The Polar Bear's Baby (Honeypot Babies Book 1) (8 page)

Mia
Seven Months Later

“It’s a girl!” The doctor says. His words are followed by the sound of crying, and I realize this is it. My daughter is here. She’s finally here.

After a quick, but wonderful wedding and several months of extreme emotional rollercoaster rides, she’s here.

My sweet baby is here.

“I knew it!” A voice cries from beside me and Richard squeezes my hand. Yeah, my brother helped me through my labor. It’s weird, but he was basically the best doula I could ever have asked for. All those counseling techniques and having people talk about their feelings? They totally work when you’re trying to birth a tiny shifter.

“Congratulations,” the doctor says, and he places my baby on my chest. I reach for her and touch her, barely believing the moment is finally here. My sweetie is here.

“She’s beautiful,” Aidan says from my opposite side, and I look up into my mate’s eyes, my husband’s eyes.

“We did it,” I say.

“You did it,” he corrects.

“I couldn’t have, not without you.” Damn. I told myself I wasn’t going to cry. I promised myself over and over again during the entire pregnancy. I said I wouldn’t cry. Then what am I doing? Crying.

As I look at my sweet little baby, I take in everything about her. She’s got soft skin and a mop of white-blonde hair, like Aidan. She’s going to look like him. She’s going to look like her daddy. Somehow, this pleases me more than if she’d come out looking like a carbon copy of me.

“She’s beautiful,” Aidan murmurs, gently rubbing her back. Our daughter stops crying at the touch and immediately relaxes.

“She’s perfect.”

“What name did you decide?” Richard asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Katie,” I say. “After Aidan’s stepmother.”

“She’s going to be thrilled,” Richard says, his eyes tearing just a little. If I didn’t know better, I’d say my big brother was turning into quite the softie. “I’ll go tell everyone,” he says, then slips out the door. We have a group of fans waiting in the labor and delivery waiting room down the hall. Aidan’s parents, his brother, and even Selena, the waitress from Bumble’s Diner, came to show their support.

He leaves, and even though the doctors and nurses are moving around us, making sure I’m okay, making sure Katie is fine, all I can see is Aidan.

All I can see is our family.

We made it. We made it and we have a baby girl. Our relationship may have started off wrong. Most people agree it’s best to date for a few years before deciding you want to get married and then having babies. Most people want to be older, more mature, more stable.

Somehow, we did everything backward and it all turned out okay.

“I love you,” Aidan whispers. He cups my cheek and leans down, planting a soft, gentle kiss on my mouth.

“I love you, too, bear,” I whisper.

He’s my everything: now and forever.

THE END

If you enjoyed this Honeypot story, you can read Selena’s story in
The Jaguar’s Baby.

Sophie Stern writes paranormal romance and contemporary erotica for readers who like to have fun and explore new worlds. When she’s not busy writing, you can find her pole dancing or reading zombie novels. Sophie lives with her ex-military husband who is always happy to help her conduct research for her books.

Find out more or at
www.sexysophiestern.com
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Want more Honeypot?

I have another series called
Honeypot Darlings
featuring the three Blair brothers.

Wyatt, Carter, and Micah are all different in their own ways, but they each share one very important similarity: they’re all bear shifters!

In
The Bear’s Virgin Darling
, Hope moves to Honeypot for a fresh start. She doesn’t expect anything, but a paycheck. Then she meets Wyatt and everything changes.

Here you can read the first
three
chapters of this book for free! If you prefer to jump right into the novel, you can get your own copy on Amazon
here.

***

Hope

Hope.

That’s my name.

My parents struggled for years to have a baby and then finally, they had me. They named me Hope to remind themselves that things can always get better. No matter how tough life gets, there’s always a way to make things better.

Always.

It doesn’t matter if you’re old or young or skilled or uneducated. No matter what you’re going through, you can get through it.

As I grip the steering wheel of my beat-up Saturn so hard I think my hands might bleed, their words run through my mind.

“Sorry, Mama,” I whisper. “There’s no hope this time.”

The highway is empty and I’ve been driving for hours. I still have at least two to go until I reach beautiful, isolated, far-from-home Honeypot, Colorado.

I don’t know a damn thing about the town except that it’s a 12-hour drive from my rink-a-dink hometown in Missouri and that I have a job interview with some ranch.

Like I know anything about ranching.

