Baby Batter: A Baby For The Billionaire Single Dad Romance

by Alexis Angel

  Usually, I’d be fine with something like that. In fact, I’d prefer something like that.

  Do you know what I used to say to Lana back in college? More than sleeping with a guy, there’s nothing that I like more than to wake up all by myself. Yeah, that’s me, the romance writer. I spend most of my waking hours daydreaming and writing about love and romance, but when it comes to my personal life… I’m ice-cold.

  My HEA in the morning is an empty bed that I can roll around in.

  But that ice has started to crack, and that thanks to Kirk.

  “Emily?” he whispers, and I realize with a sinking feeling that he’s waking me up because he wants to leave. After the night we spent together, he’s still acting as if there’s nothing serious going on between the two of us. I mean, we still haven’t had a proper date, but that doesn’t mean that we have can’t be serious. In fact, I never felt more serious about anything in my life.

  Then why don’t you say it, you dummy? I scold myself, but fear’s gripping my heart too tightly. If he’s getting up to leave, that must mean he doesn’t want to stay; it couldn’t be any more obvious. So why in the hell would I tell him to stay? Just so he can feed me so excuse and leave me here all the same? Yeah, like I’m going to let that happen.

  I’m not going to end up being that woman.

  Please. I write about enough of them in my books. The ones that get used around by the big alpha male.

  I’m not giving up the power here.

  Not after I did so much to stand on my own two feet.

  “Emily?” he whispers again, this time louder. Closing my eyes shut, I just pretend to be deep sleep. For a moment I hear nothing, and I assume he’s just staring at me, waiting to see if I wake up.

  I hear him start to collect his clothes from the floor and get dressed, and a few minutes later his black shoes are tapping the floor of my bedroom as he walks out. Each time I hear the tap of his shoes, my heart seems to shrink more and more, tightening up until it’s as taut as a violin strang.

  Soon enough his footsteps fade away, and then I hear the door close as he leaves the apartment. Only then do I open up my eyes. I sit up on the bed, pulling the sheets against my body and covering my naked breasts. His scent stills lingers in the room and, doing it almost unconsciously, I brush the palm of one hand over the spot where he slept. It still feels warm to the touch, and I close my eyes and let the memories of the whole night come crashing in.

  After what happened with Freeway, being with Kirk was exactly what I needed. It helped me clear my head and, more than that, it reassured me that I wasn’t wrong about him. There’s a future for the two of us… Or so I thought, because this morning I don’t feel that confident about morning.

  Kirk is always so hot and cold. I just can’t read him. Even though he seems to look at life the same way I do, I never know what he’s thinking, which is kinda ironic, since I don’t really know what to think about all this.

  How do porcupines afraid of their own shadow mate?

  It’s an old joke. The punch line is…”very carefully.” And one or both usually end up dying.

  Well, maybe WineBar and I are porcupines.

  Except that joke is playing itself out right now in real life, and I don’t feel like laughing.

  Kirk

  “You’re a fucking idiot, my friend,” Tad tells me, swirling the wine inside his glass.

  “Thanks for the support,” I reply, refilling my own glass and sighing. I’ve just told Tad about what happened this morning with Emily, and he’s already roasting me about it.

  “Seriously… What the hell did you want her to do? You shouldn’t have left. You can’t be with her and then just up and leave like it’s nothing. Of course she’ll think you just want to hook up if you keep doing shit like that.”

  “Don’t be too hard on him, Tad,” Susan tells him, ducking under the cover to get some more bottles. It’s a slow night, so I have the luxury of hanging by the counter with Tad while Susan handles whatever customers we have.

  “Me? I’m a softie, Susan,” he laughs, but I notice his gaze following after her. Susan isn’t the kind of girl I’d see Tad with, but there’s this weird chemistry whenever the two of them are close to each other. They’d make an odd couple if something were to happen between them, but so what? Love is an odd thing.

