One Baby Daddy

  She blinks once. Twice. Opens her mouth and—

  “Hayden?” I turn my head to see Adalyn walking down the hallway with another female nurse, holding a brown lunch bag to her chest.

  “Adalyn.” I heave a sigh of relief.

  Maybe too much relief because her brow creases as she comes up to me, telling her coworker she’ll catch up with her later. “Are you okay?”

  “He has a splinter,” the receptionist deadpans, going back to her crossword puzzle.

  “A splinter?” Adalyn’s nose scrunches up. “You came to the hospital because you have a splinter?”

  “No.” I grumble. “I came to . . .” The receptionist pulls her attention away from her crossword and stares down our little conversation, leaning in. “You’re being fucking nosey, don’t you think?” My temper is starting to get the best of me.

  “You’re standing in front of my desk, therefore I’m allowed to listen to anything you’re saying.”

  She has a point.

  Stepping to the side and bringing Adalyn with me, I put space between the snarky receptionist and us.

  “Where’s your splinter?”

  “I don’t have a splinter. I just said that to . . . to . . . hell.” I pull on the back of my neck. “I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Then why are you here? Do you need help finding someone?”

  “Well, I did need help finding someone, but I found her.” Smile, keep eye contact, make her see how interested you are.

  “Are you being corny and implying I’m the one you wanted to find?”

  “Are you being lippy when I came all the way out here to bring you . . .” Fuck, I didn’t bring her anything. I reach into my pocket, rooting around and pull out my ChapStick. “To bring you this ChapStick. Jesus, how fucking rude.”

  Eyes focused on the ChapStick and then back to mine. “You brought me ChapStick? Is that because you think I need it? Do you think I need ChapStick that bad that you came all the way to my place of work to give me some? Are my lips really so horrible to look at that not another minute could go by without bringing me some lubrication?”

  I hold back the smile that wants to beam brightly. “Did I say ChapStick?” I shake my head and reach into my back pocket. I pull out my wallet, shuffle through it and grab the only piece of cash I have.

  A one-dollar bill.

  Perfect.

  That was sarcasm in case you didn’t get it.

  “A dollar? You brought me a dollar?”

  I’ve dug my grave, might as well lie in it. “Yup.” I hand it to her. “Go crazy.”

  She presses the dollar between her fingers, not buying it, but still playing along. “You’re so kind. I don’t think anyone has ever come to my place of work just to give me a dollar.”

  “Sweet, right?” I rock on my heels, hands in my pockets now.

  She chuckles and shakes her head. “The absolute sweetest.”

  “Does that mean if I ask you out on a date, you’re more likely to say yes now rather than no . . . thanks to the dollar?”

  Okay, not the best way to pick up a girl, bribing her with a one-dollar bill and used ChapStick, but I’m a little out of touch here. Hockey has consumed me for as long as I can remember, not granting me much time to date. I’m slightly rusty, a little awkward, and a whole lot of nervous.

  “You want to take me out on a date?”

  I nod. “Would love to.”

  “And if I say no, do I have to give the dollar back?” The smallest of smiles tugs at the corner of her lips.

  “The dollar is yours regardless. Consider it a friendship dollar. Whatever happens between us, that dollar is yours to do with whatever you want.”

  “Wow.” She brings the dollar close to her chest. “The world is my oyster, think of all the possibilities.”

  Fuck, she’s funny.

  “So, is that a yes?”

  She tilts her head to the side, the ponytail swaying with her movement, the long strands like a wave of chocolate behind her.

  “Did you tell Racer you were doing this?”

  “No,” I answer immediately.

  “He has no clue you came searching for me, harassed a receptionist, and offered me a one-dollar bill?”

  “Nope.” I shake my head, my lips pressed into a thin line. “If I told him, I would have asked for your last name and the hospital you worked at so I didn’t wander around different hospitals looking for a girl named Adalyn with brown hair and killer legs.”

  “Ooo, killer legs, I like that.” She winks at me and stuffs the dollar in her bra strap. “Let’s say I were to say yes, what would your date entail?”

