One Baby Daddy (Dating by Numbers #3)(49)

“Oh that was smooth.” Rachel slow claps. “Well done, Adalyn, well done. She’s a keeper, Hayden, so don’t fuck it up.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

No way will I fuck this up.

Chapter Thirteen

ADALYN

“Ughhhhh, I’m dying,” I moan when I open the door to the bathroom.

The shower didn’t help. Brushing my teeth didn’t help, and the four Ibuprofens I took with a full glass of water when I woke up are not helping.

“I’m sorry, baby. You can seriously stay here. I’ll order you some greasy room service, and you can sleep some more while I’m at my photo shoot.”

Unlike me, Hayden is bouncing back from last night as if he had half a tablespoon of alcohol, got a full ten hours of sleep, and happened to have time to wear a homemade mud mask at the same time.

None of that is the truth.

In fact, we got back to the hotel at two in the morning, dragged our bodies into our room, and passed out. Hayden woke up at five, went for a run, did some kind of crazy workout routine, took a shower, and is now handsome as ever with his unfazed skin, eight-pack abs, and minty-fresh breath.

Meanwhile, I’m over here looking like I’ve been dragged behind a subway car for five stops and then picked apart by sewer rats . . . and this is after a shower.

How can he possibly look at me and think, oh yes, this woman, this woman right here is who I want to take to my photo shoot?

He’s insane.

He’s crazy.

He’s infatuated with me.

And it’s the only reason I’m currently slipping on my white Keds and linking my fingers with his. “Take me to the photo shoot. I want to see you in underwear.”

Chuckling, he says, “I can show you what I look like in underwear in private.”

I wave him off. “It won’t be the same. You’ll be under all those lights, oiled up, and posey. I can’t miss that. Plus, what if you need a fluffer? I’m not going to let any other lady touch your penis.”

We’re halfway to the door when he stops his pursuit. “Uh, what are you talking about? There are no penis shots.”

“No? So this is like a David Beckham-type underwear ad?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “What were you thinking it was? Because from the sounds of it, you were thinking this was X-rated.”

I shrug my shoulders. “Hey, I don’t know what you do to make a buck. I’m not judgey here, I just don’t want other women touching your penis.”

“Well, you have nothing to worry about. There will be no touching of my penis by anyone else but you.”

We take the elevator to the main lobby where there is a car waiting for us by the curb.

“Funny you say I’m the only one who will be touching your penis, especially since I have yet to fully wrap my fingers around it.”

“Maybe you should try harder.” He holds the door to the car open for me, a giant small on his face.

“Try harder?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, okay. Be careful what you wish for there, Holmes. I’m feisty, and you just tested me.”

“You must be Adalyn.” A suave-looking man in a tailored suit walks up to me. Slicked-back hair, freshly shaven face, and a powerful cologne advertising the man has made money.

My guess, he’s made money off athletes like Hayden.

A Jerry McGuire-type, but a little more . . . sleazy-looking.

“And you must be James, the publicist.” I lend out my hand and he takes it, placing a kiss across my knuckles.

Okay, not Jerry McGuire, more Philip Stuckey from Pretty Woman, but with a full head of hair.

“Hayden must have told you about me. I hope it was all kind.”

Taking my hand back, trying not to wipe my knuckles on my shirt to rid of the feeling of his lips on my skin, I shrug. “Could have been kind, could have been irritated. Something about asking him if he’s bloated?”

James grips his tie, shuffling it back and forth on his neck. “Got to make sure my boys are in top form. During the off-season, some of them let themselves go and forget about the photo shoots we have lined up.”

“Well, nothing to worry here, as Hayden is in top form.” I wink and scan the room, looking for the man of the hour. He’s been in “hair and makeup” for what seems like an hour. What could they possibly be doing to primp him?

“They’re spray-tanning him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Hmm, I don’t like that this dude can read my mind. It ups the level of his skeeze factor.

“Spray tan, huh, I guess that makes sense. He is a bit on the paler side, still hot though.” Looking James up and down, I ask, “Have you seen his eight-pack? Yummy, right?”

His brow pulls together. “Well, I wouldn’t necessarily say yummy, but yes, the man has a nice stomach.”

“Not just stomach, James. Abs, the man has abs.” I pat his arm.

“Yes.” He drags out the word, looking me up and down. He’s suspicious. I can see the assessment he’s making of me, the first judgment.

And I’m not looking my best, that’s for damn sure. I’ve seen better days. Pretty sure I still have a little bit of mascara residue under my eyes from last night. My wet hair is in the midst of air-drying, and I’m dressed in jeans and one of Hayden’s T-shirts. The only thing holding me together right now is the Egg McMuffin we had on the way here and the venti coffee gripped in my hand.