One Baby Daddy

  “Just you wait and see.” Sighing heavily, she leans her head back against the bench and really puts some thought into her answer.

  Next to her, Calder sways back and forth to the Irish music lightly playing in the background, occasionally biting down heavily on his bottom lip and drunkenly tapping on the table along with the beat. Drunk looks “good” on him.

  “If I have to answer, which this isn’t fair, because you know I love all of my men . . .” She presses her hand over her eyes, and swears under her breath. “Marry Jon, chuck Daario, and fuck that monster cock of a man Khal.” Leaning forward, growing even more serious, she adds, “And for the record, I would teach that man how to not only please a woman, but how to make him come so hard, his eyes pop out of their sockets.”

  “She knows how to fuck, man.” Calder falls into Rachel and places sloppy kisses all over her face, which she doesn’t seem to mind, given how her mouth opens and her tongue starts prying Calder’s mouth open.

  Moving in close to me, Adalyn loudly whispers, “They sure know how to kiss and make noise when they do it, don’t they? Top-notch noise level. Do you think we sound like that when we kiss?”

  I shake my head. “Nah, we’re classy, baby.” I press a quick kiss across her nose and then throw a wadded-up napkin to break up the make-out session.

  “Come on, I shouldn’t have to tell you to keep your lips to yourself every goddamn second. We’re playing a game.”

  Pushing Calder away, Rachel says, “He’s right.” She wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her shirt, all class flying out the window long ago. “I have an important question to ask.” I don’t like that look in her eye. Fixing on Adalyn, she taps the table in front of her to gather her attention and says, “Adalyn, fuck, chuck, and marry.” Smiling devilishly at me, eyes locked, she says, “Hayden, Holden, and Halsey.” She finishes her sentence with a giant smile and folded hands on the table.

  Touché.

  Tou-fucking-ché.

  “You bitch.”

  Rachel throws her head back and laughs. She’s so happy with herself, pleased as punch, and I have to hand it to her. She has all the right to be because that is a killer question.

  Head tilted to the side, Adalyn asks, “You want me to compare Hayden with his brothers?”

  Rachel nods her head.

  “Well . . . that’s easy.” Turning toward me, Adalyn boops my nose with her little finger and says, “Fuck Holden, marry Halsey, and chuck Hayden. I like my men young.”

  From the other side of the table, Calder and Rachel erupt in laughter, holding on to their stomachs, wiping tears from their eyes kind of laughter. Adalyn giggles along with them, keeping her eyes on mine, a sparkle deep within her dark irises.

  “You’re in fucking trouble now,” I whisper to her, leaning into her ear.

  “Good, it’s about time you punish me.”

  Shaking my head, my scruff brushing against her smooth skin, I say, “Nah, you won’t be punished the way you’re thinking. Looks like I just took another oath of celibacy.”

  Rolling her eyes, Adalyn groans and leans back against the booth, melting into the seat. “God, of course you did. You sadistic bastard.”

  “You’re going to take care of my boy, right?” Calder asks, holding on to Rachel to steady his heavily swaying body.

  Cuddled up to me, like she has been the entire night—well, almost the entire night—Adalyn nods her head and pats my chest. “Consider this guy in good hands.”

  “That’s what I like to hear. He’s a sensitive one, you know. Not a playboy. Takes his relationships seriously.”

  “One of his best qualities along with how sweet he is.”

  “And hot,” I add. “Don’t forget to mention how hot I am.”

  “And modest.” Adalyn winks.

  “You’re good for him.” Rachel presses her finger to Adalyn’s forehead. “I approve.”

  “Me too.” Calder steps up and copies Rachel, pressing his finger to Adalyn’s head, who then proceeds to bow to both of them afterward.

  Talk about a bunch of drunk assholes.

  After bowing, Adalyn presses her finger to Rachel and Calder’s foreheads and says, “And I approve of you two as friends of Hayden’s.”

  Clutching his chest like a dickhead, Calder let’s out a long breath. “Thank fuck, I was nervous she wasn’t going to like us.”