  “Fuck. You’re right,” I admit to Tad, downing my glass of wine at once. I know I shouldn’t be drinking this much while our doors are still open, but what the hell; it’s my bar. If I can’t drink here, then I can’t drink anywhere.

  “Of course I’m right… I’m always right,” he adds smugly and, even though I’m frowning, I don’t have the strength to protest. “Oh, shit, eight o’clock,” he continues, lowering his voice and pointing with his head to the door.

  I turn my gaze toward the bar’s entrance, and I do it just in time to see a drop-dead gorgeous brunette walk in. She’s wearing a skirt that’s probably a few inches shorter than her mother would recommend, and her breasts seem like they’re about to pop out of the tight blouse she’s wearing; all in all, she’s definitely the kind of girl Tad’s crazy about.

  Don’t think that I’m acting all high and mighty right now, because girls like that are usually my thing as well. And I hands down guarantee you I stand where I’m at I’ll get hit on at least five to ten times by girls like that even on a slow fucking night.

  In fact, I’m not really picky when it comes to women; as long as they’re hot enough and know how to hold a conversation for more than thirty seconds, I’m game for a few hours of fun.

  “Go, go, go,” Tad starts saying under his breath, grabbing the sleeve of my jacket and pulling me to his side of the counter. “You’ve been obsessed about that Emily for too long… Go chat to that one and clear your head.”

  “No, I don’t think that —” I start to say, but Tad just gives me a strong push and, whether I like it or not, the brunette has just turned her attention toward me. Fuck.

  “Good evening,” I greet her, trying to act like a true professional, which means not looking at her breasts more than I need to.

  “Good evening,” she repeats, looking at me with a shameless look. Arching one eyebrow, she then offers me one appraising smile. What’s up with women nowadays? I’m not a fucking piece of meat, ladies. It might not seem like it, but there’s a soul under my handsome looks.

  “Here’s our wine list,” I continue, handing her the list. As she picks it up from my hand, she brushes her fingers against mine, and I have the feeling that she just did it on purpose.

  “What do you recommend?” she asks me, not even bothering to look down at the list.

  “We’ve got a terrific Barolo, and I —”

  “The Barolo will do.” Cutting me short, she offers me a wicked smile. “What time do you get off?”

  “I’m sorry?” I ask her, not entirely sure if I heard right. Seriously, what happened to romance? Just because I’m a guy it doesn’t mean I’m walking around horny 24/7… at least most days.

  “Late,” I find myself saying, not even thinking twice about my answer. Usually I’d be all over her proposal, and I’d just take her to the bathroom and be done with it. But tonight I simply can’t bring myself to do it. Emily’s shadow looms large over me.

  “I can wait,” she continues, looking completely unphased.

  “Oh. Thank you, but I… I have a girlfriend!” Jesus Christ, did I just say it out loud? And why doesn’t it sound like an excuse? I’ve always sucked at making up excuses, but this one slipped out of my lips so perfectly that even I am tempted to believe it.

  “Oh,” she merely replies and, taking her eyes off me, she fishes her phone out of her phone and starts playing with the screen. I guess this one doesn’t believe in the sunk cost fallacy.

  “So?” Tad asks me the moment I get back behind the counter. “I noticed the way she was looking at you… She’s down for it, man.”

  “She’s definitely down for it, no doubt about
it,” I tell him with a chuckle. “But I’m not.”

  “Oh, right… I forgot, you’re a romantic now,” Tad laughs, and Susan hits him with her elbow as she walks past him. “Ouch!” He protests, but he smiles at her all the same. Yeah, there’s definitely something going on between these two… I might have to pull a few strings and make them go out on a date one of these days. Even if it turns out to be a bad decision, at least I’ll still get to laugh about it.

  “Seriously… Maybe a one-night stand would help you take your mind off Emily,” Tad insists, and that’s when I realize I don’t want to take my mind off Emily. In fact, it’s just the opposite.

