Claim My Baby (Dirty DILFs Book 2) Read online

  But I was not a manwhore, despite what some might think. I was far more discriminating than many gave me credit for.

  “Being wise isn’t the same as being suspicious. For that matter, a man can enjoy dinner and drinks with a woman without engaging in pleasures of the flesh. Frankly, it disturbs me that everything becomes about sex with you women.”

  “Us women? Which women are you referring to, may I ask? And everything is not about sex with me right now. I can verify that it’s been exactly three weeks and—”

  “Enough.” I held up a hand. “If you want your strawberry shake to dunk your French fries in—disgusting, by the way—you’ll cease that line of conversation.”

  “Then what women do you mean?” I could hear her grin in her voice. “I saw Jean and Stacy go into the break room after you. Did Jean give you a hard time again?” Ally examined her manicure. “We know Stacy wouldn’t have. I bet you left her mute.”

  I didn’t respond. Somehow, I had a feeling it didn’t matter what I said in my own defense. The scarlet M had been affixed to my chest in indelible ink.

  “Or was it Sage who ruffled your feathers?” Ally continued, drumming her fingers on the door. “She was pretty PO’d because of the coffee spill and Greta. I wouldn’t take it personally.”

  “When do I ever take her scurrilous personality personally?” I signaled to turn into the McDonalds, smothering a sigh at the half dozen cars ahead of us in line.

  Didn’t anyone ever eat at home anymore?

  “She’s going on that trip this weekend. To Vegas. I’m sure you heard about it. She’s been talking about it since—”

  “Halloween,” I interjected sourly. “Yes, I’ve heard about it. The trip where she hopes to get possibly kidnapped and sold into the sex trade by unscrupulous individuals.”

  Ally gasped. “You did not just say that. A woman is entitled to go have a good time.”

  “I didn’t say she wasn’t. But it can be dangerous for a naive young woman to travel alone, especially when she’s made it quite clear she’s leaving her inhibitions at home. Not everyone is worthy of trust, and I’m just concerned she may not make the best choices if the men she meets aren’t upfront with her.” I shrugged and tapped the gas to move forward half an inch. “Not my problem.”

  “I knew it.” Ally snapped her fingers. “I could tell you were concerned.”

  “As I would be for anyone in such a situation.”

  “Right. If Seth said he was going to Vegas to find a hookup, you’d surely get your boxers in a bunch.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Seth is married, so I would get a good lawyer on speed dial for him.” I smirked. “But no, I wouldn’t get my ‘boxers in a bunch’ because he’s a man of the world and—”

  “Cut the crap. It’s because he’s a man. Full stop.”

  “He’s not Sage.” I hit the gas again and stomped harder than was necessary on the brake. “Double cheeseburger, you said?”

  “Why does that make a difference?”

  I tapped my fingers on the wheel and prayed for patience. “Large fries, was it? With a large shake?”

  “Oliver, seriously. Do you think she’s going to get in trouble or something?” Ally bit her lip. “I’ve never been to Vegas. Is it that bad?”

  I was tempted to regale her with statistics that would make her ponytail spin, but she was pregnant. On the verge of popping, no less. She did not need undue stress or speculation.

  “It’s a large urban city, with everything that goes along with it. But most likely, everything will be fine.”

  “She’s never even traveled out of New York.” Ally fiddled with her wedding ring. “Not even for college. She went to a SUNY school, so she could be nearby to come home to work at The Hummingbird’s Nest whenever her parents needed her. Breaks, summer vacation, stuff like that. She found out they were selling the place while she was home for a break and put her degree on hold, purportedly so she could help with the sale. But that was the end of that.”

  That fit Sage all too well. Even though I didn’t know that much about her, it was obvious she was a people pleaser.

  Just not an Oliver pleaser, since clearly, I was a threat to the happy domestication impulses of every woman in town. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day I walked into the diner to see a photo of myself with a slash through it and the words “just say no” plastered over my face.

