Page 4 of Stay Wild Darlin’

I rounded the corner and caught sight of Gatlin, Fable, Beau, Papa Banks, and Harleigh, all staring like I’d grown a second head.

“The fuck, dude?” Beau barked, his eyes wide. “You were supposed to be here hours ago.”

“I know,” I muttered, adjusting the carrier so it didn’t slam into my knee.

“Whose baby is that?” Fable asked.

I didn’t look up. Instead, I shoved the diaper bag into Gatlin’s chest so I didn’t have to answer yet. I wasn’t ready. Hell, I still wasn’t sure how this had become my life.

“If she needs a bottle, there’s formula, food, or whatever inside,” I muttered.

I felt Papa Banks before I saw him, arms crossed, jaw tight.

“Dalton. Answer Fable.”

Everyone was watching me, waiting. The baby—my baby—was still asleep, all peaceful and innocent.

I glanced down at her.

Back up.

Back down again.

God dammit.

“Mine,” I finally said.

Papa Banks shouted. Gatlin dropped the bag and Fable looked like she’d seen a ghost.

I hadn’t figured out how the hell to process any of it. I still didn’t know how to swaddle the right way, and she screamed every time I tried.

Everything felt like it was moving too fast, and I couldn’t slow it down. Couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t think beyond the next ten minutes.

Beau walked over, gripped my arm, and said, “We got this. Get dressed. Fable and I have to get married, and then we’ll deal with . . .” He looked down at Cora. “Then we’ll handle this.”

I swallowed hard, nodding and rubbing a hand over my face to ground myself.

He took the carrier from me and called out, “Maribel, would you mind holding Dalton’s baby while he gets dressed?”

I winced.

That’s how everyone was going to find out? Just like that?

Maribel’s eyes lit up like it was Christmas morning. “A baby?!”

“It’s a long story,” I grumbled, tugging at the brim of my hat and backing away.

Sure as hell was.

As Maribel bounced off toward the tree, cooing over my daughter, Beau clapped me on the back. “Go, man. We’ll deal with this later.”

Papa Banks gave me that look. The one that said We are absolutely having a talk after the wedding. Maybe ten talks.

I huffed, turned on my heel, and headed for the barn to change, heart hammering, ears hot, mind reeling.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I didn’t even know how to tie a tie, let alone raise a damn baby. Of course, everyone thought I was the massive fuckup I’d always been labeled, considering I rolled into my best friend’s wedding with a newborn.

“Need help?” My best friend and groom for the day, Beaudreau—Beau for short—Banks, stepped into the room, already rolling up his sleeves like he knew I was struggling.