Unable to stop myself, I lean over, open my camera, and send him a picture of my feet off the ground.
Baby Daddy: Whoa, and I didn’t even ask for a sexy picture…
A laugh bursts out of me. My swollen, throbbing feet are anything but sexy right now, but I appreciate his humor all the same.
Bea: Wouldn’t want you missing me.
29
EVERETT
“Aren’t you going to join them?” Freya asks, dropping into the chair beside me as the guys set up a beach volleyball game.
“Uh…” I keep my eyes locked on my cell for a couple more seconds, waiting for the message I know is coming. But when it doesn’t show up, I reluctantly rip my eyes away and focus on Freya. “I will in a bit, yeah. I’m just waiting for something,” I explain, lifting my cell between us.
“Okay. Is…um…” She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Is everything okay with?—”
My cell buzzes, and I accidentally shout, “Yes,” a little too excitedly.
Freya says something else, but I’m too distracted swiping my screen and opening the message.
Baby Momma: Thank you for lunch. It smells incredible.
A smile spreads across my lips.
Rett: You’re welcome. I hope you both enjoy it.
Since the morning I took her to work, I’ve been sending breakfast and lunch for her at the salon. To start with, she argued. She tried to tell me she didn’t need me looking after her, that she could do it herself. But when I didn’t stop the next day, she quieted down and just started thanking me instead.
I love it. Every time I know she’s had a delivery, a little shot of adrenaline rushes through me. Of course, it’s not quite like stepping out onto the ice in front of almost twenty thousand people, or sending some asshole into the boards, or finding the back of the net. But it’s still good. And it’s giving me something to focus on.
“Donnelly, get your ass over here,” Killer calls as the guys line up to start the game.
I’m barely out of my seat before Casey drops into it with an exhausted sigh.
“Aren’t you playing?” I ask.
She shoots me a glare before waving me off. “Cocktails?” I hear her ask Freya as I join the others. The only other non-player here is Sutton Rivers, standing in front of Kodie, ready to try to beat our asses.
Not gonna lie, she might only be eight, but we all know where we stand where Sutton is concerned.
I come to a stop beside Killer and roll my shoulders.
“Don’t forget you’re playing against a little girl,” he reminds me.
“Dude, don’t talk about Monroe like that,” I tease. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back, man,” I call to Monroe, who looks like he wants to scale the net and throttle Killer with his bare hands.
“Ready, Peanut,” Kodie calls before lifting her up in the air so she can serve.
With the strength and accuracy of a professional, Sutton sends the ball sailing over the net. Killer goes running and hits it straight back. It flies in Monroe’s direction. He races backward and hits it just before stepping out of our “court.” He roars in delight as he watches it sail through the air, but it begins dropping faster than I’m sure he was hoping for and collides with the net.
“Motherfucker,” he barks before collapsing on the sand.
“See, told you he was a little girl.”
“And he needs to pay up,” Sutton declares, holding her hand out above him.
Instead of just chastising us about our language, she’s discovered she can charge us for it. I’m pretty sure she’s going to be able to buy herself a car soon.
