Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing (Hautboy Series Book 3)

by Anne Berkeley

  “Paisley,” he said as I reached the door. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. My conscience betrayed me and I turned, meeting his deep blue stare. “Take my phone.”

  He tossed it down the stairs without a second thought. I prayed that I didn’t miss the thing, for an equal fear of breaking it, and making a total fool of myself. Lucky for me he had good aim. It tumbled through the air and fell directly into my upraised hands.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me. Pax would be pissed if I let you leave without it.”

  “She’ll be fine,” the brunette spoke up. “We’ll keep an eye on her.” She smiled, but with a hint of anger in her expression. I think she had surmised the nature of the disagreement between my brother and me.

  God, I just wanted to die of mortification.

  “Bye, Peter.”

  “See you around, Pipsqueak.” He might’ve been bluffing when he threatened to call the oldest of the Shaws earlier, but I had no doubt he was going to dial him the second I walked out the door. See you around. I’m sure I would.

  Had Pax been there, he wouldn’t have let me leave the house. He was hotheaded and overprotective. He made Peter look like a kitten. I’d tried to go on a date with Chris Stratton, the school bad boy, and Pax broke his nose and chased him off. I learned to never second guess Pax. When he made a promise, he kept it. Peter pissed you off, but Pax made you cry.

  “Hey, I’m sorry about that,” I apologized as Marshall fell into step beside me. “Big brothers…you know…”

  “I respect that. He’s looking out for you,” Marshall replied. “Besides, we probably set off alarm signals when he saw us pulling up. Must’ve looked pretty shady—two black SUVs with tinted windows.”

  “We all didn’t need to get out of the car either,” Shane Richardson—the band’s drummer—added. The brunette smiled wryly, glancing askance.

  “Is that why you got out of the car?”

  “You think I’m about to let you run off alone like Wonder Woman into God knows what kind of situation?”

  “I had to stop Marshall.” As if she needed to explain something, she turned to me. “Marshall’s made it his personal mission to be the anointed rescuer of women in distress.”

  “I thought your ex was up there,” Marshall said in defense. “It was my fault. I jumped to conclusions.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I’d need rescuing from my brothers before I ever need rescuing from Henry,” I dismissed. “They can be overbearing and tend to overreact.”

  Marshall made a gruff noise and stopped beside the rear door of the Escalade. “Careful now. Big step.”

  I peered inside the cab. Jake was already seated on the farther side, behind the driver. Carter was seated in the third row, and looking unhappy about it. As I stepped onto the running board, Peter’s phone vibrated in my hand. I took a quick glance. It was from Pax.

  “I’m warning you. Don’t get into that truck.”

  I swiped the screen and dropped into the rear passenger seat. Marshall pushed the door closed and climbed into the seat in front of me. The rest of the group headed to the other truck.

  “Don’t look so scared.” I glanced at Jake, who was holding his hand out. “Name’s Jake.”

  “Paisley,” I said, taking his hand. He squeezed my hand in a firm grip and let go. I think I might’ve swooned for a moment. The temperature in the cab rose a few degrees.

  “That’s Carter,” Jake continued. “Marshall, you know. And that’s Taylor behind the wheel.” Taylor was the third bodyguard. He was blond and lean, and wasn’t one for words. He simply nodded his head.

  “Nice to meet you.” I sounded so lame.

  “You can bring your brother along if you’d feel more comfortable,” Jake pressed. “It’s cool.”

  “No, it’s not cool at all,” I replied hastily. Paging through Peter’s phone, I tried to navigate my way through the menus. “Not that I’m going to have a choice if I can’t shut off location services on this thing.”

  Carter leaned forward and extended his hand over the seat. “Give it here.” I pressed the phone into his palm. He sat back and went to work, punching at the screen with certain relish.

  “Would they really track you down like that?” Jake inquired.

  “Peter wouldn’t, but Pax would.”

  “For real?” Carter observed with amusement. “Do all your names start with P?”

  I closed my eyes and searched for inner strength. “Yeah.” My mother was such a dweeb.