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Why? It’s not like you’ve got a girlfriend…”

  “Yeah, but maybe I should…” I whisper, more to myself than to Tad. “Maybe I should.”

  “Woah, what are you saying? Are you thinking of —?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m thinking of,” I tell him. “It’s time I stop being a coward.”

  It’s the fourth quarter and I have the ball.

  Time to man up.

  Emily

  Play the field.

  Lana’s words echo inside my head like a broken record but, truth be told, they’re offering me no solace. My heart keeps on whispering Kirk’s name, my sweet WineBar. He’s always been there for me, even when I call him after a disastrous night… but the way he handles commitment doesn’t make me too hopeful about the future. So, Lana’s words come back to me again: play the field.

  “Another one of these, please,” I ask the barista, pointing to the coffee cup in my hand as I lean back against the seat. Yeah, despite all my talk of a writer’s life not being about sitting in coffee shops with a laptop, that’s exactly what I’m doing right now. Hey, don’t judge, alright?

  Tapping my fingers against the keyboard, I head straight to my email account and start going through the hundreds of replies I got during the last day. That’s one of the benefits of having an author’s newsletter; you can outsource your decision making process.

  I’m so serious. I love my Naughty Angels. I can be totally honest about when I’m being a slut and ask their advice. They’re probably sick of hearing about WineBar, but whatevs.

  I asked my readers (maybe you’re one of them? LOL) what they thought about Freeway and, even though there wasn’t a consensus, most people seem to think I should give him another chance. Maybe next time it'll go smoother, I guess. But one thing’s for sure, I won’t be the one making the first move. Oh, no, Freeway will have to do it if he wants to see me again. Which, to be honest, I’m not sure if he will… I mean, I basically kicked him out of my apartment the last time we were together.

  “There you go,” the young barista says, taking my empty coffee cup and replacing it with a new one.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, immediately taking a sip of my coffee. I go through the rest of my emails, and I finally make a decision. If Freeway makes a move, I’ll see him again. After all, I can’t sit on my ass all day and hope for Kirk to change his ways. What if that never happens? I have to live my life… And if that means I have to keep on playing the field, so be it! At least I’m good at it.

  “Oh, what have we here?” I whisper as I hear my phone buzzes. Picking it up, I can’t say I’m surprised when I see the name on the screen: Freeway. I had a feeling that he was going to reach out sooner or later.

  Hey, just wanted to say I’m sorry for last time, his text reads, and I let my thumb hover over the screen for a long time. What am I supposed to tell him now? Maybe I could compliment his choice of underwear? Maybe ask him if he knows when the good sales are? After all, even though he was wearing a thong, at least it was a pretty thong.

  OMG, who am I trying to fool? It was one of the weirdest moments of my life, and I actually never thought I’d have something like that happen to me. If you think I’m overreacting, just wait until something like that happens to you… I bet you won’t find it funny anymore.

  Don’t worry about it, I type, but then I delete the text without sending it. No, I can’t do this over a text message. I wanted him to make the first move, and that’s exactly what he did. Now the ball is in my court, and I’m going to swing for the fences. So, instead of sending him a text, I press the CALL icon.

  “Hey there,” I say the moment he picks up, trying to sound excited to be talking with him.

  “Hey!” he cries out, sounding genuinely excited about hearing from me. I wish I could say the same, but oh well, maybe that excitement will come later. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to hear from you ever again,” he admits, and I can’t help but find his honesty a bit disarming.

  “Oh, sorry about that. I guess I just wasn’t expecting it… It’s not everyday that, uh, you know,” I stammer, not really knowing how to steer the conversation. I thought that tackling what happened head-on was the way to go, but now I’m not so sure about it.

  “Yeah, I can’t really blame you,” he laughs, and he doesn’t sound concerned about what I thought of his choice of underwear. Well, at least he’s owning up to it, and confidence is sexy, right? “It won’t happen again, Emily.”

