Baby Daddy Wanted (Crescent Cove 5)

Had she really meant to post that to the group’s main page?

She wasn’t exactly the type to put all her business on Facebook, but then again, she wasn’t quiet about giving her opinions. Especially when she and Macy got going. They were entertaining as hell, and I wished I had the balls to act on my feelings for her.

But to post this? It just didn’t make sense.

Before I could stop myself, I messaged her using my business account. I just needed to check on her and make sure she meant to post it. That was all.

No, idiot, you just don’t want her to know it’s you.

Maybe then she’ll notice you for the first time—ever.

My thumbs flew over my phone. Short and sweet. Just a concerned citizen.

Liar.

My finger hovered over the send button. I should be smart about this. I shouldn’t send anything.

A knock at the door startled me enough that I gripped the phone tight and the swishing sound of my email sound filled the air.

“You all right in there?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“There’s antiseptic in the cabinet. You may go in there and get the tube if you’d like,” Mrs. Gunderson called through the door.

Well, it was too late now. Message sent. I stuffed my phone back into my pocket. “Thank you.” I stared at my image in the wall-sized mirror. “Idiot,” I added in an undertone.

The idiot was me, not Mrs. Gunderson.

I opened the middle section of the cabinet. Sure enough, there was some triple-antibiotic right there. All nice and organized.

Grimacing, I smeared it on. I hated the caked-on, oily residue feeling. The last time I’d had this much on my skin was after my one and only tattoo, but it did take the sting out. The double-walled coffee tumbler from Brewed Awakening definitely kept the damn coffee hot.

Then again, it did mean I had to go get another cup.

And maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to see a certain surprising woman looking for a life change.

My dick twitched in my cargos at the idea of making a baby with Veronica Dixon—the old-fashioned way. Truthfully, I’d thought of more than one biblical position involving myself and Vee. When she smiled up at me with those perfect bottle green eyes as she handed me my coffee—yeah, I definitely had more thoughts about that woman than were wise.

I just didn’t know how to open my mouth.

She was so beautiful. So fucking full of light and perfection. What the hell would she want with me? Moose—just as huge and lumbering as the name suggested.

I sighed and shut the cabinet door before washing my hands and opening the door. Little Mrs. Gunderson was waiting for me in the hallway, her face pinched with worry before going slightly slack as she gazed up at me.

“My, you are a big young man.”

I pressed my lips together and resisted the urge to cover my middle. There was a lot more muscle packed under my the flab these days thanks to rowing, but I was still a big guy. Always had been. So much so that I made people very nervous. While Lucky was even bigger than me, somehow he seemed to have effortless athleticism.

Me? I knocked over coffee so I looked like I’d pissed myself. Oh, and how could I forget the ointment slathered in my chest hair that made it seem as if I had mange?

Awesome.

I squeezed past Mrs. Gunderson and thanked her again before running out to my truck for the backup shirt I kept in my duffel bag. Along with my big-ass body came a whole lot of sweat. Sometimes I changed shirts before stopping into get another coffee before I went home to do my real job.

The one that half the town wasn’t aware of.

I loved working with Gideon’s handyman service, but I definitely couldn’t live off what he paid me. Being my best friend came with perks for him. I took as little as possible to keep him from feeling like he was taking advantage. Most of the time I poured the money back into supplies for him or tools to use.