Have My Baby (Crescent Cove 1)

“I didn’t stay.” My laughter fell off quickly. “I left.”

“With his knowledge? Or did you run away again like last time while the poor guy wasn’t even aware.” When I glared at her, she lifted her hands, palms out. “Just calling ‘em like I see ‘em. You ditched the dude at a sensitive moment. Question is, was it once…or twice?”

“It wasn’t like that.” I paced away from her and pushed a hand through my hair. And inhaled such a strong whiff of Seth’s cologne that he might as well have been standing in the room with us.

Because he was all over you. Up against you. Inside you.

Christ.

“If you say so.”

“It was awkward with Shelly right outside. She probably heard, and this is all new to me, and God, it’s still so strange to face him after having him—” I exhaled. “It’s so intimate. I don’t know how to do intimate. My leaving is actually doing him a favor, saving him from all the awkward.”

“I’m sure he appreciates it.”

“Jerk.” I turned to smack her, but she darted away and reached for the doorknob.

“I gotta get back. But it’s your day off. You should probably take it. Run home, take a bubble bath.”

“Oh God.” Her mention of bathing reminded me that yeah, I could use some serious bathroom time. “Yes, let me go take a quick shower. I’ll be back in half an hour. Can I borrow your key? I forgot my purse.”

She rolled her eyes and lifted her lanyard with her keys off her neck and pulled it over her head. “So that means he’ll have to chase after you. Unless that was exactly what you hoped.” She handed me the key. “If it was, I have to say good move. I never think that clearly in the heat of the moment.”

“One second you think I’m a skank for ditching him.” I shook my head, running my thumb over the battered edge of the key. “The next I’m the chick with all the moves, and let’s face it, I so am not.”

“You’re the one who has hottie Seth all tied up in a knot. I’d say you have a lot more going for you than you know.” She winked and ducked out the door, closing it behind her.

A second later, the door opened again and she stuck her head inside. “Oh, and start thinking about that shower. I’ll come up with a theme, but a gender would really help my design.”

“Get out of here.”

“Gone. And I’ll make sure that hamburger is waiting for you at your preferred table in back once you’ve showered.” She winked. “A mother-to-be needs her calories.”

She shot back out the door before I could screech.

In spite of everything, I grinned. And glanced down at my mostly flat belly, hating that she was making me wonder. It was too soon. It couldn’t be a thing already. I’d know, wouldn’t I? Maybe even the instant it happened. How could you not? Something that incredible, that special, taking place inside you…

Dear Lord, I was sounding as woo-woo as Sage.

I shook my head and aimed for the door. I needed to run down the street to our loft and get cleaned up. Then I’d come back and eat my hamburger—oh God, so hungry—and read a book on my day off, instead of panic-working. I could totally handle all of this.

Maybe I’d take that meal to go and eat on a bench near the lake. A picnic for one. Yay.

Not.

Half an hour later, I was freshly showered and changed into a pair of capri jeans and a tank top. I felt like me again. Dresses were fun, but I’d always be a jeans and T-shirt sort of woman. Reason twelve-hundred-fifty I’d assumed Seth could never see me as more than a friend. He preferred the uber feminine type. Or at least he had.

I wasn’t sure what he preferred anymore.

The bell dinged as I stepped into the diner, and this time, I didn’t hunch my shoulders. I wasn’t running away from anyone or anything. I was…taking a pause. There. That sounded better. Mature.

Of course that maturity fell away the instant I glimpsed dark hair shot through with silver and a twin version of the man I’d just had sex with seated at the booth beside the one I always selected. Awesome.

I plastered on a smile and went right up to their table. This was Seth’s family, after all. I’d just say hello and escape to my booth while clinging to my gratitude that they hopefully hadn’t overheard Sexathon 2017.

“Alison,” Mr. Hamilton said before I could speak. “You’re not working today?” he asked, taking in my attire.

I was probably imagining the faint sneer in his voice. Had to be. He’d never been warm to me, but he usually wasn’t rude either. Militantly civil was a more accurate description.