  “No shit. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “Twelve.”

  “No. Fucking. Way.” Carter sat forward in the seat and handed me back my phone. Well, Peter’s phone. “Name them all.”

  Taking the phone from his hand, I sighed deeply. “In chronological order—Pax, Peter, Paisley, Powell, Paul, Patrick, Parker, Paige, Phillip, Preston, Peyton, Piper, and Perry.”

  “That’s insane!” As would anyone who’d never met the Shaws before, Carter Strickland smiled widely and laughed, amused over my mother’s genius naming skills. I sank down in the seat a few inches and stared out the window.

  “That’s like the Meyers,” Jake added. “There was six of them. All girls. All their names had Anne in them. Julianne, Luanne, Bethanne, Georgeanne…I don’t remember the last two.”

  I forced smile. Lord, just kill me now. Was I really discussing the bane of my existence with Carter Strickland and Jake Whalen? Pax was going to hand me a ration of shit tomorrow, and for what—so that I could be the brunt of jokes for a couple of rock stars?

  Leaning forward in the seat, I made an attempt at changing the subject. “How is Cooper doing?”

  “As good as can be expected,” Marshall replied.

  “Moody and emotional,” Carter expounded.

  “So would you if you had to spend the next three months in bed,” Jake chastened.

  “Dude,” said Carter, sitting back in his seat, “I’d call that vacation.”

  “I’d call you wrong.” Carter Strickland or not, he needed to be told. “She’s going to lie in bed for the next couple months and worry over the dozens of possible complications associated with pregnancy, let alone twins.”

  “Well aren’t you just the life of the party.”

  “Just pointing out that she’s hardly sitting on a beach in Fiji, sipping kava.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Something small flew past my ear and hit Marshall in the back of the head. “Another mouthy one. You really know how to pick ‘em.”

  Marshall simply bushed off the back of his head and flashed a smile. “What can I say? I have good taste.”

  “It’s a shame you’re gay.”

  “I’m not gay.”

  “I don’t know, man. You passed on Emelia, Coop and now Violet, here. Maybe you just don’t recognize your own preferences.”

  “Maybe you’re right. Why don’t you suck my dick and we’ll find out.”

  This time, Carter himself flew past my ear. I ducked to the right to avoid the crossfire of fists and punches, but I kept finding myself stuck in the middle. I was beyond euphoric when Jake reached over and dragged me onto his lap and out of the fray, fending off a few stray blows in the process.

  “Thanks,” I panted, catching my breath.

  “Welcome to the madhouse.”

  I recoiled, bringing my knees up in the air when Carter lurched in my direction. Jake planted his foot in Carter’s side and shoved him off the seat. Carter landed with an “Oomph.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Manners, mother fucker. We have a guest in the car.”

  “I’ve seen much worse,” I dismissed. “I have ten brothers. It’s like living with a football team.” So that I didn’t outstay my welcome, I started to slide off Jake’s lap, until Carter crawled into the seat beside us. My seat.

  “You can sit over here,” Carter offered. He scooted to the side and patted the seat with a few hearty thumps. “There’s plenty of room.”


  Reluctantly, I dropped into the sliver of seat he allotted me, and tried to shimmy my dress down over my thighs. The material gave no quarter. Neither did Carter Strickland. He scooted over another inch or so, but then proceeded to wrap his arm around my waist and tuck me against his side.

  “So are you the youngest?”

  Unexpectedly, I found myself caught in another maelstrom of physical reproach. “Get the fuck outta here!” Marshall exclaimed, shoving Carter out of the seat. Carter would’ve taken me with him too, had Jake not grabbed my arm.

  “Fuckin’ pervert!” Jake scoffed. “What the fuck is wrong with you!”

  “Me?” Carter objected, exasperated. “What about you?” Brooding, he dropped into the backseat and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “The women I sleep with are adults!”

  Indignant, Carter sat forward. “They were eighteen!”

  “I’m sure you checked their fake IDs before you invited them back to your hotel room.”

  “Up yours!” Carter stabbed a finger in my direction. “She’s barely older, and you brought her along!”

