Brogan (Carolina Reapers 9)

I wound up in the kitchen, leaning against the pristine marble island, wondering if I should go grab my stuff or talk to him about it first.

He heaved a sigh as he sank into a barstool across the island and rubbed his temples. “I’ve never, not once in my life, known anything was capable of crying so much.”

I bit my bottom lip to hold in the laugh, my heart going out to this NHL star. Not that he didn’t play an obvious part—allegedly—in creating this baby, but still. It’s one thing to be told you’re having a baby and another to be sprung with the news in the span of a night.

“Every baby is different,” I said. “My little sister Gene was an angel, never cried, slept through the night, ate well.” I shrugged. “My little brother Joseph never stopped crying. In fact, his voice is super rough due to all the crying he did as a newborn.”

Brogan looked at me with those wide hazel eyes of his. The flecks of honey brown and gold stood out amongst the green, and there was just a hint of panic growing there. Panic, but also a solid sort of resolve I couldn’t help but admire. Not to mention, they were pretty nice eyes to look at. Well, when he wasn’t scowling, that was.

Okay, even with the scowl, he somehow managed to pull it off.

“You found the formula, okay?” he asked.

I bit my lip, trying not to laugh as I glanced at the can of formula that he’d left out on the counter behind me.

“You mean the super expensive, wholly organic formula you put over there?” I teased, and he nodded.

I had peeked around his kitchen while warming the formula, and I had to say I was shocked. Everything in the cabinets was organized to the nth degree, with the brand labels facing out. It looked like one of those professional organizers’ Instagram kitchens. Not what I expected from the millionaire hockey star, who looked like he could be comfortable swinging a trident around while fighting for an underwater kingdom.

“I’m surprised you haven’t created a label and custom spot for the stuff yet,” I teased again, noting a hint of levity returning to his hazel eyes.

He shrugged. “I haven’t had time to make one yet,” he said, and a pang of sympathy hit me dead center in the chest. He wasn’t in denial, wasn’t trying to push Skye off to the system until he had one-hundred-percent proof she was his. He was giving it his all, and I had to admire that about him.

“You’re a pretty organized person,” I said.

“I like efficiency,” he said. “I’m not really into wasting time. If everything has its proper place, I’m not wasting time trying to find it.”

I bit back a laugh again. “You know babies kind of throw a wrench in that whole routine, right?” I asked, wanting to be real with him from the get-go. “I’m not saying you can’t have a baby and a clean house, but I want to help give you realistic expectations.”

He grunted. “Everything that has happened since yesterday has been pretty unreal.”

I nodded. “I understand,” I said, then furrowed my brow. “Well, in all honesty, I don’t understand.” I sighed. “I don’t understand how a mother could drop off her baby like this.” I flashed him an apologetic look, and he stared at the counter, his mind in a totally different place.

“Do you have any idea who she might be?” I asked when he hadn’t responded. When he continued to look at that counter like he was seeing a flashback of everyone he’d slept with in the past year, I turned around and opened his fridge. I grabbed two bottles of water and headed around the island to hand him one.

He blinked a few times, taking the water from me, looking up at me from my slightly raised position as I stood in front of where he sat. “I don’t exactly keep a roster,” he said, his tone wholly defensive.

I tilted my head at him, reaching out a hand and placing it over his tensing forearm. “It’s all good,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to. And we’ll figure it all out. One step at a time, okay?”

Surprise flickered in his eyes, and I drew my hand back. “You’re not judging me?”

I huffed a laugh. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe because a baby was left on my doorstep, and there could be over a dozen possible women who are the mother. None of which I know personally.”

“The woman who left Skye on your doorstep is…” I cut myself off, taking a deep breath. “Severely damaged. That’s not on you. And the rest? Like I said, I’m here to help. We’ll figure it all out.”

Brogan released a sigh so deep and long it sounded like he’d been holding it in since he found Skye yesterday.