Daddy Undercover (Crescent Cove Book 9)

by Taryn Quinn

  Ten minutes later, I was on my way again with my shiny new ticket in my purse and another slew of texts coming in rapid-fire. Which I did not check while driving, since that was also a violation, and the last thing I needed was for Christian to sneak up and nab me twice in one day.

  And even if I babysat his kid until she took her SATs, Brooks would not get me out of that ticket. If he lived happily on his high moral ground about shopping at Walmart, my desire to be less late to Thanksgiving mattered not at all.

  I might’ve admired him if he didn’t irritate me so damn much.

  That irritation came into brilliant, blooming focus as I drove up my parents’ street and started taking stock of the cars filling the drive and parked along the curb. A lot of the usual suspects were already in attendance. Pretty much everyone I’d expected, except for one particular vehicle I hadn’t planned on seeing.

  The presence of Jared’s Jeep wouldn’t have been shocking if we hadn’t left things on a non-family-Thanksgiving note yesterday afternoon—and if he hadn’t had a baby to care for.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. He wouldn’t have left her home with the dog just to get some pie. I mean, my double pecan had won first place at the State Fair three years running, but leaving Samantha unattended for just a slice was a bit much.

  He hadn’t even texted to apologize or grovel or even just talk. He’d just shown up and said gimme. As if my family was his family.

  And it kind of was, when he didn’t deserve to be disinvited.

  But then I opened my eyes again and noticed that Jared’s brother Mason was just getting out of one side of his own vehicle, and their dad was climbing out of the passenger side. What the hell? The whole Brooks clan had never come to dinner with my family before.

  Not that they wouldn’t have been welcome. My mom had extra leaves for my abuela’s vintage table and didn’t hesitate to use them. Just why had he invited them when we were on the outs?

  I slammed out of my car and belatedly remembered to take the cold bag as I rushed to catch up with Mason and Mr. Brooks. It took three tries for Mason to hear me, and the pair of them turned to watch from the porch as I hurried up the walk and nearly snapped an ankle on the crack in the sidewalk I almost always missed.

  “Happy Thanksgiving. Hi, Mr. Brooks,” I added breathlessly once I joined them at the door.

  “Hey, Gina. We thought we’d be the latest ones. Oh…huh. Has Jared seen you yet?” Then Mason shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, he couldn’t have, since he asked us to meet him here.”

  “To meet you? That’s odd. Why wouldn’t he ride over with—” I broke off and charged ahead of them, pushing open the front door and striding into the chaos within.

  He wouldn’t do it. Not without warning me or giving me a chance to tell my mother, so she didn’t disown me for lying to her or being evasive at the very least. Brooks was many things, but he wouldn’t blindside me like that.

  Then Samantha’s cry rang out, a sound I already knew almost as well as if I’d been her biological mother. It had been just one day since I’d seen her, and I ached to hold her. Her tears set off a physical pang inside me, making me clutch my stomach.

  I raced into the center of the melee—otherwise known as my parents’ formal dining room. Approximately twenty people that I cared about were staring at Jared and his sobbing baby girl, adorably dressed in the brown turkey onesie I’d bought her the last time I went shopping.

  And Jared was staring at me.

  Ten

  I’d thought out this plan. True, it had been mostly formulated during my sleepless night last night, so I hadn’t been in the best frame of mind. I’d also been fresh from arguing with Gina and nursing a beer—all right, two, my personal limit except occasionally on Christmas Eve—so I’d been a little reckless.

  Telling a whole town of people I was now a father without benefit of a visible gestation period or even a present mother wasn’t at the top of my list of fun things. But it needed to be done. Gina was correct that I’d delayed long enough.

  Logic dictated the best way was to gather everyone I knew and share it at once. Briefly, I’d considered using a megaphone while standing in the gazebo by the lake, but I didn’t want Samantha to need therapy in later years when people teased her about it.

  So, I’d settled on plan B.

