Clearly, from the way she’s glaring at me, I’m wrong.
“Donnelly, I need a word,” she states, leaving zero room for argument.
I argue anyway.
“A bit fucking busy here, actually,” I quip, spreading my thighs wider and resting back in my stall.
“Yeah, I get that,” she states, crossing her arms under her tits. “But this is important,” she insists.
“More important than winning the cup?” I counter.
Hailee’s mouth opens, but she quickly closes it again before any words can come out.
Panic begins to knot up my stomach.
Hailee is never speechless. Ever. Especially when it comes to me.
Something is wrong. Really fucking wrong.
“Go, man,” Fletch, our captain, encourages, looking at me with concern in his eyes. “Sort your shit and then get back here.”
I nod once before pushing to my feet and walking out of the room half-dressed.
I glance at Linc a beat before I get to the door, but if he knows what’s going on, he doesn’t show it.
“What the fuck is more important than the cup?” I bark as I follow her a few feet down the hallway.
Her shoulders tighten.
I’d like to say I don’t enjoy getting under her skin, but that would be a lie. It’s one of the best forms of entertainment around here—aside from the bunnies, of course.
Finally, she spins around and glares up at me.
“Did you really want to do this here? I’d think somewhere a little more private would be a good idea.”
“Just tell me.” I sigh, bored with the dramatics already.
“Fine.” She huffs, her hands landing on her slim waist. “Congratulations, Donnelly. You’re going to be a father.”
Ice runs through my body as the world around me spins.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter. I must have misheard.
“Congratulations, Donnelly. You’re going to be a father,” she repeats word for word.
But it doesn’t fucking help.
“What the fuck? No, I’m not. I always wrap it and?—”
“Did you want to come and tell that to the woman sitting in my office right now, claiming to be carrying your spawn?”
I blink at her, unable to believe this is really happening.
“No, I really fucking don’t,” I state, rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs.
“Well, that’s just tough, because you don’t have a choice. Let’s go, Donnelly. Time to sort out another one of your fuckups.”
“W-what? I can’t follow you now. I’ve got a game to prepare for.”
