One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(10)

How could I not?

Chapter Four

HAYDEN

I don’t normally do this, which I’m sure guilty people say all the time, but I’m being completely honest.

I REALLY don’t do this.

But after a few days of having dreams about Adalyn every night, I’m desperate. I want to get to know her better, you know, as friends.

At least that’s what I’m going to tell Racer if he catches us. That’s if I can find her.

She seems like a great friend, someone I want on my side, a confidant I not only need in my life but also want in my life. How can Racer be mad about that kind of response?

He can’t.

And it’s not like I want to take her back to the cottage, bend her over the couch, and fuck her till morning. I mean, that would be amazing, but right now, I just want to get to know her better. I barely spoke with her at the get together the other night. I felt cheated of an opportunity.

That’s why I’m visiting my second hospital in the area, hoping to find Adalyn working.

I told you, I’m desperate.

Locking my car, I stroll into the main entrance of the hospital. There’s a gift shop to the left chock-full of every occasional greeting card, balloon, and candy bar you can think of. To the right is a small waiting room with two people bent over, scrolling through their phones. It’s quiet with a sterile feeling floating through the air. I can see why Adalyn wished she had a different job.

Walls coated in brown and mauve hues, floors off-white, speckled with multiple colors, the entire entryway depressing, the only bright color in the space is the red lipstick on the receptionist sitting at the front desk.

Making my way to the front, I pull her attention away from a crossword puzzle and clear my throat. “Hi, I was wondering if, uh, Adalyn was working today.”

“Adalyn?” The girl looks me up and down, suspicion oozing from her. “Adalyn . . . who?”

Shit. I’m pretty sure saying Adalyn with the brown hair and killer legs will not go over well.

I decide to go a different route.

“You don’t know Adalyn? The nurse with brown hair and, uh . . . long legs.” I wince. “Really sweet and has a friend named Racer.”

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Harassing employees is not tolerated.”

“I’m not harassing—” I wipe my hand over my face, my shoulders tensing, eyes closed for a brief moment. “I’m trying to find a friend, that’s all.”

“If you were friends, you’d know more about her than her hair color and leg length. So I’m going to ask you again to leave before I call security to remove you.”

“Is this how you treat all of your patrons? What if I needed Adalyn to assist me with a splinter in my hand? Or something like that.”

Help me with a splinter? I couldn’t have come up with something a little more interesting than that? Something that doesn’t affect every five-year-old out there.

“If you do have a splinter that for some off-chance you can’t take care of yourself, you are more than welcome to sit in the emergency room for hours only to pay a hefty bill for a nurse to pull it out with tweezers you can get from a drug store for two dollars.”

“You know what?” I ask, pointing at her.

“What?”

“You . . . you have an attitude, and it’s not a pretty one.”

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Stoic, brewing, I’m sure preparing herself for an all-out tongue-lashing on my end. I don’t know what’s come over me, picking on receptionists because they don’t happen to know a nurse by the name of Adalyn in a giant hospital.

She blinks once. Twice. Opens her mouth and—

“Hayden?” I turn my head to see Adalyn walking down the hallway with another female nurse, holding a brown lunch bag to her chest.

“Adalyn.” I heave a sigh of relief.

Maybe too much relief because her brow creases as she comes up to me, telling her coworker she’ll catch up with her later. “Are you okay?”

“He has a splinter,” the receptionist deadpans, going back to her crossword puzzle.

“A splinter?” Adalyn’s nose scrunches up. “You came to the hospital because you have a splinter?”

“No.” I grumble. “I came to . . .” The receptionist pulls her attention away from her crossword and stares down our little conversation, leaning in. “You’re being fucking nosey, don’t you think?” My temper is starting to get the best of me.

“You’re standing in front of my desk, therefore I’m allowed to listen to anything you’re saying.”

She has a point.

Stepping to the side and bringing Adalyn with me, I put space between the snarky receptionist and us.

“Where’s your splinter?”

“I don’t have a splinter. I just said that to . . . to . . . hell.” I pull on the back of my neck. “I don’t know why I said that.”

“Then why are you here? Do you need help finding someone?”

“Well, I did need help finding someone, but I found her.” Smile, keep eye contact, make her see how interested you are.

“Are you being corny and implying I’m the one you wanted to find?”

“Are you being lippy when I came all the way out here to bring you . . .” Fuck, I didn’t bring her anything. I reach into my pocket, rooting around and pull out my ChapStick. “To bring you this ChapStick. Jesus, how fucking rude.”