  I invited my family to the Ramos family Thanksgiving. And then, this weekend, I’d invite my friends over to my cabin while their womenfolk shopped or wrapped presents or whatever the female members of healthy family units did on holiday weekends.

  What I’d forgotten to consider? That Gina might have the physical capability to render me mute by wearing items of clothing she’d never worn in my presence before.

  Like strappy high heels. A skirt that flirted with golden, toned thighs and made my throat dry. And her top was—dear God, I was torn between wanting to wrap her up in the tablecloth and wishing I could shout to the world that she was the most beautiful woman on this entire planet and she was…not mine.

  Fuck.

  It didn’t stop there. She’d left her dark hair long and wavy and tumbling over her shoulders. Even her face was altered slightly. The same features were there, of course. Same snapping dark eyes. Same luscious lips. Same little star tattoo next to one eye, so small I didn’t usually notice it. But right now, everything about her was in Technicolor while everyone around her was in black and white.

  And she was not greeting me in a standard way. I hadn’t heard the beginning of her monologue due to being struck dead, but at the moment, she was spewing a long string of curse words in Spanish that she saved for only the biggest of offenses.

  Ones I had apparently committed.

  I shifted the bellowing baby from one arm to the other and stood my ground until she got it out of her system. I would’ve preferred if we could have this conversation in private, but so be it.

  Obviously, it was time that all the cards were fanned out over the Thanksgiving table.

  As an aside, it looked lovely with its Irish lace tablecloth—from a distant relative on Bonnie’s mother’s side—and china place settings for about a hundred people.

  Maybe just ninety-nine. Since I was one of them, I was okay with it. Assuming I didn’t get kicked out, which remained to be seen.

  Maybe I could smuggle out some fresh buttered rolls in the baby’s hooded onesie. They wouldn’t deny a child food, right?

  Even one without teeth.

  “Dios, you are the most selfish, pigheaded male I have ever seen in my twenty-four years. Worse than that, you are a sorry excuse for a—”

  Gasps sounded from the assorted family members and friends gathered around the table.

  “Public servant,” she finished, making a hand gesture I’d never witnessed before and would have to investigate to learn its exact meaning.

  Much later.

  I passed off my squalling child to the nearest Ramos who wasn’t shooting laser beams of death at my head and strode around the table toward Gina, muttering apologies as I nudged people aside. I nodded at my brother and my father who had just joined the group, looking more than a bit perplexed. I’d explain it all later.

  The only problem with doing a mass baby reveal was that there wasn’t a lot of time for speeches. Once they all saw the kid, the time for build-up was over. Maybe I should’ve brought her into the house in a more concealed fashion. For the next hidden baby unveiling, I’d work on my technique.

  Wrong. I was never doing this again. Ever. Not in this life or any other.

  “You take that back.” I marched up to her. She was much closer to my height in those sex stilts. “I uphold my position with the utmost dedication and respect for the law. You, on the other hand, do not. Who got a speeding ticket today? On a feast day such as this.”

  More gasps rang out, and I noted every one with glee as I absorbed Gina’s murderous expression.

  “For thirteen miles over the speed limit. You’re no better than a common scofflaw.”
/>
  She poked my chest. “Did your lackey call you immediately?”

  “Yes, as he should have. I was bringing my child to this event, only to get word that my best friend was no better than any other driving…violator,” I finished as my brother let out a loud laugh that I could’ve recognized anywhere.

  I shifted toward him. “Don’t start.”

  Mason held up his hands in apology. “I’m enjoying this show. Can’t wait to hear where you got a baby.”

  “The usual place,” Gina retorted hotly. “Remember that police convention last winter? The one he couldn’t take me to because he said, and I quote, the city got quite cold.”

  I cleared my throat. “It’s a dangerous environment.”

  “Oh, right, you want to put me under glass while you go off to meet some woman who you probably don’t even know her last name and make a kid with her. Typical Brooks BS. You willingly invited that woman you didn’t even know into our lives forever.” Either it was a trick of her fancy mascara or tears sparkled on her lashes.

  I hadn’t seen Gina cry in…ever.