  “I didn’t bring her,” Jake argued. “Marshall did, and he’s responsible for her.”

  “I’m twenty-one,” I assured. “I can show you my ID. It’s real.” I glanced between the two of them, feeling like an idiot. I shouldn’t have come. The whole thing was a bad idea. Second guessing my decision, I looked toward the driver. “You know what—pull over. There’s a bar in the shopping center just ahead. I’ll get out there.”

  I was met with a round of objections I thought were more obligatory than sincere. The driver was the only honest one among them. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving you there alone, ma’am.”

  “It’s fine. I go there all the time.” Trum’s. Ironic I was going to end up there after all.

  “Keep going,” Marshall demanded. “It’s cool, kid. You don’t need to get out.”

  Rather than arguing a disagreement I wasn’t going to win, I settled in for the ride. It was going to be a long one. More often than not, I caught myself fidgeting with my hair or dress. Forcing myself to stop, I folded my hands together on my lap and stared out the window.

  I felt like a complete schmuck. Pax had nothing to worry about. The only one that hit on me, I wanted nothing to do with. He was practically a pedophile. The other two thought of me as a kid sister. Whatever. It wasn’t as if I’d ever see them again. I’d be home in a few hours, and my life would go back to its un-extraordinary self. Good riddance.

  “Jaxon—the one with the glasses,” said Marshall, over his shoulder, “Shane’s training him for Coop’s band. He plays the drums. He’s gonna play on stage tonight.”

  “Really?” It was apathetic at best. “That’s cool.”

  “He’s your age,” Jake added. “Just turned twenty-one a few months ago.”

  “Hmm.” Wonderful.

  “Fuckin’ talented,” Marshall continued. “Can’t hardly see his hand in front of his face, but play a clip of music for him, and he can memorize it by sound.”

  “Just had surgery,” Jake explained, “cataracts.”

  “So young,” I threw out there. I didn’t want to be rude. “That’s a shame.”

  “His eyesight’s improving. The doctors expect him to get full use back.”

  “That’s good.” I nodded because I couldn’t manage a smile. “He’s lucky.”

  “He’s a great kid,” Marshall reflected. “Hard worker. Devoted.” Good god, I think they were trying to fix me up with him.

  “You should come listen to him play,” Jake added. “You’re already out.”

  My eyes rolled toward the heavens. Lord, have you no mercy? I muttered internally. This is what I got for getting in the car, despite Pax’s warning.

  “Are we boring you?” Carter whispered in my ear. His tone was wry, amused.

  I turned my head, glanced over my shoulder. “You’re a bunch of old heads,” I whispered back, smiling. “Boring without Tate Watkins around.”

  Carter barked out a laugh. The others turned to look at the two of us.

  “What were you expecting?”

  “To get trashed and wake up next to someone I don’t know, and will likely never see again.”

  “Stick around, sweetheart. You still have a chance.” Lounging back in his seat, Carter kicked up his feet between Jake and me. “So tell, me, Violet, what’s the grossest thing you’ve ever seen while on duty?”

  I had to think about that a moment. I’d seen a lot during my short stint in nursing. I wanted to leave them with something memorable, so every time the subject came up, they’d think of me. In a flash of genius, I had it. “There was this guy. He was easily three hundred pounds plus. Had his back tattooed. Well, he came in, complaining that it hurt. There was a circle about the size of a bowling ball that had abscessed.”

  “A bowling ball,” Carter repeated, skeptically.

  “A bowling ball in complete circumference. The doctor sliced it open with a scalpel, and this mixture of blood and pus started pouring out like a garden hose, no exaggeration. It took over three basins to drain the thing. Toward the end, he had his hand inside, nearly to his wrist. He was just scooping out all this dead cells and debris like he was gutting a pumpkin.”

  “Dear God,” Carter muttered. “Are you serious?”

  “No lie. I’ve seen everything—boils, cankers, sores, impacted bowels, diarrhea, vomiting, larvae or bugs pulled from people’s skin or ears—but that was, by far, the worst.”

