Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
But now, suddenly, as I stare at my child, my flesh and blood, I know I made a terrible miscalculation. How did I not understand the unbreakable bond that was forged the instant that little angel came into the world with my DNA enmeshed in every fucking cell in her tiny body? That little person right there is mine, goddammit. And nobody, not Ralph Beaumont, or Aubrey Capshaw, not even Claudia Beaumont from the grave, can take her away from me, now that I’m realizing my fucking mistake.
As I’m standing frozen and mesmerized at the scene unfolding before me, the leggy brunette—Aubrey Capshaw, I presume—catches my gleeful daughter, scoops her up, and covers her in noisy, energetic kisses that elicit even more giggles from Raine.
“You’re fast, but I’m faster!” the brunette shouts playfully.
“No, I’m da fasty!” Raine shouts back, still giggling away.
“Oh, yeah? Show me, then!” Aubrey puts Raine down, and the pair repeats the same chasing exercise I’ve just witnessed, much to my grinning, teary-eyed delight.
I’m fixated on Raine, initially. For quite some time. But when my gaze eventually shifts to study Aubrey, it occurs to me she’s smoking hot. She’s got long, tanned legs. Shiny, flowing, dark hair. Smooth, glowing skin and a fresh-faced, girl-next-door kind of appeal that’s insanely attractive to me. I haven’t had sober sex yet. No sex at all for at least six months. And I’m suddenly feeling every minute of my celibacy.
Am I allowed to fuck my nanny/sobriety coach, or is that frowned upon?
I’ve no sooner had the thought than Aubrey’s eyes land on me—on the top half of my head that’s exposed to her over the wooden fence—and she screams bloody murder at the top of her lungs.
Chapter 5
Aubrey
Ralph Beaumont.
Holy fuck.
He’s here. In Prairie Springs. Claudia’s father has come to take Raine away from me, just like I’ve been petrified about, ever since that stupid, clueless detective left a message for him about Claudia’s accident.
These are my panicked, frenzied thoughts when I notice the top half of a male face—two blazing green eyes topped by a black, knit cap—spying on Raine and me from over my parents’ backyard fence. At the sight, a blood curdling scream lurches from my throat, prompting the man’s eyebrows to shoot straight to the edge of his knit cap.
As the scream leaves my mouth, it occurs to me the man looks quite a bit younger than Ralph Beaumont. Decades younger. Not to mention, he’s quite a bit taller than Claudia’s father, too, as I recall; unless that guy is standing on a step stool behind that wooden fence.
The realization that the stranger isn’t Ralph, after all, is a massive relief. But not a complete get-out-of-jail-free card for my nerves, since he’s still, nonetheless, a complete stranger who’s peeping at Raine and me over a fence. Hopefully, he’s nothing but a lost delivery guy or a neighbor with some wayward mail. But I pick up Raine, just in case, and hold her protectively to me. For all I know, Ralph sent this guy here to threaten me or otherwise try to pry Raine away from me.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the man murmurs in a low grumble that confirms he’s not, in fact, standing on a step stool. “Are you Aubrey Capshaw?”
“Who are you?” I ask defensively, squeezing Raine.
The man pauses. And then, on an exhale, he replies, “Caleb Baumgarten.”
My lips part in surprise. Raine’s accidental sperm donor, C-Bomb of Red Card Riot, is standing at my parents’ fence? Under any other circumstance, I’d probably feel a bit starstruck. But knowing he’s the selfish prick who hasn’t given a shit about his child for the past two years, makes disgust, rage, and fear my only possible emotions.
Surely, C-Bomb came here to strong arm me into taking Raine away from Prairie Springs, since that was a term of his agreement with Claudia. But guess what? I didn’t sign that thing, and I’d never sign a similar one. Prairie Springs is my home; and unlike Claudia, I love it here. Plus, C-Bomb’s got absolutely nothing I want, so he’s got zero leverage. I don’t want this man’s money. And I certainly don’t want to have sex with him. He was always Claudia’s celebrity crush, not mine. As this prick is about to find out, all I want is Raine and the freedom to raise her in Prairie Springs with my parents. And without him getting in our way.
“Can you come out here to talk to me?” he asks.
Poor Raine is shaking in my arms, thanks to my blood curdling scream. When the poor kid last heard me screaming, her mommy never came back home. And so, before I reply to the asshole drummer’s request, I hold up a finger to him, my body language telling him to hold on; and then, I put my forehead against Raine’s and whisper calmly that everything is all right.