Page 55 of Accidental Baby Daddy

I walked out to the mailbox, but it was just a bunch of junk mail.

“Hey!” a small voice called out.

I frowned, peering with my hand covering my eyes from the sun. “Who’s there?”

“A troll under the bridge,” the voice giggled, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“There’s no bridge! You’re homeless!” I exclaimed.

“Nooo,” the voice wailed, and soon Trent came into view, his sandy hair mussed from playing in the grass.

“You must be Trent,” I said, and the little boy smiled brightly at me, his teeth small and straight.

“That’s me,” he said proudly, pointing to himself with his thumb. He tilted his head, staring at me. “Who are you?”

“My name is Lex,” I said. “I’m a friend of your dad’s.”

“My dad doesn’t have any friends,” he said flatly, and I chuckled.

“Well, he’s got me. We’re old friends, from before you were born.”

“Dad had friends before I was born?” he asked, walking up to me.

“Does he know where you are?” I asked, suddenly concerned.

He shrugged. “He knows I’m playing, don’t worry.”

I looked around but couldn’t see any sign of Oliver.

“Maybe we should walk back to the house.”

“Aw,” he pouted. “I was hoping to see the witch’s cabin.”

I blinked at him. “The what now?”

“The witch’s cabin,” he repeated, pointing behind me. “Is that where you live?” His eyes widened. “Areyouthe witch?”

I laughed. “I’m no witch, kiddo. But I do live in the cabin.”

“Are yousureyou’re not a witch?” he asked slyly, smiling. He looked so much like his father that I blinked a little. It was kind of confusing to see so many similarities between them. It gave me vertigo a little bit.

I hadn’t known Oliver when we were kids. We just didn’t run in the same circles. I vaguely remembered him when he was slightly older than this, but I didn’t have any concrete memories of him until we were teens.

I wondered if this little boy would also play football, gohunting with his dad, and prefer going fishing to having a girlfriend until he was thirteen.

“Pretty sure.” I wiggled my nose like Samantha fromBewitched. “See, nothing happened.”

“You have to have a wand,” he said, like that was common knowledge. “Haven’t you seen any of the Harry Potter movies?”

I shrugged. “I never got my wand in the mail.”

“So, can I see inside?” he asked, bouncing around on his heels.

I grinned at him. He was cute, resembling a tiny Oliver but with other features I assumed came from his mother, such as his button nose and dimples.

“Sure, why not? I can give you a quick tour.”

We walked inside and he reached for my hand, holding it. I pointed at the kitchen.

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