Читать книгу Pregnant By Mr Wrong - Rachael Johns - Страница 11
ОглавлениеWhat the heck was Quinn doing on her doorstep on a Friday night? Bailey wondered. Didn’t he have someplace better to be? Like a bar, hitting on anything with a skirt.
Her heart thrashed wildly at the sight of him, wearing faded jeans, a long-sleeved white T-shirt and a leather jacket that should be an illegal combo where he was concerned. His hair was mussed up from his helmet, which only amplified his sex appeal. Her mouth went dry and her grip on the door loosened as he nudged it open again with his boot-clad foot and hit her with a smile that left her dizzy.
And what had he just said about a proposition? She couldn’t voice any of these questions because her tongue had tied when her eyes locked with his dark, dangerous gaze. Not dangerous because he would ever physically hurt her, but because when she looked into those big brown pools of seduction, it wasn’t only her heart that quivered.
And any kind of visceral reaction to this guy was a bad idea.
Yet here he was, standing before her looking hotter than any man should have a right to, and she was standing before him wearing her favorite old pj’s that had seen better days, feeling as if she might collapse from exhaustion at any moment. She hoped she didn’t have sauce on her chin from the pizza she’d all but scoffed.
Maybe this is a nightmare, she thought as her hand drifted up to wipe her face. Maybe in her early-pregnancy fatigue she’d come home, collapsed on the couch and fallen into a deep slumber that had led her straight to him. Since the news of the baby, her thoughts had never drifted far from him, no matter how much she tried to direct them elsewhere.
She pinched herself. It hurt, and Quinn frowned down at her odd behavior.
“Are you okay?” He reached out a hand and laid it gently on her arm.
Bailey flinched, not because it didn’t feel good—damn her hussy hormones—but because she couldn’t let down her guard. She and Quinn hadn’t spoken since that awful day after Thanksgiving, and she couldn’t think of any logical reason for his sudden appearance now. Unless...he knew.
Her errantly beating heart stopped altogether for a few long moments. A chill spread over her at this impossible thought. No. She hadn’t told anyone except the doctor in Bend (where she’d chosen to go in case anyone in Jewell Rock saw her at the hospital) and the local paper’s advice columnist. She thought of the letter she’d scribbled and hastily posted yesterday afternoon—Aunt Bossy might not even have it yet, and it certainly hadn’t appeared in the paper, so... She needed to take a chill pill before Quinn suspected something was off aside from the awkwardness that already simmered between them.
“I’m fine. You’re just the last person I expected to see.” She wrapped her arms tightly around herself and stared at him expectantly, trying to channel the look he’d given her when he’d all but thrown her out of the warehouse. “Did you say something about a proposition?”
“Are you going to ask me inside?”
She swallowed at the thought of being alone in her apartment with all six feet of Quinn McKinnel. He was without a doubt the sexiest of the five McKinnel brothers—that was quite a feat—and he knew it. From the way he swaggered when he walked, to the way he wore that leather jacket like leather had been invented for him, to the way he smiled at all the local ladies...he knew it.
Callum had always joked that whenever Quinn stepped into the tasting room at the distillery, their sales hit the roof. He just had to smile at a potential female buyer and they fell over their own feet in their hurry to buy McKinnel’s famed whiskey.
Maybe he’d changed his mind? Maybe he was looking for a hookup? Desire curled low in her belly at that ridiculous thought and she almost laughed out loud. He might be all about no-strings-attached sex—he’d made that clear in those few postcoital moments—but she could never be that girl. Especially not now there was another little person involved. Her hand went to her stomach instinctively; she didn’t even notice until his eyes followed it.
“Are you not well?”
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” She snapped her hand back and stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. The last thing she needed was one of her neighbors seeing him and starting rumors.
Quinn raised one sexy shoulder as he stepped inside and shut the door behind them. He was so close she could smell the well-worn leather of his jacket and just a hint of whiskey. All the McKinnels smelled of whiskey—not in an alcoholic I’ve-drunk-too-much kinda way, but in a way she guessed folks who worked and owned a distillery would. Quinn managed the warehouse, which, because he was hands-on in every aspect of his life, she guessed involved a lot of heavy lifting and manual labor, just one of the things that contributed to his muscular physique.
“Can I get you a drink?” she asked, trying to lure her thoughts from the way he’d been hands-on with her, and hoping he’d decline and simply get to the point about what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until the morning. Or couldn’t be conveyed in a telephone call.
