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Marco (The Men of Indecent Exposure #1)(3)

By:Raven St. Pierre


Of all the ways I imagined tonight ending, having this dropped in my lap was not one of them.





Chapter Two




Marco

A short ‘Almost there' text from Brynn let me know none of the women  already seated here were her. Arriving at the restaurant first lessened  some of my anxiety, so I took a deep breath and followed the hostess to a  table on the far side of the restaurant. I eased into the booth and  folded my arms across my chest.

Watching.

Waiting.

 … And sweating a little.

As I stared at The Alibi across the street, the place where Brynn and I had allegedly hooked up, my thoughts ran rampant.         

     



 

What if this is legit?

What if that one, careless night links me to this girl, someone I knew absolutely nothing about, forever?

What if this is all a lie or she has the wrong guy?

I mean, yeah, she said she's usually careful, but how would I know if  that's true or not? At the thought of what little care I might have  taken for my health by not strapping up, I set an alert on my phone to  remind me that a trip to the clinic was in order. Typically, I went for  STD screenings every six months, but that was based on the fact that I  always wore condoms. In light of my current situation, it felt like I  needed to go sooner rather than later this time around. Better to be  safe than sorry. It was clearly possible that I shared enough with this  girl to get her pregnant-or so she says-so there was no telling what  she, in turn, could've shared with me.

My eyes were averted from my phone when a red sedan pulled into the  parking lot. I didn't get a chance to see inside, but I tried anyway,  all the way up until the driver rounded the other side of the building  and drove out of my line of sight. I checked my watch again. She was  only eight minutes late, but it felt more like an hour.

In enough time for the driver of the car to have exited the vehicle and  reached the restaurants' entrance, a tiny bell over the frame rung and  my eyes went there, to the door, to a face that all of a sudden made my  world shudder to a stop.

I did remember her.

Her presence tripped a wire in my subconscious, bringing the nerve  endings in my fingertips to life as electricity pulsed through them. And  just like that, a phantom memory hit me like a ton of bricks, one that  induced a recollection of how her full thighs felt as they filled my  hands-firm, but still very soft; heavy. And then came the sensation of  those same smooth thighs falling away from my hips as I lowered her back  down to the floor.

She wasn't just some chick playing games on my phone. No, she was real;  this situation was real, but …  that still didn't mean the kid was mine.

From where she stood, her eyes found mine and I knew she remembered me,  too. The hand she wasn't clutching her purse with lifted into the air  and then she waved just before being escorted over. I waved back.  Watching her, it was no wonder I made sure she didn't get away from me  that night without having my number, even with all the alcohol I must've  had in my system when we hooked up.

I love women-period-but I definitely had a type or preference and she  was it-well put together, cute face, thick as hell …  just like I liked.  The closer she came, the harder I stared. She was probably about six  inches or so shorter than me-I guessed 5' 6" or 5' 7"-and if I had to  guess her size, I'd put her right around a fourteen or a sixteen. Her  dark brown complexion stood out to me, too. I couldn't remember ever  seeing skin so smooth and even.

To sum up my impression of her: this woman was the definition of bad.

However, given the situation, this wasn't the time to be checking her  out. To break this hold she had on me, I simply reminded myself why we  were here.

"Thank you," she said politely to the hostess who brought her over.  However, she didn't sit right away when the woman left us. Instead,  Brynn's hand extended toward me and with it came the sound of the three  metal bracelets on her wrist clanging together. Once I was finally able  to stop gawking at the damn girl, it dawned on me that she was waiting  to introduce herself.

I stood again and dark, brown eyes followed as I rose.

"I'm Brynn," she said once my hand was in hers. A nervous smile brought  out a deep set of dimples in her cheeks, bringing a sweet innocence to  her face.

"Marco," I replied, looking her up and down now that we were so close.  Her jeans were form-fitting with a black top that matched her heels. The  scent of cinnamon was heavy on her and the thought that came to mind  was that she smelled just like a slice of warm apple pie.

Not thinking, I licked my lips.

It seemed like my stare made her self-conscious, so I toned it down as  much as I could, but damn …  she was beautiful. Too beautiful not to  notice. I hoped she knew that was the only reason I couldn't stop  looking at her. Not because I didn't like what I saw.

As she took her seat, she flipped her hair behind her shoulder, tucking a  few strands behind her ear. She wore makeup, but nothing heavy; just  enough to accentuate an already pretty face.

"I appreciate you agreeing to meet me," Brynn said timidly. She laced  her fingers together when she rested both elbows on the table.

I nodded once. "No problem. We've got quite a bit to discuss."         

     



 

Her lips pursed together and she took a deep breath in through her nose.  "I know this is all really …  really hard to believe," she said,  exhaling.

I had so many questions, but I didn't know where to start, didn't know which ones were okay to ask.

"When did you find out?" seemed reasonable enough.

Long lashes fluttered over her dark eyes when she gazed up. "A couple  days ago," she answered. "I took a test last week, well …  several tests,  but I didn't get confirmation from the doctor until Thursday." One of  those dimples appeared with the faint, half-smile she gave. "Took me all  this time to get up the nerve to call you," she admitted.

The longer this went on, I won't lie: the more real it became.

"H-how far along?" I stuttered. When she called, she said we met a couple months ago, but I wanted to know more specifically.

She cleared her throat again and I assumed that was a nervous habit.  "Uh …  ten weeks yesterday." She zoned out and then her eyes found mine  again. "I probably would've known sooner, but my cycle is never regular,  and … " She paused. " … And I guess that was probably a bit too personal,"  she concluded, trailing off.

We were both quiet for a moment, but then Brynn spoke again.

"And I probably should've led with this, but I honestly just called to  tell you because I thought you had a right to know, not because I wanted  or needed anything from you," she explained. "I know we don't know each  other, like …  at all; this is just one of those things. But my point is  this: if you don't want to be involved, I'm cool with that. I mean, I  don't know your situation, don't know what you have on your plate, so I  just thought you should know I'm not expecting anything."

There was quite a bit of emotion behind her eyes-fear, uncertainty,  worry-but she was trying to hide it all. Of course she was scared,  though.

Her hand went to her forehead and those eyes, the ones I couldn't stop  staring into, shut as something occurred to her. "Oh my gosh. I'm such  a …  I didn't even consider the possibility of you being in a relationship  or …  married even. I mean …  I wasn't …  we didn't … " she trailed off as  worry spread across her face.

I shook my head and put her mind at ease. "No, it's not like that. I'm not with anyone."

A look of relief swept over her and I had to ask the same question, just  so I knew exactly what I was dealing with. After all, we were drunk and  things happened. Us hooking up didn't mean she was single, too. "What  about you? What's your situation?"

"It's just me," she said at first, but then gave her response more  thought, which made me curious what she was getting ready to add. Her  expression changed. "I mean …  technically, it's just me," was how she  amended the statement, leaving me to wonder what that meant exactly. Her  eyes stayed trained on the tabletop. "There's a friend I started seeing  recently," she began, pausing to take a deep breath, "but …  there was  only one official date. A couple weeks ago, so …  yeah, I'm pretty sure  that's over now."

We both fell silent for a moment. I could see on her face that she felt  at least as overwhelmed as I did, but she quickly faked a weak smile to  mask it.

"But that's not your problem," she said, cutting into the silence. "It's  like I said: no hard feelings if you choose to bow out, you know? I get  it. You're not obligated to me, to this kid, so …  yeah." The smile  broadened, but her eyes were tearing up at the same time, contrasting  her expression when she added a casual, "It's cool."