  Eh, fuck, I haven’t thought that far ahead.

  “It’s a surprise,” I answer, feeling smooth.

  She shakes her head knowingly. “You have no clue what we would do for a date.”

  Chuckling, I go for honesty. “Got me there, but I promise it’ll be worth it.”

  Twisting her lips to the side, heavy in thought, she clutches her lunch bag and says, “Racer can’t know.”

  Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

  “You don’t want Racer to know?”

  She shakes her head. “No, he’ll make a big deal out of nothing, and I’d rather not deal with that. Are you good with keeping this from him?”

  Am I? Not really, he’s a good friend. But then again, we don’t necessary tell each other everything.

  But he did tell me to stay away.

  But . . . killer legs.

  I think the choice is obvious.

  “Yeah, I can keep this between us.”

  “Excellent. Hand me your phone, I’ll plug in my number. You’re in for one hell of a ride, Hayden.”

  I can’t fucking wait.

  Hayden: How was the rest of your day at work?

  I twiddle my thumbs on the couch, looking around the cottage, unsure of what to do with my time. Normally, I’m working out, or doing drills, or preparing for a game, or squeezing in a few more reps in the weight room. So this free time is throwing me for a loop.

  And Mr. Lockwood doesn’t believe in the Internet or television besides a collection of mafia movies on VHS, which are stored under his small tube TV.

  But there is a variety of playing cards in a drawer along with Boggle, Scrabble, Sudoku, and colorful puzzles. I started one of the puzzles last night, and it’s already kicking my ass. I thought the landscape I picked out was going to be easy, but boy, was I wrong. A one-thousand-piece puzzle is no joke. I barely have the border done. But that’s also because I can’t find two edge pieces, and it’s driving me crazy.

  So I put the puzzle on hold and started playing Scrabble, player of one.

  Let me tell you, I’m really good at playing myself. HAY-den is really smart with his moves, and Hay-DEN is a free-balling kind of player, goes with the flow, no thought in his moves whatsoever.

  Can you guess which Hayden won?

  But I can’t complain about the peace I’ve been granted staying in the cottage. It’s been comfortable, stress free, besides the constant phone calls from my publicist. I finally told him to email me everything or else I’d let him go because the constant badgering was getting on my nerves.

  My phone beeps, drawing my attention away from the rustic-looking ceiling.

  Adalyn: Ugh, not the best end to the day. We had a thirty-year-old patient come in off the ambulance, suffered a massive heart attack, and we couldn’t do anything to help him. His wife was still crying in the waiting room when I clocked out for the day.

  Fuck, that’s hard. I couldn’t imagine having to watch such life changing moments every day. I don’t think I’m strong enough.

  Hayden: Shit, I’m sorry, Adalyn. That had to be really difficult to witness.

  Adalyn: It was. I’m actually sitting in my car in the parking lot of the hospital, taking a few moments to compose myself.

  I sit up and rest my arms on my legs, my phone propped in front of me.

  Hayden: Can I help you
take your mind off your shitty day?

  Adalyn: What did you have in mind?

  Hayden: Do you know where Roundtop Picnic area is?

  Adalyn: I can look it up.

  Hayden: Meet me at the Sunset Pavilion in half an hour.

  Adalyn: Do I need to bring anything?

  Hayden: Just your pretty self. I have everything else covered.

  Adalyn: See you in thirty then.

  Hopping from the couch, I pocket my phone and head to the bathroom. She said yes. A guy’s got to make sure he looks good . . . As much as I was lying to myself that I only want to talk to her, I get the sense that she needs this type of downtime. And I want that . . . with her. She’s witty and sarcastic, but I’m thinking also very real. That’s what’s been missing for me at times. The lack of filter. I want real conversation . . . like Calder and Rachel have.

  I pull into an almost empty parking lot besides one vehicle. When I look into the driver’s side, I spot Adalyn, fingers curling around her ponytail, staring off into the distance. The movement from my end draws her attention and when she recognizes me, a soft smile plays at her lips. I nod toward the grass in front of us and start to get out of my car while she does the same.

