Evolve Series Box Set (103 page)

Stripping down to my briefs as quickly and silently as possible, I climb in beside her. Remaining still, I make sure I didn’t wake her, then scoot down in the bed until my legs hang off the end of the mattress so my face is even with her belly.

“Hey there, sport, or princess, or whoever you want to be, no pressure.” Off to a great start. “What I mean is, hey you in there,” I whisper. “I’m gonna be your dad. And one day, maybe you’ll hear things, like I’m not your dad dad or something, but I’m hoping by then I’ve taught you how to see through that bullshit. Oh sorry, I mean, that crap. Being a Dad means more than you’ll ever learn in Biology. I’m gonna do my damndest to show you what all those other things are. And if you’re a son, I’m gonna show you how to love a woman right, the way I love your mama. And if you’re a little girl, I’ll show you what to expect from a man.”

The feel of a hand on my head, rubbing softly, tells me I’ve been caught.

“I love you,” she whispers.

Kissing her stomach, I shift up even with her. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought I was whispering.”

“You were.” She smiles sleepily, stroking my head. “It’s fine. That was worth waking up for.”

I lean in and touch my lips to hers. “Go back to sleep, babe.”

“Who taught you to be such a fine man?” she asks softly. “You’ve never told me a thing about your family.”

“Sure I have, I told ya I wouldn’t go there. The Crew’s my family, especially Dane.”

“What about your parents? Grandparents? Aunts, uncles?” She keeps pushing and the curious sympathy in her voice makes my skin crawl.

“Can we not do this? I just wanna hold you and fall asleep.” I wrap myself around her, hoping we’re done.

She fights it, probably biting through her tongue for about three minutes until she can’t take it any longer. “My story was ugly, but at least I told you,” she says through a sigh.

“Em, this is not one of those ‘please drag it out of me cause deep down I really wanna talk about it’ things, I swear. I simply don’t care. I really don’t. I had a birth mom, she sucked, mostly for meth. When I got big enough to block a few blows and maybe give a few back to her dick of the day, school saw bruises and I landed in foster care. That was my gig ‘til I was eighteen, then I got out, fucked off, met Dane, and here I am.”

“I’m so sorry, Sawyer.” She tries to roll over but I hold her still.

We are not doing this. I do not want her to look at me like that right now.

“Your story wasn’t exactly pretty, babe. Nobody I know has postcard parents, except maybe Evan. Bennett’s aren’t bad either, but other than that? You and I are the norm, not the exception. Everybody’s got their own shit.”

“You’re right,” she relents, “I won’t ever bring it up again.” She scoots further back against me, pulling my arm around her snugly. “Night, Sawyer.”

“Night, babe.” I kiss her hair, smelling her girly shampoo. “I love you too.”

***

In no time at all, we have eliminated thirty-two pages of the baby name book she bought. There’s not even one option we both like. I’d love to meet the person who made up half those damn names—are they just gunning for kids to get ridiculed? I mean come on, work with me, people!

Alex is only a nickname, so I’m honestly afraid our baby is going to end up being named “Baby.” Every time I bring up this crucial point, Emmett laughs and says “then we can’t put them in the corner.” I have no idea what that means, but nobody better even think about putting my kid in the corner anyway, lest they want my foot up their ass.

Much like the crib (if anybody asks), I single-handedly put together the bassinet we got for the bedroom, using every single part in the box! And I hid the breast pump straight away. That thing looks like a medieval torture device and will not be going anywhere near my favorite set of beautiful boobs. I will happily milk her.

She didn’t like it when I said it, either.

Overall, things have been great, but I’m restless. Every once in a while, I stop and look around. I find my phone, my keys, my Emmett…nothing’s missing, but it doesn’t help. Something’s off and I can’t shake it.

“You think I’m just looking for something to go wrong since I’ve never had great?” I kick my shoes up on the edge of Dane’s desk while he stares at his computer screen.

“Maybe, that sounds like you. I wouldn’t worry until there’s something to worry about, though. You could be me. Laney’s harder to pin down than an angry bear.”

“I bet.” I chuckle, enjoying his predicament.

“Seriously,” he runs a hand through his hair, pulling, “I know she’s only twenty, but it’s not like I’m fifty, and I’m ready. I want to take the next step. She wants to plant her feet in cement.”