  “She never went back?” I gave the gas a light tap and we surged forward another couple of inches. We might be able to order sometime this century. “Not even for night or online courses?”

  “No. The news her parents were selling really rocked her. She’d lost that impulse to make spaces pretty, I think, because she didn’t really feel like she had her own home anymore. Then we moved in together, and I bailed on her too.” Ally sighed. “We have a spare room at the house. More than one. I’ve debated asking her to move in.”

  “So she can be your live-in babysitter? Well, that’s handy.”

  Ally paled. “How can you say that?”

  I wasn’t sure why I’d said it. My sister-in-law wasn’t a user. Besides, I was their favorite victim for babysitter, not Sage.

  I could only imagine the fun I’d have watching two of their offspring, especially when one of them could indiscriminately spray me with pee.

  Clearing my throat, I wrapped my hands around the wheel. Just two cars left. “It sounds as if she’s been awfully convenient for a lot of people, including ones who love her.”

  Ally fell silent. My first impulse was to change the subject. Apologize. Something.

  Ah, hell, this was why I stuck to pleasant meals that were heavy on flirtation and innuendo with women of the opposite sex. Obviously, I didn’t know how to converse with them otherwise.

  “You’re right,” she said finally. “That wasn’t my intention, of course. But she’s so good with Laurie and such a natural at making a house a home…” She sighed. “We’d probably end up leaning on her without meaning to.”

  It was my turn to remain silent—minus my growling stomach. Maybe a double cheeseburger didn’t sound so bad after all.

  That was what I got for sitting in line looking at signs advertising the place for fifteen minutes. They’d actually made me long for grease.

  A moment later, I finally rolled up to the ordering box and asked for two of what Ally had requested. She gaped at me as I rolled forward in line toward the next window.

  “How did you know I wanted two fries? I’m not sure I can manage the two burgers though, but maybe…”

  “One is for me.”

  “Oh.” Her brows rose. “Wow.” She was quiet for half a second. “So, Friday night with Ursula? Got anything else planned for the weekend?”

  I made a noncommittal sound. Usually questions like that led to marathon baking sprees in my kitchen, with Laurie and me competing to see who could be covered in more flour.

  “No other plans?” she pressed as I tapped the gas and moved forward in the endless line.

  “No,” I said finally, guilt gnawing at my spine. I really did love Laurie, and we hadn’t had much time to hang out lately. “What do you want from me this time? Let me guess, a trip to Chuck E. Cheese’s? She mentioned that the last time I saw her. Or maybe a viewing of the latest Pixar classic at the movies. As long as it isn’t a repeat of that vile Trolls.”

  “Aww, Trolls was super cute. We’ve watched that three times so far as a family.”

  “This is why you’re the procreator and I’m just the benevolent uncle.” I made a gimme gesture with my fingers. “Now out with it. What do you want from me?”

  She bit her lip before a slew of words tumbled forth.

  For the record, I did not like any of them.

  “I wouldn’t normally ask this, because I try really hard not to meddle, and she’s old enough to do what she wants and live her own life, but I can’t help being a little anxious. With the baby coming so soon, my fledgling new mom senses are going all haywire, and we’d
appreciate it if you could maybe just do this one thing for me…for us. Seth would be happy too if he knew he didn’t have to talk me off the ledge while she was there.”

  She paused long enough to fill her lungs with oxygen.

  “So, can you go with Sage to Vegas?” I wasn’t sure, but I think she batted her lashes at me. “Pretty, pretty please?”

  3

  Sage

  I put aside all thought of Oliver’s erection. From what I’d heard from girlfriends over the years, it often didn’t take much to get them going. There was even that song “Jizz in My Pants” where the guy got excited by the breeze blowing and eating grapes and all kinds of crazy things. That hadn’t been my experience, but someone always screwed up the curve.

  Leave it to me.

  Considering Oliver actually being sexually aroused by me—me, specifically—was too far-fetched to swallow. I had good breasts, but from what I’d heard, he saw that part of the female anatomy too often to get excited by mine. Unless mine were more stupendous than I believed, and Jim’s underperforming penis could not corroborate that fact.

