My Ex's Baby (Crescent Cove 8)

I pushed a hand through my hair. God, we were both fucked up.

You were surrounded by babies and mothers tonight. Probably part of it.

Yet I hadn’t been, so what was my problem?

The baby-obsessed town we lived in was probably influencing me too, but I’d never had an issue with controlling my urges for procreation before our near miss. It had made me think. Wonder about a different kind of life beyond just working and spending time with my friends and watching Rhi. I loved all of those things, but hell, I could have a family too. Gideon was proof enough that you could make a relationship work, even with an occasionally…challenging woman.

If he could, dammit, I could too.

I always wanted 1. Just didn’t think it would happen 4 me.

Her words tugged hard at my chest. Even knowing she was feeling the effects of the alcohol, I suspected some of it was sterling truth. That bothered me in some kind of caveman-like way I had no desire to analyze.

Instead, I got up and shoved my phone in my back pocket. I grabbed my wallet, which held two of the condoms I’d

bought optimistically and then relegated to my sock drawer.

She’d been drinking, so it wasn’t going down like that. Not again. Especially with all of this now on the table.

Nope, that would most certainly be a sober conversation. One we would be having in full detail whether or not she’d ‘come to her senses’ by tomorrow.

She texted again while I snagged my keys off the table by the door, but I didn’t slow down. I was a man on a mission.

Halfway out the door, I turned around and grabbed a pair of scissors to ruthlessly trim one of the two violets I’d managed to grow after far too long spent trying. Guilt immediately assailed me at plucking one of the pair, but the end was worth the means.

And the day I showed up at a woman’s—the woman’s—door at past eleven without some kind of offering, pitiful as it was, was the day I wasn’t Annie Beck’s eldest son.

Fake latex allergy and all.

I went to the other side of the duplex and pulled out my phone. I couldn’t just barge in, though I had a key. Maybe Lucky Charms wasn’t banging my sister yet and then what?

Yeah, just the thought I did not need in my head. Not the lack of banging, but the opposite.

I read Kinleigh’s latest text and swallowed a groan.

Not surprised u didn’t reply. Heavy shit. Nm. Have a nice nite.

Great time to not answer, genius.

Quickly, I texted her back.

Are you alone?

No. I’m at Ivy’s. Remember? Have u been *beer emoji*?

Just one. Are they still awake?

Y?

I had to grin. Even drunk, Kinleigh was far too suspicious. I lo—liked how she challenged me at every turn, even if sometimes it pissed me off.

I’m here to make a baby with you.

The door to Ivy’s side of the duplex flew open so fast that I reared back. I had mere seconds to enjoy the sight of Kinleigh with wet hair, wearing only a tight nightshirt that said Kiss Me I’ve Got Irish Inside Me and fuzzy striped knee socks. She leaned out and yanked me inside with a fistful of my shirt, holding her finger up to her mouth.

“Shh,” she whispered in case I didn’t understand the gesture. She nudged the door closed and dragged me toward the guest bedroom, her hand wrapped securely around mine.

I liked the feeling far too much.