Brogan (Carolina Reapers 9)

“Fine, then let’s go ask Fiona what we do. Langley said she’s got a doctorate—”

“In child psychology,” I muttered. “Not parenting.”

We found her putting away a box of snacks into the pantry, and I bit back the urge to correct her on the shelf placement of her Cocoa Pebbles. Who the fuck ate that sugary shit?

Apparently she does.

I blinked as she rose up on her toes and lined the boxes up. Maxim was right. Fiona had a body meant to make men crawl, and those yoga pants were certainly showing her ass to its best advantage.

Stop ogling the fucking nanny.

“I need some help.” I forced the words out. Help was not something I liked to ask for. It put me in a position of weakness, a position where I could be let down, and that shit wasn’t acceptable. Self-reliance was the only way of living, and yet again...here I was.

“Sure!” She turned and gave me a smile that took her from beautiful to a fucking stunner. “What can I help you with?”

“I have no clue what I’m supposed to do now,” I admitted slowly.

Her brow furrowed and she glanced at her watch. “I thought you guys were supposed to be on your way to practice. That’s why I’m here, right?”

“Fuuuuck,” I growled, my head falling backward slightly. “How the hell am I supposed to do all of this with the season starting?”

“That’s why you have me,” she answered with a little nod and eyes that were entirely too compassionate not to like.

“Right.” I braced my hand on the kitchen counter, concentrating on the cool feel of the smooth granite beneath my fingertips and not the swirling vortex of what-the-fuck in my head. “Okay, we need to tell Asher. He’ll know the right lawyers.”

“Anything come to you about who her mom is?” Maxim asked, crossing the kitchen and pulling two bottles of water out. “Want one?” He asked Fiona.

She shook her head since she still had hers from earlier. I’d already killed mine. Did stress cause dehydration?

He tossed one my way, and I cracked it open, draining it halfway down before I spoke. “I remember a silver dress. Brown hair. That’s it. What was I thinking?”

“We were all more than a little trashed that night.” Maxim shook his head. “I don’t remember much past that eighth round of tequila shots, but I know you were alone when I came to get you for brunch.”

“So all we know is her name is Tiffany and she was in Miami with you,” Fiona said slowly.

“It’s not like I make women sign NDAs or keep notches in my bedpost,” I grunted.

“Now that you say it, the NDA isn’t a half-bad idea,” Maxim mused.

Fiona rolled her eyes. “Okay, so finding out who her mom is goes a little lower on the immediate list.” She drummed her fingers on the counter and pursed her lips, her gaze shifting as she obviously thought something over. “She needs a checkup first, and then we need to go shopping. Most of everything in her little suitcase is a size too small, and one pack of diapers is only going to last you a day or so.”

“Doctor. Right.” I fought off the buzzing that threatened to overtake my head. I knew shock from experience, and I wasn’t about to do my daughter any good if I gave into it now.

Daughter.

“I can call my friend Madeline. She’s a pediatrician,” Fiona offered.

“Is she any good?”

Fiona’s eyebrows rose.

“I mean, if she’s not, then I don’t want…” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Fuck it, call your friend.”

“She’s a great pediatrician,” Fiona promised. “And I’d be more worried if you didn’t care if she was good instead of questioning if she is,” she finished softly. “Why don’t you guys get to practice, and I’ll see if she can fit us in this afternoon?”

I nodded. “I would appreciate it.” Panic washed over me. “Wait, should I be going to practice? It’s just a pick-up game.”

“Trust me, a little time doing what you love will help you clear your head,” Fiona suggested. “That’s what I’m here for.”

“I bet Mia would love to help shop,” Maxim offered. His baby sister was the only person in the world he went soft for. “Evie, too.” Mia and her best friend, Evie, were pretty much attached at the hip.

“Yeah, that would be great. Tell them to buy whatever they want.” My eyes snapped up to meet his. “But all the reviews on it have to be the best.” Shit, she needed the best everything if she was going to be balanced out with having me as a dad.

“Sounds like a plan. Now let’s get you on the ice before your head explodes.”

“Twelve pounds, eight ounces,” the nurse said as Skye squirmed on the basket-looking scale later that afternoon.

“Is that okay?” I picked up Skye and took the blanket Fiona offered so I could wrap her up. Was it just me, or was it way too fucking cold in this exam room for a baby to get stripped down?