One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(101)

Although, the people closest to Scott Eastwood must think the same thing.

“Would you like anything to drink?”

“Water is great,” I call over my shoulder, spotting my apartment. “I didn’t realize how close you were to me. You can see my place from here. You know, I could have walked here.”

That statement makes Hayden laugh, deep and throaty . . . and oh so sexy. “Adalyn, I didn’t even want you waiting outside after I realized what an idiot I was being. Do you really think I would want you to walk here, in the dark? Yeah, not happening and don’t attempt it, or I’m going to be really mad at you.”

“It’s a nice area, Hayden.”

Coming up behind me, he hands me my water and places his hand on my hip. Possessive, marking his territory, even though it’s just us in his apartment. It’s as though no time has passed, and it’s simply how we stand when close to each other. Easy.

“I don’t care.” His thumb rubs across my side, silently letting me know he’s looking out for me.

“This place is beautiful,” I say, taking in the room. “So open and airy. And the ceilings, they’re so high. Who knew apartments could feel so big?”

“I wanted to get you a better place, Adalyn, but your budget—”

I silence him with my hand to his lips. “I love my apartment, and it’s perfect. I was just admiring yours.”

Eyes softening, he lightly kisses my fingers and then links them with his. He brings me to the couch where we both take a seat, facing each other. Hayden’s large arm, defined and full of rippling sinew, spans across the back, his hand toying with a strand of my hair. Our propped-up knees knock against each other, our bodies are close, but still a reasonable distance for a conversation.

“Out of your brothers, who’s your favorite?”

“What?” I laugh, surprised by his question.

“You have to have a favorite. Hell, I have a favorite brother and mine are twins.”

“I understand the question, I’m just confused where it came from. I figured you would ask how I am, how the baby is or something like that.”

Becoming serious, Hayden says, “I love that baby growing inside of you with everything in me, Adalyn, but you are more than a vessel carrying my baby around. I want to know more about you.”

A little surprised, it takes me a second to gather myself. This is why I haven’t been able to erase Hayden from my life . . . from my heart. Because just when I think I can do it, that I’m strong enough to put distance between us, he says things like that, pulling me right back in, firmly planting himself in my life. Because he cares for you, Adalyn. He never stopped.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Favorite brother, huh? Hmm, that’s hard since I have so many, but if I had to choose one of them, I would probably go with Patrick. He’s closest in age to me, and growing up, he’s who I played with the most. He’s the one I stay in contact with the most. Plus it helps that I like his wife the most. She’s fun, and when we first met, she made it known she was here and sticking around so no need to try to weed her out. She’s a tough cookie and takes a lot from the family. She tells us to fuck off when she wants to but is so incredibly loving.”

“Sounds a lot like someone I know.” Hayden tugs on the strand of hair he’s playing with.

“I guess we are a lot alike. What about you? Who’s your favorite brother?”

Before he answers, he eyes me up and down. “Does this stay in the vault?”

“The vault?”

“Yeah”—he nods—“the vault. Does this stay between us and only us? Once the words are uttered out of my mouth, you have to keep them to yourself, locked up in the vault.”

“Ah, I see. You don’t want me telling your brothers you have a favorite.”

“Exactly. Because, believe it or not, they’d never let me live it down, and that is something I really don’t want to live through. They know me as loving them equally, just like all parents apparently love their children equally.”

“Load of crock.” I tap his knee and lean forward as if telling a secret. “My dad says I’m by far his favorite, which makes complete sense because my sister has always been quiet and at times aloof, independent, and of course, all my brothers are numbskulls. But when it comes to my mom”—I shake my head in disappointment—“Shane is her favorite.”

“Shane?”

“Middle kid. He’s her project.”

“What do you mean by that?” A small chuckle pops out of that enticing mouth of his.

“Starting as a teenager, he’s always been ‘lost’ and my mom has made it her mission to help him find his way.”

“As every good parent should.”

I grip his arm for emphasis. “I think so too, don’t get me wrong, but when your mom goes to your college classes with you, there’s an issue.”

“Oh fuck, did she really?” The curve of his smile brings out the joy inside me. It relaxes me, helps me forget about everything else and enables me to focus on one thing: the man in front of me. The man who looks at me as if I’m his world. As if every word from my mouth is vital to him somehow. The man I wished could be mine.

“I wouldn’t lie to you. She wouldn’t have done that with any of her other kids. She’s a total Shane fan.”