  Regardless, I was moving on.

  As the weekend neared, I called the radio station and tried to reschedule my trip one more time. For April or May, perhaps. When Ally would be able to travel and might relish an escape from her newborn.

  So I liked to delude myself. So sue me.

  The radio station, however, was not into delusions.

  You’ve rescheduled multiple times already. Shit or get off the pot.

  Said more nicely, of course. Slightly.

  I was so at odds about how to proceed that I didn’t even try to find Moose again. That hadn’t gone well the other day, and heck, if I was going to Vegas anyway, why look for an old man when I could potentially find a new one?

  Again, I realized this was unlikely since stranger danger was a real concern vis a vis my lady terrarium. But fantasies are free.

  Moose probably wouldn’t be that thrilled to hear from me in any case. I’d accidentally stomped on his shoe while dancing at the prom, and I’d broken a bone in his foot.

  If only I’d known back then that the die of my love life had already been cast.

  And it was firmly set on crazy eights.

  Friday morning, I woke for my last shift at the diner before my few days off with a migraine and a tickle in my stomach. I was sure I was coming down with a raging case of the flu. I’d picked up Laurie from school a few days ago and chatted with her teacher and some of her classmates, and naturally, the place was rife with the virus.

  I was ill. Clearly, I could not travel.

  A day at work being barked at by Greta without even the softening presence of my bestie—who was now out on maternity leave—did not improve my condition. I crawled into my bed at ten pm with the reassuring laugh track to the Golden Girls lulling me to sleep, confident that the fates were instructing me not to travel to the land of lust.

  My pristinely hymenated state would continue.

  Strangely, I was okay with it. Perhaps the answer was to consider alternate situations where my virginity would be a bonus rather than a seeming detriment.

  Like the nunnery.

  I would spend Saturday looking into those options, just in case. Even without traveling to engage in carnal desires, I didn’t intend to pursue becoming a nun right now. Things weren’t that dire. But if in, oh, five to ten years, I still hadn’t found someone to share my bed—if not my life—with…

  Well, I’d always been at peace in church and I had a damn fine singing voice for hymns.

  The no-swearing thing would definitely become a requirement though. I’d have to trade in my plastic gallon jug for a legit old-fashioned milk can.

  I slept fitfully Friday night, certain I would wake on Saturday too sick to fly. It was only the polite thing to do, not contaminating my fellow passengers.

  Instead, I woke before my alarm, stretched, and realized I felt absolutely fine.

  There was no way I could back out now.

  On the bright side, I’d packed the other day. My wardrobe was a mix of fun, flirty, casual clothes and more formal pieces for evening. I would only be there Saturday and Sunday nights, returning Monday, so the trip didn’t require a ton of outfits. Still, I fretted over including one more pair of strappy heels just in case. I only had three pairs, and the other two were already in the suitcase, along with my flats. I was so unprepared for Vegas and had been flip-flopping so much about whether I truly wanted to go that I’d done little research and hadn’t booked any shows. Luckily, the radio station trip included two tickets to see Celine Dion, who I loved, so I had one night’s entertainment all set.

  Sunday night, I’d wing it. See what developed. That was kind of what this whole trip was about. Being spontaneous. Letting the winds of fate and change blow me to my destiny. And so on and so forth.

  I’d probably end up watching cable in my room and binging on cheap wine from room service.

  Once I’d double-checked my suitcase and carry-on one last time, I detoured to the bathroom to put one more light layer of moisturizer on my face and hands, since I’d read planes were extremely dry. This was my first ever flight, and I did not want to meet my future with dry skin.

  Oh God, what if I hated flying? I’d probably be a nervous flyer. I tended to be nervous about most new things, part of why I stayed in my comfort zone.

  Not today. Today, I was taking a big fat leap.

  My phone beeped with a notification. Look at that, the Uber was outside, right on time.

  Eeep, I was really doing this. All by myself. First vacation in forever, first solo trip, first flight. Across the country, no less.

