sometimes, until I found my strength again.

  “It’s certainly, uh, memorable,” I said, shuddering as I realized we’d hit the Interstate soon. I wondered how I would handle going at even faster speeds. With hours to go before we arrived at Atlantic City, I was already beginning to worry that this was one of the worst decisions in my life.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it fast. And then it’s nice,” Alton said. “And don’t be shy. Try getting even closer, like you’re fusing your body into mine. That should make it easier to hold on even tighter.”

  I did as he instructed, scooting myself so close that I felt as if I could hardly tell where his body ended and mine began. Except I could tell, because Alton’s back was impossibly wide against my arms. Even through the thick leather jacket, I could feel the tightness of his bulging muscles.

  There was no mistaking Alton’s body for mine, not really. His felt like it was crafted from a solid slab of marble, while mine had a heart that felt like it was going to explode in my chest any second now.

  “There, that should help you relax,” Alton said, his voice smooth and soothing. “Now try resting your head against my back.”

  I leaned the side of my helmet against his shoulder blades, and slowly I began to feel more secure. Sheltered behind his large frame, I could almost forget the constant risk of death and relax.

  I could almost feel safe.

  But then the bike turned onto the Interstate, picking up speed. I held on even tighter, praying not just for my own life but for Ezra’s, too.

  I needed to remember why I was doing this.

  After a while though, I got used to the increased speed. Alton hardly moved at all, stable and solid, and I felt a little of the oppressive tension lifting away in my chest. He was a skilled rider, and I was clearly in good hands. I even managed to loosen the death grip I had on his waist, my fear slowly beginning to subside. It took a long time, but eventually I could feel my body relaxing in earnest, holding on just tight enough to be practical.

  The miles piled up, and Alton’s unwavering hold on the bike was reassuring. My head lolled against his back, and I could feel myself breath
e fully for the first time since we started. That was quite a relief, even though I knew full well that we still had a long ride ahead of us.

  “Feeling better now?” Alton asked.

  “Strangely, yes. A lot better, actually.”

  “You’re doing great for a first timer,” he reassured me, his low and gravelly voice delivered straight to my ears.

  “Am I? I feel like if your pockets had been full of walnuts, I’d have cracked them all by now,” I joked. “But I do feel like I was holding on for dear life for a while there.”

  “Just a feeling, you’re actually perfectly safe,” Alton chuckled. “But I’m afraid that I’m fresh out of pocket walnuts.”

  Ordinarily I would’ve playfully slapped him on the shoulder for that. Except I didn’t, because, you know, I didn’t want to die in a horrible fiery crash.

  About an hour later we pulled over, stopping at a rest area for a well-deserved cup of coffee. It was a welcome break, and we quickly found a standing table near where we’d parked. For one brief, glorious moment, the whole thing almost felt like a romantic picnic, the kind I used to have with Stephen.

  Except this picnic had no food.

  And we were surrounded by trucks.

  Also it was the middle of the night.

  Still, somehow it did feel cozy. And the stars were just a little bit brighter than I’d ever seen them before, as we were some distance away from the city and its blinding lights. I closed my eyes, my head full of conflicting emotions—not the least of which was guilt.

  Alton really did seem like a decent person, and I couldn’t reconcile it with the callous way he’d ignored all my earlier attempts to contact him. Maybe if I tried explaining the situation again, in person this time, he might—

  He might say no, and then Ezra would die.

  That wasn’t a risk I could take, not just for the sake of having a clean conscience.

  I sighed.

  “Are you okay?” Alton said with a wince. “You seem tense. Worse than when you were on the bike, actually.”

  “Just thinking about the future,” I said, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air.