That doesn’t matter though. I learned this great skill in drama class called “fake it ‘til you make it,” and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Holbrook can kiss my ass and so can Jacob Clint. Did he really think I wouldn’t find out he was fucking my best friend?

Did
she
?

It’s been a month since I caught them fooling around, but the pain hasn’t dimmed. It took me a whole month to sell my stuff, give my landlord ample notice I was leaving, and set up this damn job interview.

I applied for a few gigs closer to home, but when I saw the posting for a ranch hand in Colorado, I couldn’t resist applying. I’m still shocked they liked my application. I’m still shocked they called me.

Granted, I could show up tomorrow and they might tell me to get lost, but it’s something new, something different, something brave.

It’s something to keep my mind off how badly my heart hurts.

I hope Jacob and Margaret are very happy together in hell.

I press the gas pedal a little bit harder.

I can’t wait to get to Nowhere, Colorado. Not too much further now. I blast my music and stare out the window, driving with one hand down the highway. My car is loaded with my life’s belongings. I sure as hell hope I get the job because if I don’t, I’m going to be stuck in Colorado with no house, no job, and no boyfriend.

Soon my stomach growls and I stop for a quick burger at a fast food place just off the highway. The only two things at the exit are a gas station and a fast food chain, so I eat my run-of-the-mill burger in silence, stretch my legs, and fill up the tank. My thoughts alternate between being horrified Jacob was the best I could do and being horrified that I won’t get the job.

I need the job.

Unfortunately, my thoughts are so focused that I don’t realize when the speed limit drops from 75 to 55 just outside of Honeypot. The sirens in the rearview mirror give me the notice and I growl in frustration as I pull over.

Dammit.

A ticket is
not
what I need right now. I barely have enough money saved for a hotel room while I’m in Honeypot. If I don’t get the job, or if I have a bunch of unexpected expenses, I will definitely be living out of my car.

This is a problem because my car is full of clothes, books, and trinkets I couldn’t leave behind.

Taking a deep breath, I place my hands on the steering wheel and wait for the officer to run my plates. I’ve never had a ticket before, but I’ve been pulled over, and I remember the cop explaining that he had to call in the license plate before he even came to speak with me.

After a few minutes, my heart finally begins to slow, and I realize that this was just an honest mistake. Besides, getting a ticket isn’t the worst thing that could happen to a girl like me. By the time the officer gets out of his car and walks toward mine, I’ve convinced myself that I’ll handle this like an adult.

I definitely
will not cry
in front of this stranger. Maybe I’ve been through a lot, but crying in front of strangers is definitely a hard limit for me. Unfortunately, as I begin to roll my window down – yes, my car is so old that I have to
roll
the window down – I catch a glimpse of the cop and he’s no tubby police officer.

No, this guy is tall, cut, and fit to be tied.

Dammit.

My mouth goes dry when he approaches and I’m very aware of the fact that I’ve been in a car all day and probably smell like stale French fries.

“Hello, ma’am,” the officer greets me, standing outside my window. He places one hand on top of my car and peers in the window at me. I swallow loudly as I stare at his aviators.

He’s so tall he almost has to bend in half to peek into my car. Suddenly, I wish I was wearing a low-cut shirt to give him a show. He smiles brightly, his perfectly white teeth shining in the evening sunset. And oh, is he filling out that uniform in all the right places.

“Fuck me,” I say out loud, and I immediately cover my mouth with my hand and start shaking my head. Shit! Shit. Shit. Shit. I did
not
mean to say that out loud. “I’m sorry,” I mumble, and look away, completely embarrassed. I can’t believe I just said that to a stranger.

To my surprise, the police officer doesn’t get upset, though. He just chuckles.

“New to the area?” He says, and I nod, but don’t say anything. “Well, do you know why I pulled you over?”

This is the part where I feign innocence. This is the part where I cry damsel, where I say that I just got out of a bad relationship and I’m trying to get a fresh start. This is the part where I say I didn’t know any better, where I missed the sign.

Only when he lowers his glasses and I see his deep brown eyes, I know I can’t lie to this cop.

Something tells me he’ll know whether I’m telling the truth or not.

Something tells me he doesn’t do lies.

“I was speeding,” I blurt out, and again, cover my mouth. What is with my bluntness around this guy?

He nods, and asks for my registration and driver’s license. I hand both over to him, cringing the entire time. He flips over my license and eyes my registration, then he asks me the question I’ve been dreading.