  I pull out a box, a bag of drinks and utensils, and a blanket.

  “Do you need help?” Adalyn asks, walking to my open trunk.

  “I think I got it, can you shut the trunk for me?”

  “Of course.” She goes to grab the hatch when I stop her and nod at the button on the side.

  “Just press the button.”

  She eyes it and sticks her pinky in the air. “Oh fancy.”

  Laughing, I say, “It’s about the only fancy thing I have in my life, so don’t go thinking I’m a snob or anything.”

  Eyeing me, she says, “Nice watch.”

  Okay, I might have a fancy watch too, but I didn’t buy it.

  “It’s from my team. They gave it to me for my birthday because the one I was wearing was apparently so abhorrent for everyone to look at, especially during press conferences. Makes me think, maybe I should start wearing shitty-looking suits and shoes to score some new apparel as well.”

  She taps her head. “You would be missing out on an opportunity if you didn’t.”

  We head toward the grass and Adalyn takes the blanket from under my arm to lay it out over the little field of green. The sun begins to set and the temperature starts to drop, so thankfully I prepared for the occasion. Jogging back to my Porsche, I open the door behind the driver’s seat and grab two sweatshirts and another blanket.

  I’ve lived in New York for most of my life, so I know what it’s like in June when the sun sets around eight thirty. It gets chilly, and I don’t want to have to cut our night short because the temperature drops. We have at least an hour before total darkness, and even then there are little streetlights surrounding the area.

  “Here.” I hand her one of my Philadelphia Brawlers sweatshirts. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

  Hesitantly she takes the sweatshirt. “Thank you, that was sweet to think of me.”

  “Didn’t think it would be cool to wear a sweatshirt while you’re over there freezing.” I lift the hoodie over my head and situate it around my waist before sitting next to her and draping the spare blanket over both our legs. Thankfully it’s a smaller blanket so I have to scoot closer to her.

  “Mmm, your sweatshirt smells good.”

  Okay, maybe I sprayed a little cologne on it before I left the cottage, but we can keep that between us.

  “I hope you like cake.” I bring the box to our laps and flip it open, revealing an entire sheet cake. Chocolate and vanilla marble cake with buttercream fudge frosting. Goddamn, my mouth is watering. I haven’t had anything like this in a really long time. My nutritionist doesn’t allow it for obvious reasons.

  “Oh my God. Does that say . . . Hayden is hot?” Adalyn looks closer at the cake.

  Pulling out forks, I hand her one. “They asked if I wanted anything written on it, so I figured why not?”

  “And you went with Hayden is hot?”

  “Just to make sure you were aware.”

  Shakes her head, a smile beautifully spread across her face. “I’m well aware. Thanks for the reminder though.”

  “Anytime. Dig in.”

  “No plates?”

  “Nah, don’t need them.” I fork a giant piece of cake and shove it in my mouth, icing spread across my mouth. I chew, letting the sugar soak in and then swallow. So fucking good. I groan and go for another bite while Adalyn just stares at me. “Do you not like cake?”

  “I do, it’s just . . . fascinating watching you eat. It’s like you’ve been starved for months.”

  “Starved of sugar. During playoffs, mainly, we’re on a strict diet, which means no sugar.”

  “Seriously?” She takes a bite and closes her eyes for a brief second, truly tasting the cake. Wegman’s makes the best sheet cakes. “How could you live without sugar?”

  “It’s hard, especially since I have an addiction to caramel and cheddar popcorn.”

  “Gah!” Adalyn turns toward me, completely serious. “Garrett’s popcorn!”

  My eyes widen in shock. “You’ve tried it?”

  “Uh yeah. Whenever I go to New York City, I always stop by their little shop and grab the biggest tin they have. It’s my favorite. My brothers think it’s too greasy, but weirdly enough, I feel a sense of pride after eating ten handfuls having cheese-and-caramel-covered fingers. It’s like I truly accomplished something.”

  “Do you lick your fingers?”

