Sucker Punched (9 page)

The first thing Blake did when we got inside was tell Declan to go home and take care of Savannah, which totally ruined my plan to use him as a buffer. I wanted to avoid the awkward “why’d you run out on me?” conversation, and I figured as long as Declan was here, Blake couldn’t bring up that night. But as the minutes wear on and he doesn’t say anything about it, I begin to relax.

Blake closes the oven door and sets the timer on the stove. “Okay, turkey’s in the oven. Now what?”

He picks up the massive cookbook Declan left and looks over the bookmarked recipes while I sort through the bags of groceries on the kitchen table. 

“I have no idea. Just because I have a vagina doesn’t mean I know anything about cooking.” I pull out a bag of miniature marshmallows from one of the sacks and sigh. What the hell are we supposed to do with these? Do we put them on a pie or something? “We need Savannah. She’d know what to do.”

“Can you believe she’s
pregnant
?” He shakes his head, shuddering. “That’s too much responsibility, man. No fucking thank you.”

“I know. I love Savannah and if this is what she wants, then good. I’m happy for her. But if I found out I was pregnant. . . I think I’d shit myself. Seriously.”

Don’t get me wrong, I want kids.
Some
day. But I’m twenty-one. I’m still in school, and my parents pay for 90% of my living expenses. I can’t support
myself
, let alone another human being.

When I get to the last grocery bag, I find a bag of frozen rolls. Only these are small and hard. Frowning at the picture of big, fluffy rolls on the front of the package, I turn it over and read the directions. 

Shit. These rolls need to rise. We should have put them out by now.

Ugh, Declan could
not
have gotten a worse person to help with this. I suck.

I turn around, about to ask Blake where he keeps those big metal trays you use for baking cookies and shit, but he’s already standing directly in front of me.

“It’s killing me, Duchess. I gotta ask. Why’d you bail?”

Damn it, I knew this moment would come. . .

I thought he might be mad or some semblance of upset when we finally had this conversation, but he’s looking at me like he’s. . .fascinated. There’s a hint of curiosity and a spark of heat in the muddled hazel eyes staring down at me. I may as well be made of straw with the way my body’s igniting under his gaze.

I look down at his chest, because I can’t keep up eye contact anymore. Not with the way he’s looking at me, so inquisitive and intent.

I feel like a slide under a microscope.

Swallowing, I follow the outline of his pecs under the white cotton stretched tight in front of me. Flashes of what’s underneath flick through my mind like the scenes from a movie, my skin burning where he touched me, kissed me.

Is it possible for skin to have memories? Because mine remembers everything. 

Every kiss of his lips. 

Every touch of his fingers. 

Every scrape of his stubble. 

Every flick of his tongue.

Every thrust of his hips.

Taking my eyes off him completely, I look away and exhale a shaky breath. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this about me, but I’m not the smoothest person.” A nervous laugh bubbles up, like I’m subconsciously trying to prove my point.

I can
feel
his eyes on me. My skin, in turn, heats another million degrees. I’m going to spontaneously combust if I’m not careful.

“I disagree.” He tilts my face up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “You feel plenty smooth to me.” 

His thumb brushes my bottom lip, making my eyes squeeze shut. I can’t think around him as it is, and when he goes and does
that
, it’s like system overload. 

Slipping out from between him and the table, I sigh. “I don’t know how to respond to that. I have no witty retort that resembles anything like flirting.” I bite my lip, wishing I could make him understand. “Some girls can flip their hair and have guys eating out of the palm of their hand.
I
flip my hair, and I’m liable to smack somebody in the face as they walk past me. I’m just not graceful. I’m awkward and insecure, and I’m sorry, but I don’t know the proper etiquette for bathroom sex with a stranger. I freaked the fuck out, okay? Leaving seemed less embarrassing than trying to make awkward small talk.”  

“Who says we had to talk at all? We could’ve gone for round two. And then three, and four.”

I doubt the guy banging on the door would’ve appreciated that.

“But for what it’s worth, I like how awkward you are.”

So he did notice. Awesome.

But he’s got to be telling the truth, right? I mean, I obviously did
something
right to land a ride on Blake’s saddle. 

That little insecure part of me won’t shut up, though. It has me sheepishly asking, “You do?”

“Of course I do. It makes you easy to read and I like that, I like seeing how I affect you. Your skin flushes. Your breathing changes. Every time it happens, I can practically see what dirty things you’re thinking, and I love it.”

Well, shit.

His lips curve into a smile. 

Damn it, I’m probably doing all of those things right now.

Before I can get too embarrassed, Blake’s phone dings. He pulls it out of his pocket and scowls when he reads the screen.

“Is everything okay?”

He slips it back into his jeans without responding to the text. “Declan’s not even here and he’s trying to cock-block me.”

“Does he know that we. . .?”

“He threatened me with severe bodily harm if I laid so much as a finger on you, so no, I didn’t tell him. Savannah might’ve, but I kinda doubt it.”

I cross my arms, trying not to smile. “Why didn’t you heed his warning if you took him seriously enough not to tell him?”

“Are you kidding? Look at you,” he says, gesturing to me. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Duchess. There’s not a goddamn thing in this world that can stop me from trying to lay all ten of my fingers on you. Or
in
you.”