  “Good,” I laugh, my whole body relaxing. I hadn’t noticed it, but I was so tense that my shoulders and back were already starting to hurt. “So… what do you say we try again? We can go out for dinner, and then we’ll take it from there.”

  “Sounds perfect,” he replies. “Tomorrow?”

  “That’s perfect. Where do you want to meet?” I ask him but, before he has the chance to reply, I supply him with the answer. “What do you think about the W Hotel? We could meet there for dinner.”

  “The W… That’s the one off Union Square, right? Sounds good.”

  “Great, let’s make it 8 pm, okay? I’ll see you there.”

  And, just like that, it’s done. I hadn’t really given any thought to how I wanted this next date to go, but my choice of the W Hotel was a strategic one. After what happened in my place, I feel kinda wary of having him there again, but at the W we can enjoy dinner and, if I feel up to it, I can take him upstairs and try again.

  Yup, it seems like I have a plan.

  Satisfied with it, I launch my email again and start writing furiously. The girls on my newsletter are probably dying to know these latest developments, and I won’t leave them hanging.

  Game on, girl; just got off of the phone with Freeway, and we’re on for a date!, I write, and then hit SEND. Short, but to the point.

  I just hope that my next newsletter will go out full of good news.

  Naughty Angel Newsletter

  So the people have spoken...

  66% of you say its a total deal breaker when a guy wears women's panties.

  23% say, no it's not a total deal breaker.

  I mean I get where you guys are coming from in the 23%. You wanna see if there is anything that can be done — especially after the guy is so unique in how he picked me up.

  So here's what I did — because maybe I was being a bit harsh. I never actually talked to Freeway about his whole 'condition' so I texted him this morning and asked him hey you want to meet up for a drink later on today. He was like sure.

  WineBar does nothing but call or text me. I feel like I know him so well now. Like we must text each other at least 10 times a day. If Freeway makes me mad after today's drink, I'm going to go do WineBar to get it out of my system. I needs to get laid, ladies LOL.

  Well, that's a small story by itself and I need to write it out. I will have it tonight!

  Hugs and kisses and lots of love!

  Alexis

  Emily

  “I have to admit…” I start, running my tongue between my lips as I lower my gaze, looking straight at my glass as I swirl the wine inside. “I wasn’t expecting for you to, hm, be wearing a thong.”

  “Oh,” he says, and I can’t help but feel bad for what I just said. I just had to bring it up again. Why the hell can’t I forget about that… mishap? “Don’t
worry about that. I’ll be better today,” he continues, and I feel as if a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Maybe that thong thing was just a hiccup in what might turn to be a good thing? I sure hope so.

  “Great,” I reply, looking straight into his eyes and smiling back at him. I take the glass to my lips and take a little sip, allowing the oaky wine to coat my tongue. “I was actually enjoying what we were doing last time…” I tell him, my heart picking up the pace as his lips curl into a wicked grin.

  “I noticed,” he whispers, going up to his feet and closing the distance between the two of us; sitting down by my side, he places one hand softly on my knee, and I tremble slightly as I feel the warmth of his fingers. “And you’ll enjoy it today, I’m sure of that…”

  “You’re pretty confident,” I chuckle, and he takes a while to reply. He just looks at my lips, almost as if he’s imagining their flavor, and only then does he continue to speak.

  “I feel sexy today,” he laughs, his fingers now brushing against the hemline of my dress. “Not as sexy as you are, though.”

  “Oh, stop it,” I laugh, although I’m appreciating every word that comes out of his mouth. He might have a weird preference when it comes to underwear (at least that last time), but he sure knows how to warm up a woman. In fact, I think I’m about to give him another chance.

  Things went well during dinner, as he was his usual charming self, and now that we’re sharing a bottle of wine at the hotel’s bar… Well, things are looking up, I’d say. And when I say ‘things are looking up’, what I mean is that I’m about to invite him up, and that quite literally. You see, I called the W Hotel in advance and booked a room.