Page 6 of Infected By Virus

“Shit,” she ground out.

Strong hands grabbed her around the waist and helped maneuver her back out from under the table without further injury.

When she turned to see who’d caused her injury and also gave her assistance, she was face-to-face with a bearded hottie. One who still held her hips with a little too much familiarity.

“Thanks for the assist, um …” she trailed off, waiting for him to offer up a name.

“Santa, sweetheart, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“Oh.” She snorted inelegantly, “The naughty list comment makes sense now. Clever. I’m Alaine. Thanks again,” she said nervously and glanced down at his hands, which still rested on her hips, but the older gentleman made no move to let her go.

“How’s your head?”

“’Tis but a scratch,” she said in her best over-the-top British accent. Santa just stared at her. She always answered that way in similar situations before remembering not everyone loved Monty as much as her.

“A scratch? Your arm’s off,” someone else responded. She laughed and looked around for who said it. She got a wave from behind Santa as the person attached to the tattooed hand that took credit for the comment continued past, toward a booth further down.

She mumbled to Santa, who still looked confused by the exchange, knowing he wouldn’t get it. “I’ve had worse.”

“Take your hands off the lady, Santa, and let her get back to her kid, and possibly the kid’s father.” Another voice from behind Santa spoke with an upward inflection at the end of the statement, making it more of a question.

Santa finally released her and took a step back.

“Oh, I um …” Why was she tempted to explain her life to strangers for a second time? The stress of what was to come was really taking its toll on her today.

She veered again. “Anyway, thanks.” She nodded and sat back down.

Santa still stood there, just behind Adam’s shoulder.

The other men behind him, including the one who’d told him to let her go, inclined their chins or nodded as they passed, heading toward where the only cool one, in her book, sat waiting. Santa pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Call me sometime, mama. I promise to show you a good time.” She bristled at the mama, but let it go.

“I’m just passing through, so …” Which wasn’t exactly true, be he would never know that. A harmless white lie on her part, hoping he would get the hint and join his buddies, but nope.

A sharp whistle pierced the air, and she looked in that direction. All the men had managed to slide into a large booth down the way. They were all turned toward her and Santa, staring at their exchange, while one motioned for Santa to join them.

“That’s even better. Since you didn’t lead with married, I’ll assume you’re single.” He winked, ruffled Adam’s hair, and left to join his companions.

That’s when her blood froze in her veins, and she had trouble taking in oxygen.

The men at the table were trading money and proclaiming, everything from I thought he could close the deal, to old man has lost his touch. Obviously betting on if he could get her number, but that’s not what made it hard to breathe or cause her to panic. It was the big fucking skull wearing a crown on Santa’s back that did that. He was a Royal Bastard; they all were now that she paid attention.

Rae sat there paralyzed as their conversation drifted her way.

“How does it feel to be shot down so much, Santa?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, because you can’t catch a pretty fish if your line ain’t even in the water. For every no, I got a shot at a yes.”

She heard groaning and razzing coming from the other men, but it started to blur together when her brain caught up to what all that meant.

If a single one of them had bothered to look Adam in the face, and for all she knew, one had, she wouldn’t get the chance to tell Darrin he had a kid, they’d do it for her. There was no way to deny Adam’s DNA.

“No more procrastinating, Rae, you have to ovary up and see Darrin today,” she said under her breath and slapped a couple of twenties down before grabbing Adam. “Let’s go, big guy.”

She tried to carry him for a quick escape, but he was having none of it. “I can walk.” He pouted.

Rae had no choice but to go slow. She may not have this whole raising a kid thing down, but she did know he had to do things on his own. Grabbing his still sticky hand, she made her way out of the restaurant and to the car.

---