  “Not like you?” Adalyn tsks. “How could I not like you? First impressions are everything, and the fact that I was greeted by boners and bras . . . that is better than a butterscotch candy from the Queen herself.”

  “That old bird.” Rachel looks up to the sky. “God, I like her. Do you think she wears a bra to bed?”

  “Totally.” Adalyn nods her head. “She’s got those puppies on lockdown twenty-four/seven.”

  “Like the family jewels.”

  “And she doesn’t let people take pictures of them just like the family jewels.”

  “Ugh, you’re so right.” Rachel shakes her head. “What a shame, the money she could make on selling those photos.”

  “Damn shame,” Calder states and looks at his watch. “Shit, it’s late. Hayden has a photo shoot tomorrow morning. Dude, you’re going to be bloated from all the beer.”

  Yes. Yes, I am. James is going to be thrilled.

  “Does it matter?” Adalyn asks.

  Rachel cuts in, leaning toward Adalyn, gripping her forearm. “Adalyn, it matters big time. Have you not seen one of Hayden’s underwear ads?”

  “Underwear ads?” Adalyn pulls back, shocked. “Tomorrow you’re going to shoot an underwear ad?”

  “Uh, yeah, is that a problem?” I rub the back of my neck.

  Studying me, giving me several once -overs, she crosses her arms over her chest and says, “Not a problem at all, as long as you know I will most likely be horny the entire time they’re shooting you.”

  “Horny I can handle, jealous I can deal with . . . but mad?” I shake my head. “I don’t want you mad.”

  “Why on earth would I be mad? Hell, I’ll be popping the bubbly, celebrating the fact that everyone in that room is going to be wishing they were in my shoes.” Standing on her toes, she presses a deep kiss across my lips, the flavor of tequila infused on her lips.

  “Oh that was smooth.” Rachel slow claps. “Well done, Adalyn, well done. She’s a keeper, Hayden, so don’t fuck it up.”

  “I don’t plan on it.”

  No way will I fuck this up.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ADALYN

  “Ughhhhh, I’m dying,” I moan when I open the door to the bathroom.

  The shower didn’t help. Brushing my teeth didn’t help, and the four Ibuprofens I took with a full glass of water when I woke up are not helping.

  “I’m sorry, baby. You can seriously stay here. I’ll order you some greasy room service, and you can sleep some more while I’m at my photo shoot.”

  Unlike me, Hayden is bouncing back from last night as if he had half a tablespoon of alcohol, got a full ten hours of sleep, and happened to have time to wear a homemade mud mask at the same time.

  None of that is the truth.

  In fact, we got back to the hotel at two in the morning, dragged our bodies into our room, and passed out. Hayden woke up at five, went for a run, did some kind of crazy workout routine, took a shower, and is now handsome as ever with his unfazed skin, eight-pack abs, and minty-fresh breath.

  Meanwhile, I’m over here looking like I’ve been dragged behind a subway car for five stops and then picked apart by sewer rats . . . and this is after a shower.

  How can he possibly look at me and think, oh yes, this woman, this woman right here is who I want to take to my photo shoot?

  He’s insane.

  He’s crazy.

  He’s infatuated with me.

  And it’s the only reason I’m currently slipping on my white Keds and linking my fingers with his. “Take me to the photo shoot. I want to see you in underwear.”

  Chuc
kling, he says, “I can show you what I look like in underwear in private.”

  I wave him off. “It won’t be the same. You’ll be under all those lights, oiled up, and posey. I can’t miss that. Plus, what if you need a fluffer? I’m not going to let any other lady touch your penis.”

  We’re halfway to the door when he stops his pursuit. “Uh, what are you talking about? There are no penis shots.”

  “No? So this is like a David Beckham-type underwear ad?”

  “Yeah.” He chuckles. “What were you thinking it was? Because from the sounds of it, you were thinking this was X-rated.”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Hey, I don’t know what you do to make a buck. I’m not judgey here, I just don’t want other women touching your penis.”

  “Well, you have nothing to worry about. There will be no touching of my penis by anyone else but you.”

  We take the elevator to the main lobby where there is a car waiting for us by the curb.