  I might even be proud of myself later if I didn’t spiral into a panic attack before I even arrived at the airport.

  The plus side was that I’d planned ahead. Needed paperwork and information was gathered and at the ready. I breezed through TSA, though I had to lift up my travel-appropriate light sweater and thin shirt underneath when something buzzed around my waist and they needed to verify I wasn’t packing heat. Then I was on my way, my step buoyed, excitement finally beginning to overtake nerves.

  Boarding time was upon me, and I was ready. Sin City and I were about to interface hardcore.

  I gripped the handle of my carry-on in my fist and walked down the aisle of the plane, searching for my row. Wow, pretty nice seat. I’d heard coach wasn’t much to speak about. Maybe I didn’t have caviar dreams, but I was quite happy with my accommodations so far. Besides, they were free.

  Turned out I was near the back. All good there. It seemed as if the plane was nearly full already. I’d been near the back of the line due to an unfortunate mishap with my shoe strap. No matter, I was here now and my seat was right…

  There. By the window. But before I could get to it, I would have to climb over a large lumberjack-appearing man in jeans and flannel with a beard long enough to French braid, and a rich-looking guy in a snazzy suit—

  Wait a second. I knew that rich-looking guy.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, planting a hand on my ample hip and glaring over Lumberjack’s head at the businessman beside him. One I was quite well acquainted with and did not have fond feelings for.

  Especially right now, when he was about to hijack my big solo adventure for reasons unknown. Pfft.

  Oliver removed his dark glasses—why he was wearing them on a plane, I didn’t know—and gave me a thin, forbidding smile. “I do believe this is a public, commercial flight. Though God knows why anyone would voluntarily choose to travel this way.”

  “Hey,” Lumberjack rumbled in a deep voice that fit him all too well. “He speaks. I asked you how you were before and you just grunted.”

  “I’m not on this flight to make friends and influence people.”

  I frowned. “That’s just rude. Why are you here again?” Before Oliver could answer, I gave Lumberjack my brightest, friendliest, Crescent Cove hometown smile. “I must ap
ologize for my enemy’s behavior. He doesn’t get out much. I’m doing quite well, myself. How are you, sir?”

  The lumberjack actually flushed. “H-hi,” he said, and Oliver made a noise that sounded like disgust, or possibly indigestion at his pre-flight breakfast. “I’m doing good. Well, I mean. Thank you.” He quickly tugged my small bag out of my hand. “Let me tuck that away for you.” He bent over to slide it under the seat in front of him.

  Lordy, he was big and broad all over. How did he even manage to wedge himself in that small space?

  “Why, thank you. That was very sweet of you. What’s your name?” I held out a hand. “I’m Sage Evans, and I’m twenty-six and an Aquarius. Just had my birthday last week, matter of fact. Truthfully, I’m on the cusp, but I identify more with my Aquarian nature.”

  “Aquarius, really?” Oliver shook his head. “Why don’t you tell him your favorite color and preferred meal while you’re at it?”

  “Hot pink and a nice steak sub with extra peppers and onions.” I smiled, though inwardly I was cringing at being quite so honest. There was nothing sexy about admitting you liked to load up on onions, but then again, I wasn’t trying to make a date. Just a friend.

  And yes, I also wanted to rile Oliver. Since he was doing a bang-up job at trying to look as if he couldn’t care less about the conversation—not—obviously, I was successful.

  “Pink is a nice color on you,” Lumberjack said, shifting in his seat and inclining his chin at my thin cardigan. “I like steak sandwiches too.”

  Except he pronounced it sammiches, which was pretty cute.

  “Would you please, sit down,” he added after a moment. “Your feet must be getting tired.”

  “Okay. But I’d like to sit next to you, not by the window.” I gave Oliver a hard stare.

  “You’re still sitting next to me even if I move into the window seat,” Oliver said, as if I wasn’t smart enough to figure that out on my own. But he moved next to the window just the same.

  I shrugged. “At least one of my seatmates will be pleasant.”