“What next step? You mean like married? It’s only been a year, bud.”

“Bullshit,” he grumbles, banging on the keyboard.

“Relax, you don’t have to get married tomorrow. You guys got a good thing the way it is, don’t rush it.”

“Says the man about to have a baby?” He stares at me pointedly.

“That was all the universe, brother,” I explain, holding my arms out with a flourish. “Fate dealt, I called. What you’re talking about is jumping the gun.”

“We could have a long engagement.”

“You could.” I nod, letting my feet fall and sitting up straight. “Maybe ask her to move in? I’ll be leaving the duplex officially real soon.”

“You’re moving in with Emmett?”

“Well yeah, douche. Kinda thought I’d live with my fiancé and child. I’m crazy like that.”

“Fiancé? When the fuck did that happen?”

“Hasn’t.” I grab a mint from the bowl on his desk and pop it in my mouth, standing. “I’m waiting for my moment. Later.” I head to the door, laughing the whole way. I think it’s hifuckinglarious that the one man always in control, able to make just about anything happen, fell flat on his ass for the most stubborn, independent hellcat of a woman I’ve ever met.

Hifuckinglarious.

CHAPTER 23

Good Luck Schmuck

***Emmett***

It’s Saturday, Halloween in fact, when I really feel it. Not the usual flutterings, but an all-out kick. “Sawyer! Hurry, come here!”

He rushes in, in his Hugh Hefner costume, full sprint. “Baby, what? What?”

I grab his hand and place it on my stomach. “He—she kicked. You have to—”

“Holy shit!” We smile at each other and fall into a fit of giddy, shocked laughter when the baby kicks his hand. Without moving, he goes to his knees. “Happy Halloween, no name.”

“Ah, no name, how sad.” I frown down at him. “We’re awful parents already.”

We wait, neither of us moving a muscle, for another kick…that doesn’t come. Halloween night will pack The K, so we’re forced to give up for now and head to work, Sawyer in his velvet robe, me, of course, in a bunny outfit. Guess who won the coin toss to pick our costumes.

Laney’s not old enough to help work, or even be in the bar, for that matter, but low and behold, she greets us as we walk in, dressed as a referee.

“It’s not a costume if you had the shit in your closet, Gidge,” Sawyer teases, lifting her off the ground in a hug.

“Hardy har har. I only had the shoes. And the whistle. You look cute, Emmett.” She tugs on my ear. “Lose a bet to Hugh here?”

I nod, tickled. “I need to hop to the bathroom before I get started. I’ll see you both later?”

“Yeah, right,” Sawyer scoffs loudly. “Laney, will you go to the bathroom with her? And who’s watching you? This place is crawling with horny college guys, ya’ll stay in sight and if you need to go to the bathroom or locker room, go in a pair.” He scowls back and forth between us. “I’m not kidding. Em, you take One tonight.”

He means Section One, the two straight rows of tables directly in front of the bar, where he’ll be. “Okay,” I smooch my lips and huff, wanting my kiss before I pee myself. When I get it, I grab Laney’s hand. “Seriously, I’ve gotta go. Come on, buddy.”

Thankfully there’s not a line yet at the public bathroom, the closest one to me, but by the time I use the bathroom, wash my hands and walk back out, at least a hundred people have packed inside—it was that quick.

“Dayummm,” Laney mutters, staring at the sea of bodies before us.

I mentally pep myself up, squaring my shoulders with resolution. “At least I’ll make great money! Let’s do this!”

***

When you wait tables in a bunny costume, you’re going to get hit on, I know this, but the comments are growing louder and more crude as the hour gets later. I handle it, in one bunny ear and out the other, always keeping a straight face, remarkably well, I’d say. Not only does a non-reaction discourage them, but it keeps Sawyer at bay.

He’s great behind the bar, but even better at never taking one eye off me. If he sees a strong reaction from me, he’ll know someone got too far out of line and be in their face before I can blink.

Knowing all this, I still let it happen.

On a night like this, faces blend together and all voices sound the same, everything an impatient yell over the music. Tables empty and fill without ever seeing the exchange. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, my calves ache, but I suck it up and work for the almighty dollar, eyes on the prize, the only constant awareness the beautiful man behind the bar.