  “Funny you say I’m the only one who will be touching your penis, especially since I have yet to fully wrap my fingers around it.”

  “Maybe you should try harder.” He holds the door to the car open for me, a giant small on his face.

  “Try harder?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, okay. Be careful what you wish for there, Holmes. I’m feisty, and you just tested me.”

  “You must be Adalyn.” A suave-looking man in a tailored suit walks up to me. Slicked-back hair, freshly shaven face, and a powerful cologne advertising the man has made money.

  My guess, he’s made money off athletes like Hayden.

  A Jerry McGuire-type, but a little more . . . sleazy-looking.

  “And you must be James, the publicist.” I lend out my hand and he takes it, placing a kiss across my knuckles.

  Okay, not Jerry McGuire, more Philip Stuckey from Pretty Woman, but with a full head of hair.

  “Hayden must have told you about me. I hope it was all kind.”

  Taking my hand back, trying not to wipe my knuckles on my shirt to rid of the feeling of his lips on my skin, I shrug. “Could have been kind, could have been irritated. Something about asking him if he’s bloated?”

  James grips his tie, shuffling it back and forth on his neck. “Got to make sure my boys are in top form. During the off-season, some of them let themselves go and forget about the photo shoots we have lined up.”

  “Well, nothing to worry here, as Hayden is in top form.” I wink and scan the room, looking for the man of the hour. He’s been in “hair and makeup” for what seems like an hour. What could they possibly be doing to primp him?

  “They’re spray-tanning him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Hmm, I don’t like that this dude can read my mind. It ups the level of his skeeze factor.

  “Spray tan, huh, I guess that makes sense. He is a bit on the paler side, still hot though.” Looking James up and down, I ask, “Have you seen his eight-pack? Yummy, right?”

  His brow pulls together. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say yummy, but yes, the man has a nice stomach.”

  “Not just stomach, James. Abs, the man has abs.” I pat his arm.

  “Yes.” He drags out the word, looking me up and down. He’s suspicious. I can see the assessment he’s making of me, the first judgment.

  And I’m not looking my best, that’s for damn sure. I’ve seen better days. Pretty sure I still have a little bit of mascara residue under my eyes from last night. My wet hair is in the midst of air-drying, and I’m dressed in jeans and one of Hayden’s T-shirts. The only thing holding me together right now is the Egg McMuffin we had on the way here and the venti coffee gripped in my hand.

  “Can I ask you something?” James asks, sticking his hands in his suit pants pockets, his shoulder tilted in my direction, as if we’re about to share a special conversation.

  I take a sip of my coffee and look over the lid. “I would be surprised if you didn’t.”

  Blunt. It’s the only way to deal with this kind of men.

  The kind of men who think they’re doing the right thing by looking out for “their guys” when in fact, they’re ready to blow everything up. I’m not stupid. I know what this man’s end game is. He only makes money if his boys are performing well, if he’s able to portray them as perfect specimens. So why would he want Hayden to have a “distraction” in his life. To publicists and agents, a girlfriend is a distraction.

  And I have a feeling he’s about to tell me that.

  “How long have you known Hayden?”

  “A little over a month. We met through a mutual friend.”

  He nods. “And it’s going well between you two?”

  “I’d say it is.”

  “And what is it that you do?”

  “I’m a nurse at a hospital in Binghamton.” Another sip of coffee. “Tell me, James, what exactly is your burning question? Are you trying to scope out information from me so you have dirt for the media? Are you thinking of every which way you can spin our situation so you can make me look bad and make Hayden look like a hero, in case things go sour?”

  Silence falls between us as James chews on the side of his cheek, his eyes searching mine, calculating his next move.

  Plastering on a fake smile, he says, “I would never dream of doing such a thing. I only want to get to know you.”