“And where are you headed, ma’am?”

I point to the exit that’s just up ahead, number 234.

“Honeypot,” I say. “I have a job interview tomorrow.”

“Is that so, miss?” He looks surprised, and I wonder why. I’m guessing not too many new people come to Honeypot. It’s basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by dense forests. The last exit was about ten miles back, so I’d say it’s pretty isolated.

“It’s not full of murderers, is it?” I ask him on a whim, wondering what secrets I’ll discover in the tiny town. “Because if you say it is, I’ll turn right on back around.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No murderers. No need to worry about that. Now, you just hold tight.” He heads back to his car and does something. I sit still, not bothering to play with my phone or pretend to listen to music. I don’t have anyone to text and I doubt I get cell service out here, anyway.

Lucky for me, dating Jacob really ruined my friendships, so I don’t have anyone to care that I’m gone. There’s no one to miss me, no one to call. Everyone hated him and when I was with him, I became this unrecognizable bitch. It was my own fault, but the truth still hurts.

Finally, the officer returns and gives me a ticket. He looks at me, all business, and tells me to slow down.

“Yeah,” I say, taking it glumly. I shove it in my glove compartment, along with my registration. My license goes back in my wallet. “I’ll do that.”

“Best of luck in Honeypot,” he says, trying to be friendly. I can tell he’s the kind of cop who takes pride in his work, who doesn’t give out tickets just to be mean. Still, it’s annoying he chose me to target for his ticket-writing today.

“Yeah. Thanks. I hear the Blair Ranch is beautiful,” I say, trying my best to stay calm. Don’t cry, Hope. Don’t think about how much this ticket is going to cost you, Hope. “Hopefully it’ll be everything it’s rumored to be.”

“The Blair Ranch?” He cocks his head, suddenly interested. His body is turned, like he’s going to walk back to his car, but he pauses, waiting to hear more.

“Yeah, I have an interview there tomorrow,” I say. I try not to meet his eyes. Those dark brown, beautiful, gorgeous, could-get-lost-in-them eyes are just too much. This guy must be drowning in pussy because he’s seriously hot. “I’m hoping I’ll get it,” I add, motioning toward the back of my car. “Obviously.”

He looks in the backseat, seemingly noticing the boxes for the first time.

“Is that so?” He says. I can’t tell if he’s curious, amused, or annoyed. This guy is completely unreadable to me, which is fine. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m only looking for a job and possibly a new vibrator if this town has a sex store, which I’m guessing it doesn’t, based on its current population size.

“Yeah, well, who knows how many people they interviewed?” I shrug. I really shouldn’t get my hopes up. “But the guy wanted to see me in person, so I guess that’s good, right?”

Why the hell am I talking so much? This poor cop doesn’t need to hear my life story or how nervous I am about the interview.

“Do you know Mr. Blair?” I ask. I’ve only ever talked with the guy through email. He could be a cranky old codger for all I know.

The cop nods. “I know him,” he says. “Wyatt is a good man.”

“No, my interview isn’t with Wyatt. It’s with Carter,” I say, remembering the unique name. Carter Blair. I wonder what Carter is like. Maybe he’ll be one of those friendly old guys who wants to tell me stories about the war or who just wants someone to read him the newspaper at breakfast. There’s always the chance he’ll be an asshole, old and crabby, but I’m trying to keep my hopes up as much as possible.

The cop laughs, and I look back up, meeting his eyes that time.

“Trust me,” he says. “You might be meeting with Carter, but Wyatt is the one you need to impress.”

“Any tips?” I ask him hopefully. Suddenly, getting a ticket doesn’t seem like the worst possible thing to happen to me today. Maybe the cop has some great insight I can use to ace my interview.

“Don’t put up with his crap,” the officer says. He doesn’t even have to think about it. “Stand your ground with him no matter what he says.”

“I thought I was supposed to kiss my new boss’ ass,” I tell him. “Isn’t that the secret to getting hired?”

“Not with the Blair brothers,” he tells me. “With them, you need to be firm. Show them they can’t boss you around. And a low-cut shirt won’t hurt. Have a good day, miss.” He tips his hat and leaves.

My jaw is on the floor, but for the first time this entire trip, I can see myself actually landing this job.

Be firm?

I can do that.

Don’t let them boss me around?

I can do that.

Wear a low-cut shirt?

I can
definitely
do that.

Honeypot, here I come.