  “Weirdest?”

  “A guy came in complaining of blinding headaches. They ended up pulling a tooth from his brain. He’d absorbed his twin in utero.”

  “Perverse?”

  “A woman got a hardboiled egg stuck in her vagina.”

  “No. Fucking. Way.”

  I shrugged and smiled.

  “What else?”

  “I once had a patient come in. His dolphin got caught on his girlfriend’s hood piercing and pulled the rear ball halfway through the shaft…”

  “Enough!” Marshall pleaded. “Taylor’s a lightweight. He’s looking a little green around the gills. You need to stop.”

  “Wait—wait—wait!” Carter protested. “One more! One more!”

  “Jesus, Carter,” Jake scoffed uncomfortably. “She’s not telling bedtime stories.”

  “The most amazing.” Carter pressed. “What’s the most amazing?”

  “Pregnancy. Birth. Without question.”

  “Huh,” Carter said, sitting back in his seat again. I swear the guy never sat still. He was probably on coke. “You going to have fourteen of them to trump your mom?”

  “Me? No.” The smile faded from my face. “No, I don’t want children.” I knew what would come next. Well, not now, you’re still young. Give it a few years. You just need to find the right man. The right man had nothing to do with it. I didn’t want children. Period.

  “You’re still young,” Carter dismissed. “Give it a few years.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “You’re appeasing me, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “What do you have against kids?”

  “Nothing, except that being the third oldest out of thirteen, I know what it takes to raise a child. They take time, patience and sacrifice. Call me selfish, but I don’t have any desire to be woken at ungodly hours of the morning so that I can change a dirty diaper. I don’t want to give up my beachside vacations so that I can catch up on laundry and all the other chores I can’t maintain because I’m busy with ballet and soccer practice. I don’t want to cash in my 401k, and work until I’m on my deathbed so that I can afford the braces they need. I don’t want to play referee to the bickering of who is touching whom, and who is in one another’s space. Besides, one less Shaw in the world isn’t going to be missed. I have twelve brothers and sisters to carry on the family genes.”

  “Wow, you really don’t want kids.”

  “No,” I reit
erated, “I don’t.”

  “I don’t know…” Carter pressed. “The right guy comes along; you might change your mind.”

  “If the right guy comes along,” I argued, “I won’t have to change my mind because he won’t want children either.”

  “I’m just saying, you meet someone. You have the same interests. You fall madly in love. Your biological clock, which has been lying dormant, kicks into second gear to make up for lost time. Suddenly, you might want tiny likenesses of him running around.”

  “If I ever get the urge to nurture something, I’ll get a dog. They listen better, and they make less of a mess.”

  “You haven’t met Rake and Fiend yet,” Jake commented. The others laughed along, and I wanted to crawl farther into my skin. I wanted to crawl so far inside of myself, I’d implode and disappear. That was how incredibly small I felt. I didn’t even need my brothers to humiliate me, not when I could do it myself. Why didn’t I just keep my big mouth shut?

  Chapter 4

  “Another?” the bartender shouted. She finished drying out a shot glass and then proceeded to wipe down the bar. I hoped she didn’t go back to shot glasses when she was finished. The bar was far from clean. Some girl’s nether regions were resting there just before I sat down, and I mean her dress was so short it barely covered her, let alone acting as a barrier between her lady bits and the countertop.

  Shaking off the thought, I nodded and pushed my glass toward her. I planned to get drunk enough that I wouldn’t care how much Pax yelled at me when I called him to ask for a ride home. I certainly wasn’t hanging with the old heads. I’d learned my lesson.

  They had their own private booth. It was decent, with several tables and a clear view of the stage, but I’d snuck away as soon as I could with the pretense of using the bathroom. I wasn’t up for being lectured about my age and maturity, not by a Carter Strickland or Jake Whalen. They didn’t know me. They had no idea what it was like growing up in my shoes.

  “That’ll be five,” the bartender shouted. I was slipping a five from the cash in my wallet, when a deep voice boomed from over my shoulder.