He smiled. “You look tired. How about I make you a drink? What do you want? Coffee?”
Befuddled by his offer, she shook her head. “No, if I drink caffeine at this time, I’ll be up all night.” And I’m steering clear because of the baby. The last month had been torturous without her morning coffee hit, not to mention her midday and afternoon ones. Lack of caffeine on top of the dreaded morning sickness made every day difficult.
“I’ll see what I can find. You go sit.” And Quinn actually put his hands on her shoulders, swiveled her around and gave her a light push in the direction of her lounge room. Despite the layer of flannel protection, awareness skittered across her skin at his touch.
Bailey could already hear him clattering about in her tiny kitchen by the time she flopped down onto the couch. Her eyes landed on a pile of magazines on her coffee table—three copies of Vogue and one about pregnancy. Sheesh! She leaned forward, snatched up the magazine and shoved it under the cushion on which she sat. She’d picked it up yesterday on her lunch break and had been careful to keep it in her bag so no one at the hotel where she worked saw it, but she hadn’t considered the need to hide things in her own home.
As she took deep breaths in and out, she glanced around for anything else that might give her state away. Thank God the pregnancy test kit was long gone, and when Quinn saw the empty pizza box in the kitchen, he’d likely just think her a lazy glutton. If she didn’t slow down on the eating front, she’d be the size of a cow by the time this baby arrived.
She needed to spend less time eating and more time tidying her apartment, she thought as she took in the chaos around her. Her apartment, which was normally neat and ordered, was anything but that right now. Exactly like her life. How had everything gone so downhill so quickly?
Hopefully Quinn, who hadn’t been inside in a long while, wouldn’t notice anything amiss. Tapping her sock-clad feet on the carpet, she frowned as a noise like the blender started up in her kitchen. What on earth was he doing in there? While part of her wanted to get up and go check, her eyelids felt so heavy and the couch was too comfortable. She curled her legs up beside her and...
* * *
“He’s always working. He never wants to spend any time with me. We’re supposed to be getting married in under two months and he can’t even find the time to talk to me about it.” Bailey hated crying, hated sounding so needy, but now the words were spilling from her lips, and she couldn’t seem to stop them.
“He’s a fool,” Quinn said, sliding his hand up her neck and into her hair. He twisted her head so they were looking into each other’s eyes. The way he looked at her sent ripples of awareness through her, and for a second she forgot what she was so upset about. All she could think about was how close he was and how good he smelled.
“You’re gorgeous, Bails,” he whispered, his hot palm still resting against her bare neck. “Don’t let anyone ever make you feel otherwise.”
Her nipples tingled as she wished his hands on them, as well. Then, as if he were a genie granting her every desire, he leaned forward and kissed the lone tear that, in her rage and upset, had trickled down her cheek.
He pulled back, and their eyes met again as he licked his lips, tasting her on them. They stared at each other a few long moments, Bailey’s heart was pounding so hard she’d have sworn he could hear it, as well. And then he dipped his head and kissed her again. This time full on the lips. All notions of right and wrong flew out the window. All Bailey could think about was how amazing Quinn’s lips felt on hers.
He dropped his hands to her ass and pulled her tighter against him, kissing her like she’d only ever dreamed of being kissed. Having been neglected of late, her hormones stood to attention, begging her to up the ante and kiss him back.
A tiny voice in the depths of her mind tried to tell her that getting naked with him wasn’t a good idea, but Bailey ignored it, helping Quinn by shrugging off her jacket as he pushed it down over her shoulders. The blouse she’d been wearing for work came next. Their mouths parted as he whipped it over her head and she shivered momentarily as the cool evening air hit her skin.
Not a word was said between them. Not a thought to where they were and who might happen to stumble upon them. Instead, Quinn dipped his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth. Despite the lace of her bra, she bit down on a shriek as he twirled his tongue around her bud, the sensations shooting right to her core.
“God, Quinn.” She reached out to steady herself on his shoulders as he took her other nipple and gave it equal attention. With each flick of his tongue, he drove her a little more insane, a little more desperate. She wanted him, she needed him. Not just his mouth on her, but all of him, inside her.
She reached her hand out and slid it down the front of his trousers. He groaned as her fingers closed around the prize, his warmth and hardness only increasing her desire. She was wet for him, her knees shaking, her toes quivering and her breath coming hard and fast in anticipation.