  “Of course. That’s the best part. It’s like experiencing the delight for a second go around.”

  I hold my heart. “Holy shit, a girl after my own heart.”

  Growing more intense, she shifts, takes another bite of the cake, and says, “Have you tried Wegman’s version?”

  “No. Smartfood has a decent version, but it doesn’t come close to Garrett’s.”

  “Yeah, it’s okay, but honestly, it’s trash compared to the real deal. You should try Wegman’s. It’s a good knockoff. Not entirely as cheesy as one would hope, but it does the job when you’re craving.”

  I reach into the bag of drinks and pull out two waters, handing one to Adalyn. Her fingers graze over mine when she takes the bottle from me, and for a split second, I feel a pulse of electricity bounce between us.

  “This was really nice of you and the view is amazing. Who knew cake and a sunset would wash away my worries for the day?”

  “So you’re telling me I’m impressing you.”

  Forking a piece of cake in her mouth, she says, “You would have truly impressed me if this cake was red velvet and that water was a cold glass of milk.”

  “Milk?” I raise my eyebrows.

  “Oh yeah. I love milk. And it has to be plain milk, none of this chocolate or strawberry stuff. Give me the real deal.”

  Hell, I can’t stop the smile that sneaks out. “I don’t think I’ve met an adult who loves milk.”

  She winks. “Does the body good, you know?” She motions up and down from her toes to her head. “You can’t tell since I’m all covered up, but milk has treated me very well over my twenty-three years. And these bones?” She knocks on her forearm with her knuckles. “Stronger than steel. There will be no osteoporosis in this body.”

  Knowing what she looks like in shorts and a tight T-shirt, I say, “Milk has treated you well.”

  Forks in the cake, hands posed for our next bite, we stare at each other, my deep brown eyes to her lighter whiskey-colored ones, my smirk to her grin. Orange and pink hues paint the sky as the sun sets, casting a radiant glow over us.

  Adalyn is the first to break the silence when she says, “From the looks of it, it would seem you’re an average milk drinker yourself.”

  “It’s the bulging biceps, isn’t it?”

  With the hand that’s not holding her fork, she squeezes one of my arms. Like a total douche, I flex just in
time, giving her rock-hard contact.

  “Oh, those are bulging, aren’t they? Impressive, Holmes.”

  “What about you, do you have any muscles under your scrubs?”

  Lifting her arm, she makes a flexing motion and squints, as if she’s really trying to flex her muscles. “Give it a squeeze, but be careful, I’m very muscular.”

  I pinch her cute little arm with my index finger and thumb, my giant sweatshirt adding a layer of cushion. Just to tease her some more, I pull my hand away and shake it. “Damn, Adalyn. You’re a female version of the Hulk.”

  She dusts off her shoulder. “It’s all the IV bags I lift on a daily basis. Patients need their fluid, and thankfully everyone involved benefits from it.”

  I chuckle. “IV bags, huh? That’s all it takes? What the hell am I doing in the gym then?”

  “Who knows, come work with me for a day, you’ll get a workout.” She places a piece of cake in her mouth and slowly removes the fork, her lips smoothing across the metal tines. Full and plump, decorated in buttercream frosting. Her pink tongue peeks out, licking the tip of her lips, her eyes closed briefly before they open and make contact with mine. Stunned, she shyly smiles and turns her head back to the box of cake as I clear my throat, embarrassed I was caught staring.

  “So you said you have brothers?”

  She nods. “Seven of them and one sister.”

  Seven?

  Holy shit, that’s a lot of testosterone in one household. Her poor mother. Two daughters. Two against seven. Shit.

  “Seven brothers? How was that?”

  “It had its ups and downs. No one messed with me but no one wanted to date me either. I ended up going to my senior prom with my brother, Shane, which can we say was absolutely humiliating, especially when my mom was gushing to take pictures.” She sighs. “But they made it special for me. All of them pitched in, got me a beautiful gown, my hair and makeup done professionally, and they all picked out a corsage for me to wear. It was as magical as taking your brother to prom could be.”