  “Well I have no desire to get to know you.” I take down another gulp of hot liquid. “I know why you’re really here, okay? I’m not a vapid airhead; Hayden has the whole package. He is not only extremely talented on the ice, but he’s a kind human being, overtly attractive, and has a heart of gold. He’s exactly what every publicist dreams of. So your number-one priority is to make sure no one messes with your perfect package. I get it.” I lean forward, drawing him closer. “But I’m going to tell you right now, I’m not here to bring Hayden down. I’m here to lift him up, and I suggest you do the same instead of trying to dig for dirt from a girl who plans on sticking around for a very long time.” I pat his cheek, putting an end to our conversation just as Hayden walks up, looking drop-dead sexy in a pair of white boxer briefs.

  He places a kiss on the side of my head and looks to James. “Everything okay over here?”

  “Oh yes,” I answer. “James was asking if he could get me anything for my hangover. Sweet guy, this one.” I thumb toward James who purses his lips.

  Not buying it, Hayden eyes James, but before he says anything, he’s called on set. “Got to go.” Dipping his head down, he clasps my chin and gives me a slow, sweet kiss before taking off toward a well-lit set, draped in deep blue fabric. With his tan skin, white briefs, and popping muscles, he’s looking so damn delicious.

  I can’t wait for the show.

  James steps forward, close enough so only I can hear him. “I’ve seen it before, a woman takes down a man of Hayden’s caliber. I’ve seen them lose everything, and I don’t want that for Hayden. I only want what’s best for him.”

  I nod and stand from my chair, wanting to move it closer. Before I excuse myself from the conversation, I look at James and give him a sweet smile. “Thank you, James. I really appreciate your concern for Hayden. But I’m going to tell you this once and only once . . .” I pause and pat his chest. “You can fuck off.”

  Test shots flash, people mill about adjusting lights and the backdrop, PAs stand around with headphones, waiting for their next request while Hayden does pushups on the floor, vigorously working up a sweat.

  Me, I sit back in my chair, legs crossed, coffee halfway to my mouth while staring at my boyfriend.

  When did shoulder blades become so sexy?

  Because Lord Jesus, Hayden has a set of shoulder blades that will tickle any women’s fancy. With every drop to the ground, they form into peaks, surrounded by bulge after bulge of muscle. From his traps, to his shoulders, to his biceps, sinew flows effortlessly, ripples with precision.

  Up and down.

  Up and down.

  I’m transfixed, unable to move,
unable to pull my eyes away.

  “You about ready?” the photographer, Hildi, asks.

  “Yeah, ten more,” Hayden calls out, his voice strained.

  Pumping up and down, he shows no struggle in his last ten pushups. His large hands spread over the ground, his forearms working overtime, his head tilted down, giving me the perfect view of his tight, round ass in his white briefs.

  Oh heavens.

  That ass.

  What was he thinking bringing me to this photo shoot? Was this another way for him to torture me?

  Because it’s working.

  Hopping to his feet, Hayden rubs his hands together, dusting them off, his chest popping, his abs flexing, his body looking better than ever with a light splattering of hair across his thick, barrel-like chest.

  A low thrum starts to form between my legs.

  My veins are tingling with awareness.

  I’m turned on.

  From pushups.

  And I want more. I’ve become a harlot for pushups. Why am I not filming this? Because then I can watch pushups on replay for hours on end.

  I make a mental note to ask Hayden to perform more pushups for me later.

  Hayden is put into place, music booms over speakers, and like a seasoned professional, he starts posing for the camera, making little adjustments with his arms and hands.

  Grabbing on the back of his neck, head tilted up.

  One hand behind his back, abs flexed, pecs full, nipples hard.

  Smiling, hand over face as if he’s the shyest, yet hottest man on earth.

  Both hands pulling on the edge of his underwear, biting on his lip . . .

  Oh fuck, that one right there, that’s the shot.

  The set around me stills, women motionless as Hayden moves effortlessly, listening to Hildi’s direction, occasionally peeking over to me, that boyish smile made only for me appearing.

  I prop my chin on my hand and lean forward, eyes traveling from his powerful shoulders to the well-defined divots in his stomach, to the V that leads straight to his bulge.

  Ugh, and that bulge. It looks so . . . heavy, so full, so fucking hot, all I want to do is run up to him, pull his underwear down and start sucking him off.