He snapped his head back up and kissed her again, simultaneously raking her skirt up to her hips. Unsteady on her feet, she leaned back against a whiskey barrel for support and spread her legs, desperate for his touch. And Quinn gave her exactly what she wanted. He hooked one finger beneath her panties and slid the finger inside her. All it took was a few deft strokes and his mouth back on her nipple, and she was panting like she’d never panted before.
As the pressure built up inside her, all she could think about was having him. “Do you have a condom?” she whispered.
In reply, he conjured one out of his back pocket and held it up. Of course Jewell Rock’s chief Casanova would carry a condom. While she snatched the little foil packet and ripped it open with her teeth, Quinn yanked down his trousers. Smiling like someone about to win the lottery, she reached for his naked erection and rolled on the protection.
Then, also grinning, Quinn lifted her atop the barrel and removed her panties, dropping them to the floor beside them. Desperate, Bailey wrapped her legs around him and anchored her hands on his shoulders, her head falling back as he thrust into her.
* * *
“Bailey? Bailey?”
She blinked her eyes open and shook her head, shooting up into a sitting position at the sound of Quinn’s voice. He was perched on the edge of her coffee table, only a foot or so away from her, holding out a large glass with white liquid inside. How long had she been out cold?
Long enough to have a sordid dream.
Her cheeks burned and she hoped he couldn’t read her mind.
“What is that?” she asked, her tone perhaps a tad accusatory, but having Quinn so close set her on edge. Awareness and guilt warred within her.
“It’s a vanilla milk shake.”
“You made me a milk shake?” She couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice as she reached out to take it from him, careful not to let their fingers touch in the exchange.
He cocked his head to one side and smiled that toe-curling grin. “Well, you said you didn’t want coffee. I couldn’t find the ingredients for hot chocolate and you don’t like tea, but of course you had ice cream.”
“You remembered I don’t like tea?” The surprises just kept coming.
He nodded, his gaze trained on hers. “Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends remember each other’s likes and dislikes.”
She swallowed. Friends? Was that what they were? Friends with benefits? Friends who accidentally made a mistake and slept together? Friends who just happened to have conceived a baby?
“Thank you,” she managed and then took a sip of her drink. The cool sweetness slid down her throat. The man was not only hot and good in bed, but he could also make a mean milk shake.
“Did you make one for yourself?” she asked, leaning back into the couch, trying to look relaxed—even though she felt anything but.
“No. And I won’t keep you long. You look exhausted.”
“Jeez, thanks. Way to make a girl feel good.”
“Looking exhausted is not mutually exclusive to looking gorgeous, not where you’re concerned, anyway.”
Her insides heated at his compliment, but common sense immediately reminded her that sweet-talking was simply Quinn’s way. It didn’t mean anything. “Why are you here, anyway?”
He cleared his throat, and dammit, even that sounded sexy. “Well...um...” She’d never heard him sound anything but confident before and this stammering was strangely endearing.
“Yes?” she prodded, wishing he’d just spit it out and leave. Somehow, while she’d been dating and then engaged to Callum, she’d managed to control her attraction to his younger brother. But now that she and Quinn had done the horizontal mambo, she couldn’t be within twenty feet of him without remembering how explosive they’d been together. Even the thought of how he’d treated her afterward, even the thought of his baby inside her wasn’t enough of a cold shower.
“You probably know it’s my mom’s sixtieth birthday soon?”
“Of course.” Before she’d ended her engagement, Bailey had been trying to work out the perfect present for her future mother-in-law’s big six-oh, but now she wasn’t sure Nora would want anything from her.
“As you know, the last six months hasn’t been easy on her. Hell, it hasn’t been easy on any of us, but I don’t want to let this slide by without a celebration. My family’s all so busy with the building of the new restaurant and Callum’s expansion plans that I was wondering if you would organize a party for her?”
He didn’t mention his dad’s death in the equation, but Bailey suddenly wondered if grief over the shocking loss of his father was part of the reason Quinn had broken the rules and slept with her. Maybe none of them had been thinking straight.
When she hesitated, he added, “We’d pay you, of course. I just want to do something really special for Mom.”