  She’d never cried in front of me. Not even close.

  I swallowed hard over the lump in my throat. “Can you all give us a second, please? We won’t be long.”

  “Dios mio.” Some elderly uncle of Gina’s shuffled by with a bemused smile. “I’ll go, but this was better than Jerry Springer. When’s the paternity test?”

  “He won’t take one,” Gina said low enough for only me to hear.

  I didn’t argue because I hadn’t taken it yet, but I would. Absolutely.

  Not that it mattered. Samantha was my daughter either way. I wasn’t a man who could turn his affection on and off because of words on a page. She needed me and, well, maybe I needed her too.

  I turned to see if she’d been carted out by the same relative who had been holding her and instead came face to face with Bonnie.

  I cleared my throat. “You don’t have to tell me you’re disappointed.”

  “Good, because I’m not. We all make mistakes.”

  “Are you serious?” Gina demanded. “You’re on me if I don’t tell you every single thing I do, and you give him a free pass for this?”

  “Mija, look at him. Really look.” Bonnie grabbed my face and shifted me toward Gina. It was probably the most uncomfortable moment in my life, and I’d had more than a few of them.

  Gina frowned. “So? He feels bad.”

  “Why do you think he feels bad? Just a second.” Thankfully, she released me before directing her attention to the stragglers. “Frankie, Gabby, out. Your sister needs you. Not this sister. And your brother should be here anytime. Go outside and wait for him.”

  I cocked a brow. “Damien is coming?”

  In the several years I’d been friends with Gina, I’d only met her older brother a few times. He was a carpenter and often traveled with a philanthropic group to build homes for the disadvantaged.

  “He’s moving back,” Frankie informed me, tossing back her thick dark hair. As always, she was clad in designer clothes and was coolly beautiful as she assessed me with her shrewd dark eyes. “You might need a house when Gina torches yours. I’ll give you his card.”

  I had no response to that. Maybe I should take it just in case.

  “It’s twenty-nine degrees out, mami.” Gabby huffed in disgust. “You want us to take a pregnant woman into the cold?”

  Gina gave me a hard stare. “Yeah, cold is really bad for us Ramos women.”

  “Do something with her and yourselves and give these two thickheaded people some space.”

  They dispersed.

  The last one to go was Gina’s dad, who pointed his fingers at his eyes and then pointed them at me to indicate he was watching me. I nodded in acknowledgment. Considering how the day had gone so far, I’d gotten off easy.

  I didn’t appreciate being called thick, but I also couldn’t dispute that description at the moment. “Where’s Samantha?”

  “My abuela has her.” Gina gave my arm an absent rub as if she’d briefly forgotten she was pissed at me. The warmth of her skin against mine even through my shirt was comforting—and was also causing another sensation I should not have been aware of with her mother standing inches away.

  Staring down at her daughter’s hand on my arm.

  “That is what I mean. You have so much between you. Isn’t it time you deal with that instead of squabbling over nonsense?”

  Gina lifted her chin—and somehow didn’t take her hand off my arm. I wasn’t about to remind her. “It’s not nonsense. I’m hurt. Really hurt. And he made me lie for him.”

  “Did he threaten to throw you in jail on a made-up charge?”

  “No. But he knows I can’t say no to him.”

  “I don’t know that,” I interjected.

  Both women ignored me. I was almost relieved.

  “Why didn’t you want to bring her to New York?” Bonnie asked me, her tone brooking no debate.

  I was going to answer this question. Inappropriateness be damned.

  “It was an official conference,” I began and then released a long breath as I held Bonnie’s gaze. “I didn’t want something to happen.”

  “Like what? That I’d be kidnapped and held for ransom for my pecan pie recipe?”

  I frowned. “You didn’t bring it. I saw you drop some bag in the hall, and that pie weighs a ton. You always use that red covered dish.”

  “Not today,” Gina said smugly, and finally, she snatched back her hand. “I didn’t make the pie.”

  This was the final straw. “How could you?”

