Claim My Baby (Crescent Cove 2)

Seth and Oliver were slapping backs beside us, talking in low voices. Knowing them, the congratulations were probably mixed with insults.

Ah, love was a many a splendored thing. It was also often extremely fucked up, but splendored.

Oh, and just FYI, my swear gallon is officially retired. I’m owning my potty mouth like the badass I’m on my way to becoming.

Work in progress there.

“Congrats, soon-to-be sister-in-law,” Seth said before drawing me into an embrace.

“Thank you. I’m so happy to join your insane family.”

Oliver sighed. “I wish I could dispute that, but the truth wins out.” He frowned. “Oh hell, was I supposed to ask for your dad’s permission before I asked you? It wasn’t exactly planned.”

“No, I think whatever weird-ass conversation you had that morning in the kitchen probably suffices on that score.”

“Swear jar!” Laurie shouted before running to play in the snow.

“Put it on my tab,” I called back, turning to look at the rest of the members of my new family. They were all smiling. Romance had won the day, after a rocky start.

Might as well end it with a bang.

“There’s even more good news.” I grinned as I gripped Oliver’s hand, the vibrator securely tucked between our palms. My kind of dirty promise. “Seth offered to pay for the wedding.”

Epilogue

Oliver & Sage

Six months later

“Are you ready?”

I stared hard at the closed bathroom door. We were back in the hotel suite we’d stayed in that first weekend last winter for our “babymoon”—and another surprise event she had not been apprised of yet. Timing was of the essence there. Soon, Sage wouldn’t be able to fly until the baby was born in October.

Our little pumpkin. Complete with newborn Halloween costume I’d insisted on buying.

“Yoo-hoo, Hamilton? You out there?”

I was so ready, I’d probably tear a hole in my boxers if she kept me waiting much longer. “Get in here.”

The door opened, and Sage stepped out in the sleep set she wanted to model for me.

It wasn’t as risqué as a few of the pieces she’d purchased early on in her pregnancy, but the tiny boy shorts that rode high on her thighs and silky, lace-strapped top made me fist my hand in the sheets just the same. Her breasts were so much larger than they’d been, and the perfection of her round belly was highlighted by the fringe of lace draped over the top of her stomach. Her miles of wavy blond hair tumbled over her shoulders and flirted with the tops of her breasts, dipping down to curve seductively near her nipples.

Bow-festooned nipples. Bows were a theme with us, from the necklace she never took off to her engagement ring to the pretty little ties I sometimes wrapped around her wrists. Occasionally ankles too.

“Dear God,” I said, voice low.

“Like it?” She came around to my side of the bed, and her skin shimmered under the lights with glittery fairy dust or some such. As she got closer, I saw that she’d written words with the glittery stuff on the fullest part of her belly.

Daddy’s girl.

Yes, we were having a girl, and yes, I may or may not have purchased every available piece of baby clothing with that phrase in Crescent Cove. Recently, I’d been online shopping to boot.

By the time our daughter actually arrived, there probably wouldn’t be any room left for her in the nursery due to all the clothes, toys, and baby paraphernalia, mostly bought by me.

My shame level hovered right around ze

ro. I’d promised to spoil them every day of my life, and I was off to a rip-roaring start.