She’d been going to refuse, but his heartfelt words and obvious love for his mother got to her. And, if she were honest, surprised her. Also, this was the grandmother of her baby they were talking about. She felt guilty enough about her secret, but, even if she did come clean eventually, right now it was too soon after she and Callum had broken up. She needed time to get her head around this situation herself and didn’t want to be the cause of family disharmony, so perhaps the least she could do was help make Nora’s birthday special.
“And,” Quinn continued, sounding like a salesman who thought he was in danger of losing a sale, “it’ll be a chance for you to show the others your impeccable talent for creating magical events. That way, when the restaurant opens and we start holding functions at the distillery, everyone will be more favorably disposed to throw the business your way. I know you were interested in the McKinnel event contract.”
She was interested in working with the famed McKinnel distillery—was, as in past tense, pre-baby. Now she wasn’t so sure working in such close proximity to Quinn was a good idea. He did crazy things to her insides. Then again, just because he’d approached her, just because he’d be paying the bills for the birthday bash, didn’t mean they’d need to spend much time together. Attending parties might be Quinn’s thing, but he generally left the organizing to others.
“Okay. What kind of event were you thinking?”
He slowly shrugged those big sexy shoulders and she tried not to stare. “Intimate but special. A few of her closest friends and family. A band, maybe a small dance floor. I was thinking we could hire a small marquee and hold the party at the distillery. If it’s still cold, we’ll also hire some heaters for the marquee. I’m sure Lachlan would be interested in catering and testing out some of his new recipes.”
“You haven’t asked him yet?”
He rubbed his lips one over the other. “I wanted to run the idea past you first.”
“Why me? There are other event planners in the vicinity.”
“Because you’re the best.”
The way he said best, and the way he stared intently at her as he did so, wreaked havoc with her already errant hormones. It was almost as if he wasn’t simply referring to her work, but that thought was ridiculous. She tried to push it out of her mind.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she joked.
His lips curled into another grin. “Is that a yes?”
She nodded while silently questioning her sanity. “Have you decided on a date yet?”
“How about we meet for lunch tomorrow and talk details then? You can tell me what else you need from me to get started.”
Lunch? He sounded like he might be a whole lot more involved in the planning than she’d imagined. Her stomach flipped at the thought of spending too much time with Quinn, but maybe working with him to organize this party would help her body and her hormones settle down. Because if she did tell him about the baby, they’d be linked forever and she’d need to be able to talk to him about their child’s welfare without harboring a head full of dirty thoughts.
“Sure, lunch sounds great. Why don’t we meet in Bend and we can choose a theme and then go to the stationers to select the invitations.” Needing to keep in control of this situation, she made it sound like a statement, not a question. If they met in Bend, it would also be less likely that they’d be seen together by someone who knew them.
“I’ll swing by and pick you up on my way.”
“No.” That would make it more like a date—not that Quinn McKinnel did dating, but she needed to protect her own emotions. And being squished against Quinn on the back of his motorcycle would be like throwing her emotions to the piranhas. This was purely a business deal. “I’ll probably do some shopping before or after.” She named a lesser-known café in Bend and a time.
For a moment Quinn looked as if he might argue about not picking her up, but in the end he conceded. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pushed himself off the coffee table and towered above her. Lord, he was tall—all the McKinnels were tall and good-looking, but if they were giving out awards, he’d win.
She put down her milk shake and went to stand.
“No, don’t get up.” He put out a hand to stop her. “I’ll see myself out. You get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Too tired to fight, Bailey let Quinn go and thankfully fatigue consumed her so that she fell asleep quickly and didn’t have time to worry or think about Quinn, the baby or what she’d just agreed to do.
* * *
“Well, hello there.” Callum looked up from behind the tasting bar as Quinn strolled toward him. He had the smug smile on his face—the smile that had been permanently in place since he’d shacked up with Chelsea—and Quinn guessed that one word about the baby would wipe it off. He’d have to tell his brother eventually, but announcing he’d gotten Bailey pregnant was probably not the smartest news to divulge when she hadn’t even told him yet.
Especially as he was still coming to terms with it himself.
Usually, he’d still be in bed at this time on a Saturday morning, but he hadn’t been able to sleep, his head too full with thoughts of Bailey, thoughts of a baby and thoughts of whether or not he really had it in him to be the type of dad he wanted to be.
“We don’t usually see you round here on the weekend,” Callum said as he rubbed at a smudge on the bar with the cuff of his shirt.
