Baby Maker (It Takes Two 1)

I can always count on my best friend to turn my big deals into a whole lot of nothing.

“I don’t know, Marcia, should I?”

“Hell yeah. Get it while you can,” she practically shouts. How predictable. I don’t know why I ask when I already know the answer. “Ride that baloney pony across the plains of Oklahoma.”

The snort cannot be helped. “Gross. That’s…you’re really gross sometimes.”

“Oh please, you love it.”

“I do love it,” I retort, snickering. “I don’t know…” My eyes wander to the wall, over the draft night picture of Dane holding up his Gladiator jersey. He was so young. The smile is the same though. “This could ruin everything.”

“I’ve got news for you. It’s already ruined––at least, your intention of keeping this thing all business is. You’re half in love with him already so you may as well shoplift the pootie from the hot, single, soon-to-be dad.”

“I can’t shoplift. I’m no good at shoplifting.”

You know that gene that all girls get, the one that comes with the instructions on how to flirt? Yeah, I don’t have that.

I can talk to men. I can work with them. I can negotiate with them. I can even hang with them. But I cannot flirt. The few times I’ve attempted it I end up sounding like I’m reading sports stats––or stock analysis. In other words, very unsexy.

And I can’t even refute what she said about me being half in love because A– it would be a bald-faced lie and B–she would never buy it.

“Jiminy Crickets, this is not brain surgery. Take your clothes off and I guarantee he’ll take care of the rest.”

“And then what? What happens after? What if we can’t get along?”

“Stop overthinking. Stop trying to put everything in a box with a label.”

“I do not do that.” Maybe I do…a little bit.

“Uhhh, yeah, you do.”

“I do not.” A tiny bit.

“What’s your favorite store?”

“That means I’m organized.”

“Say it.”

Sigh. Big, heavy sigh. “The Container Store.”

“Nuff said. I’m hanging up now. Happy shoplifting.”

The line goes dead.

Chapter Twenty-One

Stella

By the time Dane returned from his meeting, around early evening, I was showered and dressed, having managed to salvage the black jersey dress I wore here by hanging it in the bathroom and letting the steam do the job.

I step into the great room to find Dane waiting for me. He turns away from the massive television screen where a football game is playing and meets my gaze. It doesn’t look like a comb has been anywhere near that head, and still, wearing a simple white dress shirt and a pair of navy slacks, he just might qualify as the sexiest man on the planet.

I don’t know where to look, what to say. Everything being out in the open feels awkward to me. Meanwhile, he’s as relaxed as ever. Story of my life.

“Do you miss it?”

When he stares back blankly, I point to the television. His focus remaining strictly on me, he slowly shakes his head.

“Come here,” a rough-hewed voice commands.

I’ve never been a fan of being ordered around but my feet seem to like it because they obey without question, carrying me straight over to him.

He wraps a big hand around my neck, fingers raking through my hair. His gaze openly roams over my breasts, my hips, my legs with an expression that can only be categorized as hungry.

“You look gorgeous…but then you always do to me.”

Those vulnerable and honest words spoken in a low voice find the crack in the wall around my heart and get in. I can’t look up. I can’t because he’ll see it all. All my hopes and desires. All my doubts and fears.

“I’m starving. Let’s go,” he says, snapping the living, breathing tension.

A smile stretches across my face. “When are you not hungry?” I reply, laughing.

Taking my hand, he leads me out of the house, to the truck in the driveway. Once I’m in the passenger seat, his hand hanging over the top of the open door, he pauses, watching me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Hardly ever,” he murmurs seductively, one corner of his mouth tilting up in a smile that says he can’t wait to demonstrate.

My face catches fire, the dark of night saving me from looking like a neon sign. The kiss upped the ant-. He’s no longer hiding behind veiled suggestions, behind the jokes. He’s boldly staking a claim––and that claim is sex with me.

Forty five minutes later, we’re back in Oklahoma City, pulling into a busy parking lot where a valet takes the truck.

On the car ride over he explained that he spent the day negotiating the sale of the ranch––most of the land and the stock, that is. The houses and stables would remain in his family. I wondered how Bill felt about it but didn’t pry.

“I can’t wait for you to meet them.”

“Who?”

“My friends,” he says with a sweet smile.

My stomach flips. He wants me to meet his friends? For reasons unknown, this feels like an important detail.

We walk into the bar and all the people crowding it turn to stare. It’s busy for a Thursday night.

The place beautifully decorated, contemporary. Gleaming dark wood and nickel accents. Lovely velvet-covered booths and a dance floor in the back. It has a sexy loungey vibe to it that wouldn’t be out of place in Manhattan.

Behind the backlit bar, a very fit guy with a neat short beard and a trendy haircut eyeballs Dane. His hair is pitch-black offsetting his light-brown eyes and the blond freckles dusting his face. Tattoos on his neck peek out over his white shirt collar and cuffs. He’s handsome in a moody, broody way. In other words, not my type.

“Noah!”

“Fuck you, Dane,” Noah the angry bartender responds.

“You still mad, boo?” Turning to me, Dane says, “Noah here is still mad I chose Not

re Dame over Oklahoma State. It’s a touchy subject for him.” Noah winks at me and I smile back.

“What are you doin’ here?” Dane asks.

“They’re short-staffed,” moody Noah answers.

“Where’s Jbear?”

“With the kids tonight. Nyla’s in the kitchen.”

“Noah, this is Stella.”

Noah turns his whiskey-colored eyes on me and grins, his perfect teeth splitting his neat beard. “What did you do to get mixed up with the likes of him?”

“Long story.”

The banter, the smiles and easy conversation amongst friends––for most people it’s a small thing. Not to me however. To me it’s all new.

For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m not an outsider looking in. I’m accepted without judgment or stipulation. For the first time, I’m included without having to work my fingers to the bone to earn it.

“We’ll catch up later, boo. I’m on a date.”

That word hits me in the heart. But I’m not going to ruin tonight by second-guessing myself, or wanting answers to questions that haven’t been asked. I let fate run away with me. I live in the moment.

Dane leans closer as we walk away. “It was always me, Noah, and Jermaine in high school.”

“Did they play football, too?”

“Yeah, Jermaine went on to play center for the Kansas City Chiefs. He retired three years ago. And Noah unfortunately got injured his rookie year and had to quit.”

The look on Dane’s face tells me there’s more to that story but I don’t have time for questions; a woman approaches us with outstretched arms. A gorgeous black woman with long chunky cornrow braids.

“Hey, beautiful,” Dane says walking into the woman’s arms. She laughs when his hug lifts her off her feet.

“Where the heck have you been? I thought you were moving back to the ranch after you announced retirement?” she asks with a wide grin. Then she spots me and her expression turns curious.

“Nyla, this is Stella,” Dane says cheerfully.

“Nice to meet you, Stella,” she says with a genuine smile. “I take it you’re the reason this guy hasn’t moved back home?”

“No,” I answer while Dane says, “Yes,” at the same time. Our eyes meet, Dane’s filled with affection. There’s no other way to describe it.