Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 231(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
“Okay, so like I said, I want your sperm. Specifically, I want you to be my sperm donor.”
My brows shot up in surprise, but I didn’t respond. So she did want sex, but she wanted me to get her pregnant? That wasn’t just a no. It was a hell no.
“I know your instinct is to say no and leave,” she continued, passing me a black binder that was sitting on her side of the booth by her coat. “But please take a look at this. I’ve laid out all the relevant information. My financials, my parenting philosophy, the contract I had drawn up. And of course, you should have your own attorney look it over—at my expense, of course.”
I gaped at her, still confused and wondering what the hell was happening.
“Why you?” she asked, straightening her glasses on her nose. “That’s what you’re thinking, right? Why didn’t I just go to a sperm bank and search the available donors and use one of them?”
Actually, I was thinking I wanted to get the hell out of here and get a stronger drink. But Shelby was looking at me so earnestly that I couldn’t admit it.
“I…guess, yeah,” I said instead.
Her expression brightened. “I did look into existing donors, but I also cross-referenced them with every Most Eligible Bachelor list I could find for the past year. Obviously, I can’t ask a married man to donate his sperm. I want someone who is athletic, to counterbalance my complete lack of athleticism. I confined my parameters to men who still have two living parents for genetic reasons. And, Beau…” Her eyes implored me as she spoke. “In every article I read about you, your teammates and coaches said you’re always in a good mood. A great friend. Reliable. You’re smiling in literally every picture of you online, and there are two thousand one hundred ninety of them, as of last week. Those are qualities I want in my child.”
I don’t know whether I’m flattered or freaked out by the amount of research she did on me. One thing I do know, though, is that I’m not giving her—or anyone else—my sperm.
“You’re about to bolt,” she said, apparently reading my expression. “And I get it. I honestly do. All I ask is that you take the binder. I wrote you a letter and included my contact information. There’s also the address of a restaurant in there that I’m hoping you’ll meet me at for lunch next week so you can ask me any questions you have.”
I picked up the binder and gave her a polite nod. “I’ll take a look.”
When I stand up, she slides out of the booth to stand next to me.
“All I’m asking for is a chance,” she says. “Just a chance to tell you more about who I am and why this would mean everything to me.”
I gestured at Colby, who was surrounded by women on the other side of the bar. “I have to go join my friends now. But I’ll take a look.”
“Thank you,” she said, giving me a hopeful smile.
I walked across the bar, beer in one hand and binder in the other. When Colby spotted me, he gave me a confused look.
“You doing some homework?” he asked.
I glared at him, no longer in the mood to be in the spotlight that was Mountain Top after a game. Later on, I’d tell Colby I’d not only signed a bunch of boobs tonight, I’d also been asked to father a child.
But for now, I just wanted to finish this beer, followed by a few more.
CHAPTER THREE
Shelby
“But he didn’t say no, right?”
Marlowe gave me an encouraging look as she passed me a glass of wine and sat down on the other end of my couch.
“He didn’t have to say it. It was all over his face.” I took a sip of the wine and made a face. “This tastes terrible.”
“Red wine is an acquired taste.”
I put my glass on a coaster on the coffee table. “I don’t think I want to acquire it.”
“We have to find a way to loosen you up, Shelby. Alcohol will help.”
“I don’t want to loosen up. I just want to have a baby.” I curled up on my end of the couch, still feeling dejected from my conversation with Beau three nights ago.
I knew it sounded crazy. How could a stranger approach someone and ask for their sperm and have it sound anything but crazy?
All of it made perfect sense to me, though. In the past three months, I’d not only researched eligible bachelors in the Denver area, I’d also read books on genetics, parenting, and how to make organic baby food. I was well prepared for what to expect, and now I just needed to figure out how to get myself expectant.
“We should go out,” Marlowe suggested. “If you let me dress you and do your makeup, you could pick up a guy and possibly be pregnant by midnight.”