A Baby for the Boss

But does he feel the same way?

What if he doesn’t?

How can I expect a man—as perfect and wonderful as this one—to dive into parenthood with someone he’s only known such a short time? Based on popular movies and television shows, men often have to be dragged into such arrangements. What if he’s not interested? How am I going to survive the heartbreak?

I glance over at Turk where he sits in the driver’s seat, surprised to find him staring back at me, chewing the inside of his cheek. His chest rises and falls quickly. What is he thinking about? I don’t get a chance to find out before he’s shaking himself, the line disappearing from between his brows. “You said you wanted to fill this house with people.” He nods at the mayhem taking place in my driveway. “So I threw a party. I hope you don’t mind.”

When his words register, a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob leaves my mouth, my hands flying up and pressing to my cheeks. Love so thick I can barely breathe around it floods my chest, my middle. All of me. All for him. “You…did?” The backs of my eyes are burning, along with the tip of my nose. “When?”

“I sent a few texts on our way out of the stadium. Sorry, they were supposed to stay outside. Looks like someone found your spare key.”

“I don’t mind,” I whisper, awestruck.

“You should know…” A line jumps in his cheek. “I threatened to murder anyone who I decide is being too friendly toward you. Just in case you’re wondering why a bunch of foul-mouthed athletes are acting like polite gentlemen.”

My giggle catches me off guard. I’ve never heard myself laugh like this.

Turk swallows audibly, his hand turning to a fist on the steering wheel. “That has to be the most incredible sound on the planet.”

As if realizing he’d said too much, Turk drops his hand from the wheel, pushing open the driver’s side door. He does all of this while I’m melting into a puddle of goo not three feet away. Can’t he tell? Are we going to have that chance to talk now? These feelings are threatening to burst out of me at any moment. Watching him cross the front bumper on his way to open my door has my thighs cinching together, my fingertips curling into the seat.

Need him.

He reaches my side and pulls open the door, unbuckling me while making close eye contact, his knuckles brushing my nipples once, then twice to let me know it wasn’t an accident. While I struggle to keep my breathing under control, he leans in and speaks directly into my ear. “You’re going to hold Daddy’s hand the entire time. Have a good time and enjoy yourself, but don’t leave my side until every last male has gone home. It’s the only way I’ll be able to stay calm.”

How did I ever live without this?

Was I half alive all along?

I love being obedient to this man. Turk. Only Turk. Because I know with total confidence that he cares about and respects me. I’m the one who called him Daddy first. I asked him to play this role because something on my inside was unmoored. Until now.

Without a word, I hold out my hand and Turk takes it, winding our fingers together and lifting me out of the truck with the opposite forearm, holding me close for several seconds, kissing my forehead and swaying, before finally leading me toward the house.

A loud cheer goes up and I stumble backward, caught off guard. Thankfully, Turk must have anticipated my surprise, because he moves just in time, my back landing against his chest.

“There she is,” shouts the coach, holding up a bottle of beer. “The MVP of today’s game. They didn’t know what hit them in the second half.” More cheers and whistles. “If being an heiress doesn’t pan out, you’ve always got a job as an assistant coach.” Everyone laughs at this, including Turk, amusement rumbling in his chest. “To Missy,” the couch barks, holding his beer higher—and while I watch in astonishment, everyone does the same, repeating the toast.

My eyes flood with tears and I turn, burying my face in Turk’s powerful chest, his arms enfolding me instantly. He kisses the crown of my head and holds me close without saying anything. The party resumes as loudly and raucously as before—and it’s the most glorious thing.

Having some life within my walls.

Having life surround me at all.

I took a chance by approaching this man and the reward is impossible to put into words. He’s a miracle. A wonder. And I have to find the courage to ask him to stay.

Obviously now is not the time, since an entire football team and coaching staff are partying in my house. But it has to be today. I can’t sleep another night without him.