  “Maybe I’m sick of pecans. Maybe I don’t even like pecans anymore. Maybe I decided I liked crustless pumpkin pudding crap better than I ever liked pecans.” Gina gave me a fierce grin, her dark eyes blazing. “How about that?”

  Bonnie heaved out a sigh. “In my day, I’ve seen a lot. I’ve counseled couples on the verge of divorce. I even helped Gina’s Aunt Vera make up with her estranged son. You two are beyond my scope. Figure it out yourselves. But don’t come out of this room until you’ve resolved…things.”

  She gave us a meaningful stare that had prickly heat climbing up my neck and along my scalp. Either I was being eaten alive by a sudden infestation of fire ants or she was suggesting something highly shocking.

  That did not mean I wasn’t on board with it, however.

  “Did she mean…” Gina whispered as soon as Bonnie pulled shut the double doors to the dining room with a decisive click.

  “She can’t have. It’s Thanksgiving.”

  Gina smirked. “People do have sex on Thanksgiving. Don’t get out much, huh, Brooks?”

  “I know that.” I gestured wildly in the hopes of the breeze killing the flames eating my head. “I just mean it’s almost time to eat, and all your family is here.”

  “And yours,” she reminded me.

  “I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath and then another until the cramp in my ribs eased. It was hard to look at her. All I kept doing was screwing this up. “I did this all wrong.”

  “Yes,” she agreed simply. “You did.”

  “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. My first mistake was not taking you to New York. Maybe we would’ve had sex. Maybe Samantha would’ve been yours.”

  The shock on her face didn’t make me stop. I was fairly certain nothing could do that now.

  “That’s what I was afraid of, you gorgeous idiot. I was trying to protect your virtue from me. I could shove down any stray thoughts about you in short-shorts when we were here, surrounded by our friends and families and work and all the reasons we couldn’t be together for real, but alone in a hotel room in New York, when I didn’t have to think about your mom thinking I’d deflowered you—”

  Her stunned expression melted into laughter. “Dude, she knows my petals were on the ground years ago.” She grabbed my tie, yanking me to her. “I’m making the first move. Since apparently you need a fucking push.”

  She
arched up on her tiptoes and I grabbed her hips, hitching her up as if we’d always done this exact move. Our puzzle pieces locked together an instant before her mouth collided with mine.

  I slid my tongue against the seam of her lips, and she parted for me as if she’d always been waiting for this exact moment.

  Maybe she had. Just like me.

  I was a damn fool in a hundred ways. But I could make up for it.

  She squeezed me with her strong as hell legs and rose against me, daring me to keep up as we went at each other. I sucked her lower lip between my teeth, and she made a strangled sound I’d replay for the rest of my life.

  “That. Again.”

  I anchored her with a hand splayed over her ass as we kissed, and she made that noise again, probably because there was no mistaking I was ready to take this further. As far as it could go.

  Next to the damn golden turkey under its dome on the table was not out of the question.

  “Not here,” she panted before her sharp teeth nipped my tongue. My cock jumped against my zipper, and she laughed throatily, all dangerous eyes and wet, used lips. “You didn’t disappoint me, Sheriff.”

  To hell with it.

  I turned her toward the table and set her down on the edge, managing to only knock over one glass of water. Casualty of war. I shoved aside her waterfall of gingerbread-scented hair and nuzzled her neck, so overwhelmed with her scents and tastes I couldn’t decide what to explore first.

  Oh, yeah, I knew.

  I filled my hands with her breasts as I ran my nose along her jawline. “Perfect fucking handful. I always knew. I want to suck your nipples nice and slow before I move down to—”

  “Oh, shit.” She hopped down from the table so fast I blinked. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

  “What?” My head was literally spinning. I was pretty sure I tasted blood. “Why?”

  She gave an unsteady laugh. “Why do people usually go to the john?” Sensuously, she stroked my tie. “Can we continue this later?”

  I glanced down at the obvious bulge in my pants. “Do you expect me to eat like this? I’ll knock everything off the damn table if I breathe.”