One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(102)

“Well, seems like your dad is the smarter parent.” Winking, Hayden flashes me that straight white smile, melting me with one look at a time. This is what I’ve missed the most. Yes, our chemistry was out of this world, but despite only knowing Hayden a short time, our friendship had been so effortless. I’ve missed him. Missed this. I like learning things about him, because I truly like the man.

“Okay, so tell me your favorite brother. This is all in the vault.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Giving me one last once-over, he deems me worthy of such private information and divulges one of his deepest, darkest secrets. At least that’s what I tell myself; it is for more of a dramatic effect.

“Favorite brother would have to be Halsey.”

I lean back, a little surprised by his confession. “Huh, I would have guessed you were going to say Holden.”

“Yeah, why’s that?”

“I don’t know. He’s more outgoing and fun. It seems like you would have had more good times with him growing up. Halsey is so reserved and quiet. Barely entertained unless on the rare occasion you can grab a little smirk from him.”

“That’s why I like him more. He doesn’t like someone to be nice. You have to earn his approval and when you do, he’s a good time, more so than Holden, because he comes without the asshole attitude. I love both brothers, but Holden can be a dick a lot, and that gets on my nerves after a while.”

I can see what Hayden is talking about. Holden can be obnoxious at times, at least from what I experienced, and for some reason, earning someone’s approval sounds more appealing to me as well.

“Do you think I earned Halsey’s approval?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Uh-oh, am I not going to like the sound of this?

“Umm . . . maybe?”

Chuckling, Hayden playfully tugs on my hair again and says, “He said you were cool.”

“Oooo, cool. Is that good?”

“It’s the first step to earning his approval.”

“Then I’ll take it.”

“Are you judging me for eating straight out of the carton?” I ask, a mouthful of lo mein about to be shoved in my mouth.

“Not even in the slightest. I think it’s cute.” Eyeing the other cartons, he says, “I wish I’d asked what you wanted beforehand, because I’m going to have a lot of leftovers, when I shouldn’t be eating all these leftovers.”

Playfully, I flip up the hem of his shirt, showing off his corded stomach and say, “Pretty sure your abs can handle it.”

He pushes his shirt down and takes mock offense. “It’s not polite to lift a man’s shirt when he’s eating.”

“Please,” I scoff, giving him a giant eye-roll. “With the kind of abs rubbing against that tight shirt of yours, you’re lucky I’m not making you eat with your shirt off.”

“Making me, huh?”

“Yeah.” I wave my chopstick at his body. “When a pregnant woman tells you to take off your shirt, you do it.”

Laughing, he reaches behind him, his hands posed below his neck, gripping onto his shirt. “Say the word, babe, and I’ll put on one hell of a show for you.”

“Don’t.” I shake my head and pat my protruding belly. “You’ll give me a complex.”

“Are you being serious right now?” Hayden’s features harden when he looks me up and down. “Adalyn, you’re gorgeous—”

“I don’t feel anywhere close to gorgeous.” I sigh. “And believe me, I’m not saying that to fish for compliments. Nothing fits anymore. I feel like I’m not pregnant enough to be cute, I just look super bloated.”

“You don’t look super bloated. You look sexy.”

That makes me laugh out loud, because the last thing I feel is sexy right now. I’m two forkfuls of lo mein from rolling down the elastic waistband of my jeans and calling it a night.

Setting down his carton of Chinese food, he dusts off his hands and scoots closer to me, taking my carton from me as well. Looking more serious than ever, Hayden says, “Touch me.”

“What?” I nervously giggle as he comes even closer, the crisp white of his shirt stretched across the expanse of his chest, his biceps framed under the fabric, enticing me.

“I want you to touch me, anywhere you want, just touch me.”

“Why?”

Scooting closer so now there is no room to retreat, he says, “I want to show you how unbelievably sexy you are to me. Despite what you might think, you’re drop-dead gorgeous, Adalyn, and the fact that you’re carrying my baby just heightens the need I have for you. So touch me. Let me show you.”

Trepidation steels my nerves, my hand shakes, and I’m unsure if I should touch him. This was not in the plans—or at least not in my plans—to be this close, to be sucked into the sensation of having him near me again.

Touch him. It seems like such a simple request, but behind the simplicity is a myriad of emotions waiting to consume me.

One touch. I know that’s all it will take to open up the floodgate of memories I shared with this man. Am I willing to risk the onslaught of emotion to follow?

“Touch me,” he repeats, his voice rumbling over me like a cloak of comfort, reverberating up my spine, sending my hand forward to his forearm.