Since the warehouse shut down on the weekends, Quinn got Saturdays and Sundays off, whereas Callum and his other siblings who worked at the distillery—Sophie and Blair—worked pretty much 24/7. But that was their choice; he wasn’t going to be made to feel guilty about his. Their dad had been a workaholic (among other things) and in no way did Quinn want to emulate him. Ever since he was sixteen and walked in on his dad fucking a woman who wasn’t his mom, Quinn had vowed to never be like his father. But, in sleeping with Bailey, who hadn’t been available at the time, he’d been just like him.
And now they both needed to face the consequences.
“Is Sophie around?” he asked, ignoring his older brother’s observation.
“She’s grabbing coffees,” Callum said, jerking his thumb down the corridor in the direction of their small staff kitchen.
Before Quinn could say anything more, their sister appeared carrying two steaming mugs. Although she looked surprised to see him, unlike Callum she didn’t verbalize this surprise.
“Hey.” She handed Callum his coffee and then stretched up on tippy-toes and kissed Quinn on the cheek. “How are you today, brother mine?”
He forced a smile. “I’m surviving. And you?”
“Much the same. What brings you in here?” she asked, not sounding accusatory in the slightest.
“I wanted to let you guys know I’m organizing a surprise party for Mom’s sixtieth.”
“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea.” The smile on Sophie’s face showed her approval.
Callum raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t think to run this by the rest of us first?”
“I’m telling you now,” Quinn said, knowing his brother was only annoyed because he hadn’t been the one to think up the brilliant idea. “I’m also telling you that I’ve commissioned Bailey Sawyer to plan it for me.”
Sophie blinked at this news and Callum’s eyes looked positively dark.
Before either of them could say anything, Quinn spoke again. “You know she’s good and we agreed to throw some of our new event business her way. I thought this was as good a place as any to start. I’m meeting her for lunch later today, so let me know if you have any special requests for the party and I’ll pass them on.”
At that moment the door opened and their first customers waltzed in, bringing a gush of cool winter air with them. Their eyes lit up at the sight of the log fire crackling in the middle of one wall, and Sophie went over to greet them.
“Welcome to McKinnel’s Distillery,” she said in her eternally friendly tone. “Cool day out there. Warm yourselves by the fire and allow me to fetch you a taste of our finest bourbon to heat your insides.”
“What game are you playing at, Quinn?” Callum asked, his voice low as Sophie wooed the gray-haired couple.
Truth was, Quinn didn’t know what game he was playing at—he was making it up as he went along. Last night, when he’d stormed over to Bailey’s place, the last thing he’d expected was to ask her help to throw a party, but then she’d looked so tired and vulnerable, and something inside him had shifted. A party for his mom had been the first excuse that came into his head when she’d asked why he was there.
He held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to do something special for Mom.”
Callum’s expression said he didn’t buy this excuse for one second. Well, Quinn didn’t care—as long as Bailey did. He needed to spend as much time as possible with her. He needed to win her trust and respect so that she would feel comfortable inviting him into her life—and their baby’s.
“Are you interested in Bailey?”
Quinn crossed his arms and tried to ignore the guilt he felt at Callum’s accusatory tone. “What if I was?”
“I’d tell you to be careful,” Callum replied, his serious eyes meeting Quinn’s.
He couldn’t tell if his big brother was warning him off for his well-being or for Bailey’s; probably the latter, but either way he could take a hike. Callum had had a chance with Bailey and he’d blown it—if he hadn’t made her feel so alone and unloved, she wouldn’t have come crying to Quinn in the first place. But he had and she did.
Now Callum was with Chelsea, and Bailey was Quinn’s business—even if no one knew it yet.
“You worry too much,” Quinn said, reaching out and patting Callum patronizingly on the chest. Inside he didn’t feel so light and carefree, but he played the part expected of him. “You should be putting all your energies into your gorgeous future wife.”
The fight in Callum’s eyes dimmed at the mention of Chelsea, and Quinn took the chance to escape. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.”
Callum opened his mouth as if to state his objections, but Quinn walked away, knowing that Callum would never make a scene when they had customers. “Bye, Sophie.” He waved as he headed for the door, then stepped out into the chilly morning air and strode over to his bike.
Next stop was his mom’s house, only a short distance from the actual distillery, also on their family’s estate. He’d lived there with his parents and all six of his siblings growing up, but now his dad was gone and only two of his brothers still lived at home. Lachlan had moved back in with his newborn son years ago when his wife had left them. Mom loved having her grandson under her roof, and Lachlan had been grateful for her help. Blair had moved home two years ago when he’d split with his wife, who’d also been his high school sweetheart. Although he kept making noises about moving into a place of his own, Quinn reckoned he liked Mom’s home cooking too much.