The grin that curves his lips and flashes his teeth is so perfect, so sexy, that I have half a mind to tell him I’d like both, please.

“You okay?”

Shaking her head, Savannah closes the lid and flushes the toilet, clutching her stomach. She still looks a little green around the gills as she turns on the faucet and rinses out her mouth.

Poor thing. Her and Declan showed up not even fifteen minutes ago, and as soon as she stepped into the house and smelled the food, she hauled ass to the bathroom and promptly threw up. 

I tried not to take it as an affront to my culinary skills.

She opens the window in the small half-bath and breathes deep the fresh air wafting through. “It’s been like this all day.” She plops down on the lid, looking miserable.

Reason #1,342,587 not to have a baby. . .

She scrubs her hands over her face before looking up at me and sighing. She looks tired. Her hair’s in a messy bun, and in addition to wearing what I can only assume is Declan’s sweatshirt since it’s five sizes too big, she’s wearing leggings.

Leggings.
 

This girl constantly gives me shit about wearing them. Says they’re not “real” pants.

Whatever. If they have sleeves for my legs, leave my feet exposed, and I can pull them up to my hips, then they’re fucking pants.

Savannah lowers her voice. “I’m so sorry Declan roped you into this. He doesn’t know about you and Blake, otherwise he wouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine. Being around him is actually not as awkward as I thought it’d be, so. . .” I shrug. “We’re good.”

“Good” is a bit of an understatement. Things with Blake have been great today. Everything about him is just so. . .easy.

He’s easy to talk to. Easy to joke with. Very easy to flirt with.

The longer I spent around him, the more comfortable I started to feel. For the most part. It’s still shockingly easy for him to get me all hot and bothered—all he has to do is, you know,
look
at me—but I’m getting less and less hung up about it.

Probably because every time it happens, he lets me know just how much he likes it. 

“See? I told you everything would be fine,” she says, waving me off.

She’s lucky she was right. 

Craning her neck, Savannah looks past me. “Are they in the kitchen?”

I stick my head in the hall, hearing Blake and Declan’s voices drift from the direction of the kitchen. “Yeah.” 

“Get in here for a second and shut the door.”

I do as she asks, but her apprehensive expression is making me nervous.

“I know it’s early, but I have something to ask you. And you can say no if you want, really. It’s a big responsibility and if you don’t feel up to it or you just don’t want to, then don’t be afraid to say no, okay?”

“Okay. . .” I’m officially worried. Does she need a kidney or something? Why such a big disclaimer?

“Declan and I got to talking about worst case scenarios the other night, and I asked him what would happen if we died in some horrible accident.”

I shake my head. “I don’t like that scenario.”

“Well we don’t either, but in that scenario, our baby would still be alive and we’d need someone to take care of it. . . Raise it. Love it. I want that someone to be you, Macy. I want you to be the baby’s godmother.”

My heart squeezes as I lean down and hug her. “I would be honored, sweetie.” Pulling back, I wipe at my suddenly watery eyes. “But you better not fucking die on me, okay?”

Savannah laughs, even though her eyes are just as misty. “I’ll really, really try not to.” She sniffles. “There is one
tiny
thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You’d have to share custody with Blake.”

“
What?
” Shit, that was kind of loud. Lowering my voice, I hiss, “Suddenly I’m having a baby with Blake now? Are you insane?”

I think I’d rather be a single mom.

Giving me a pointed look, Savannah stands. “He’s the only family Declan has aside from his dad, and his dad won’t be with us for much longer. I think he’s got a couple of aunts, but they’re practically strangers. Blake’s all he’s got left and I want him involved in our child’s life. I love you, Macy, but it’s important to me that our baby has blood relatives who are active in their life.”

I rub my forehead, wincing. “I know. And you’re right, family’s important.” But Blake and I? Raising a kid?

In what universe does that sound like a good idea? I barely know the guy.

Savannah frowns and bites her thumbnail. “I haven’t even talked to Blake about this yet, so who knows. He may not want to do it.”

I sigh. “He’s a good guy.”
I think.
“He’ll step up if worse comes to worst.”

“I hope so.”

I’m not saying that Blake is my soul mate, but it would’ve been nice to see where things went. Maybe we would’ve fallen in love and gotten married somewhere down the line, or maybe things would’ve fizzled out in two weeks. No matter the outcome, one thing’s for certain: we would’ve had
massive
amounts of hot, sweaty sex.

Now that I’m potentially stuck with Blake for the next eighteen years, we should probably stick to being friends, or else we run the risk of things ending up in the shitter. I certainly don’t want to wind up hating him and then have life rear her ugly head and be all, “Surprise, bitches! Here’s a kid for you guys to raise together.”

So yeah, friends it is. “Platonic, no sex with the super hot guy” friends.

Sounds like fun, right?

I nod toward the door. “You ready to go back out there?”

“I think so.”

I turn and open the bathroom door, letting Savannah out first. As she passes me, I glance down at her legs. “Don’t think I didn’t notice those leggings, asshole.”

Declan volunteered to go pick up Dad from the hospital, which shocked the shit out of me. But hey, good on him.

What’s not so good is that he’s been gone for over an hour and the rolls are almost done. They’re the last thing still cooking. If they don’t hurry up and get here soon, everything’s going to be cold.