So how I pick out one voice, I’ll never know. Apparently, I know the sound of trouble when I hear it.

“What time you get off, cottontail?”

I attempt to ignore him, emptying the tray as fast as I can and trying to scurry around the opposite side of the table, but he’s quicker, grabbing me around the waist and hauling me up against his front.

“I asked you a question.” He grabs my arm and spins me around, his nails digging painfully into my flesh causing my tray to crash to the ground. “You’re awful cute.” He’s too close to my face, his rancid breath reeking of the Jim Beam he’s been ordering all night, and I suddenly feel very nauseous.

“L-let me go,” I choke out past the bubble of fear and vulnerability caught in my throat.

“Let her go, man,” one of his friends tries to urge him, but it only seems to egg him on.

He leans in close to my throat and loudly sniffs all the way up it. “You smell awful sweet, think I need me a taste.”

“Em?” And this is when I really panic, because as relieved I am to hear Sawyer’s voice right beside me now, I know this is going to end badly. “Dude, you want to get your fucking hands off her?” Sawyer pushes on his forearm, but the guy doesn’t release me, rather firming his grip.

“Not really, friend. We’re getting to know each other. Aren’t we, sugar?”

I shake my head, my mouth opening and closing, trying to back away. “N-no, not at all.”

“Let. Her. Go,” Sawyer hisses at the man, his eyes glued to where the grubby, intrusive fingers sting my flesh.

“What’s the problem here?” Oh thank God, Dane’s here. He’ll ask him to leave, Sawyer won’t go crazy, and it’ll all be okay.

“No problem, man,” the guy answers Dane, finally letting go of me and putting up both hands in mock innocence. “Simply trying to talk to the pretty help ya got here. Think big boy there might be a little butt hurt, though,” he turns to his table of friends and grins evilly, “seeing as how his bitch wants me.”

“Dane,” Sawyer snarls, “I need you to take Emmett, now.”

“No!” I find my voice, loud and panicked. “Sawyer, no, it’s not worth it. Please.” I pull on his arm, turning to Dane. “Just kick him out, Dane, please.”

I’ve seen Sawyer’s passion, his love, his sweet, his gentleness…if his angry is backed with half as much power as his other emotions, this will not end well.

Sawyer and Dane share a look, as though I’m not even there, begging, and Dane gives him a curt nod. “Let’s go, Em,” he barks right before I’m scooped up in his arms.

I see Laney scrambling through the crowd, trying to catch us, and I call out to her. “Laney! Laney, help!” I point to where things are about to get very ugly, kicking and struggling against Dane. “Go get Sawyer!”

We whirl around fast and Dane screams at her. “Laney, no! Follow me, now, no questions!”

She looks to Sawyer, then me, back again, then finally to Dane. Nodding, she jogs to us, sheer terror on her face. “I’ve got her, baby, go help Saw,” she says, patting Dane on the back. “The other guy has friends.”

“And he’ll need every single one of them, I assure you.” He sets me down and places my hand in Laney’s. “Up to my office, door locked. Don’t test me, Emmett,” he points in my face, “and don’t fight Laney. Now go!”

We both jump at his harsh voice but immediately comply, Laney dragging me toward the stairs. I look back and start to cry; Sawyer’s already got one hand wrapped around the guy’s throat and is dragging him outside. All I can do at this point is pray Dane stops Sawyer short of killing him.

***Sawyer***

This piece of shit may not make it. Glaring at him, I see more than just his bad-mannered, prick self, but rather the manifestation of all the wrong that’s been done to Emmett at the hands of unmanly men. Her wide, terrified eyes were like windows, showing me that she too was thinking of a time when another man thought she was nothing more than a plaything.

He’s struggling against my grip around his larynx, using both hands to grab and pull at mine while his feet drag and try to gain leverage. Dane enters my vision from the side. “Sawyer,” he warns lowly. “Outside. I got the friends.”

No fucking shit. Where ya think I’m going?

I bash his forehead against the bar on the back door to open it, tossing him outside roughly. He’s not even off his back by the time I get my costume off—I’m not fighting in a fucking robe.

“Stand up!” I grab his collar and yank him to his feet. “That woman you put your hands on? That’s my woman, whom I love very much. She has rights. Who the fuck do you think you are?”