Page 10 of One Steamy Pucking Meet Cute

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll go do some light packing for the trip.”

4

JAKE

When I stop the car on the tarmac, Caroline tries to get the gigantic baby bag out of the trunk. I take it from her and throw it over one shoulder. She gets Walker out of his car seat, which took me about forty-five minutes to get in after a lot of grunting, cursing, and even a little blood. Caroline seemed content to let me struggle with it while she went back and forth to the bed and breakfast a hundred times to gather more supplies.

Caroline is hardly five feet tall, with thick brown curls and a heart-shaped face. As a kid, I always had a crush on the school librarian, and Caroline is like that woman cranked up to one hundred. She even has the rotation of quirky glasses on-point. Today, she’s wearing jeans and a low-cut blouse that shows off her cleavage. I’m only a little sour as I occasionally sneak looks. There was a time when Caroline was more or less mine.

We had a loose arrangement where she was available and willing if I was in town during the offseason or between games. We kept it all very quiet and never asked each other questions about exclusivity or anything like that. I would’ve been too embarrassed to admit to her that I was always exclusive when we were fooling around. It just never felt right to hook up with other women, even if we hadn’t put a label on what we were doing.

At some point, I guess I even let myself stupidly believe she felt the same way. Imagine my shock when she turned up pregnant and insisted it was from some guy nobody had ever met. Worse, the asshole didn’t even stick around to help her with the baby.

“He really needs this much stuff?” I ask, adjusting the bag on my arm. “It’s like you packed for a doomsday scenario, not a day trip to Manhattan.”

“He’s a baby, Jake. The only thing predictable about them is that you can’t predict a thing. So you prepare for every possibility. Explosive poops. Projectile vomit. Ear protection. Bandaids, sweaters, blankies, mittens, hats, pacifiers, lovies, bottles, formula, and–”

I grin. “Okay. Point taken. Babies are terrible, and I should never consider having one of my own. Got it.”

She makes a sour face, even though I only wanted to lighten the mood.

“I mean, he’s fine,” I say, giving the little guy in his car seat a look. “Is it normal for them to be so… bald?”

Caroline’s sour face looks fully venomous now. I have to admit I’m just fucking with her a little, even if it’s very unwise. The kid is honestly pretty cute. If you’re into small, helpless humans, that is. I can’t say I’ve ever seen what all the fuss was about. Kids are what you create when you’re ready to give up on your own dreams and aspirations in life. They’re for passing torches, and I’m not ready to pass any fucking torches. Not as long as I can help it.

“I’m starting to think I may want a fake divorce,” Caroline says.

“We’d have to get fake married for that. I think you mean you want to call off the fake wedding.”

We’re crossing the small distance toward the private jet, which is waiting with the stairs down for us. The pilot is standing by the stairs.

He reaches for my hand. “Hey, Jake. Can’t wait to see you play again next season. I’m a huge fan.”

I shake his hand back. “Thanks. I appreciate the support.”

I notice Caroline rolling her eyes and pretending to barf a little bit.

I follow behind as we head up the stairs. I try to take Walker for her, but she won’t give up the baby carrier. I settle for keeping a close watch on her from behind–and it’s only partly because I’m enjoying the view up the stairs while her ass is at eye level.

I’ve always been an ass man, and Caroline has the kind of ass that an ass man dreams about. Today, she’s wearing light blue jeans that stretch over her ample rear end.

She turns around, catches me looking, and glares.

“Hey,” I say, hands raised defensively. “What kind of fake fiancé would I be if I didn’t admire my girl’s perfect ass when it’s right in front of me?”

“Nobody is watching, Jake.”

“Gotta do it right when nobody’s watching, so it feels natural when they are.”

“Well,” she says, darting her eyes away from mine. “I’m still trying to get rid of some of the baby weight, so stop staring, or you’ll make me self-conscious.”

“Of what? You look fu–” I catch myself and remember moms don’t usually like for people to swear around their babies. “You look amazing.”

“Well, thank you,” Caroline says quietly.

We get settled into our seats. Caroline sits across the aisle from me so she can put Walker in his seat beside her. The flight attendant helps her get the seat strapped in properly. When I arranged the flight, I made sure they’d be able to accommodate a baby in his carrier. The lady seemed to know what I was talking about, and I’m glad it seems like they’ve got it handled.

“By the way,” Caroline says as the plane is starting to taxi for takeoff. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t need to kiss me with tongue yesterday.”

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