He parked his bike out front, hooked his helmet on the handlebars, walked the small distance to the house and let himself inside. The smell of blueberry pancakes hit him immediately, and his stomach growled in enthusiastic anticipation.
“Looks like I arrived just in time,” he said as he entered the big, country-style kitchen to find his mom laying the pancakes on the table. Lachlan and his son, Hamish, sat at the other end playing chess.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Nora said as Quinn hugged her. “Has your stomach got some kind of homing beacon on it?”
He laughed and then went over to ruffle Hamish’s hair. “Hey, dude, how’s it hanging?”
“Hi, Uncle Quinn.” Hamish’s words slurred slightly as usual. “I’m beating Dad at chess. Want a game?”
Quinn’s heart swelled with love and pride for his nephew, who, with cerebral palsy, hadn’t had an easy time in his short life but was always happy and positive. A lot of that was to do with his dad; none of the credit could go to his mother, who hadn’t been able to handle a special-needs child.
“Why not?” he said. “But I warn you, I’m worse than your father.”
“Hey!” Lachlan objected, a grin on his face. “Anyway, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
As his mom had turned back to the stove, Quinn moved closer to his brother and whispered, “I want to talk to you about Mom’s birthday. Where’s Blair?”
“In the shower, then I think he’s heading over to the distillery to run a tour.”
Quinn devoured four pancakes, chatted to his mom, brother and nephew about stuff Hamish was learning at school, lost a game of chess, and then stood and made his excuses. “I’ve got to head into Bend for a meeting. I’ll catch you all later.” He made eye contact with Lachlan, indicating he should see him out.
“You’ve got a meeting?” Nora asked.
He smiled at her. “Don’t sound so surprised.” Then he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead, before exiting the kitchen.
Lachlan followed. “I’ll see Quinn out,” he called over his shoulder.
Once they were safely outside, Quinn relayed his party plans.
“That’s a great idea,” Lachlan said, not making any comment about Bailey’s involvement. “And of course I’ll cater.” He had that gleam in his eyes he got whenever he was talking about food, and Quinn could tell he was already conjuring up a menu. “So that’s what your meeting is about? You’re seeing Bailey?”
Quinn nodded once and hoped Lachlan didn’t notice his Adam’s apple move slowly up and down. He felt bad lying to Lachlan, although technically he wasn’t. “Can you fill Blair in when you see him? I’ll try to catch Annabel this afternoon.”
“I’m glad you’re getting her involved.”
“Who? Annabel?” Of course he’d include their sister in any decisions.
“No, idiot. Bailey.”
“Ah. Right.”
“She’s been such a big part of the family for so long, even before she and Callum were together, that it seems wrong not to have her around anymore. Callum’s moved on and it was her decision to end things, so I’m just hoping everything won’t have to change too much. Hamish misses her, our families are so linked, and I think hiring Bailey to help is a good plan to fix any rifts caused by her breaking up with Callum. Is she cool with helping now Chelsea is on the scene?”
Quinn had no idea what Bailey thought of Callum’s new fiancée—their night had happened before all that and he’d steered clear of her since—but he guessed Chelsea was the least of her problems now. “Yes, seems to be. Bailey’s a professional.”
Lachlan nodded. “Yes, you’re right. She is.”
For a moment Quinn considered confiding in his brother—he and Lachlan had always been closer than he and Callum, and as Lachlan was a dad, he’d be more likely to understand the mixed feelings consuming Quinn right now. Panic, guilt, anger—he had them all. He wanted to ask how Lachlan had felt when he’d first discovered his ex-wife was pregnant. If he’d ever doubted his abilities as a father. If he instinctively knew what to do when his babies were first placed in his arms. If there was any parenting how-to book he absolutely should buy.
But he swallowed his questions, summoned a carefree grin onto his face and punched Lachlan playfully on the arm. “We’ll chat soon and Bailey will probably be in contact, as well.”
“Okay, I’ll look forward to it.”
As his brother slipped back inside the house, Quinn wondered how Bailey had managed to keep her pregnancy a secret so far, because he’d known less than twenty-four hours and was already desperate to confide in someone.
