Knocked Up Read online

  “Don’t matter you don’t know Free People, B, just get your ass out here. Girl looks like she’s gonna puke.”

  The phone snaps down and she grins. The Cheshire Cat comes to mind as she breaks out into a toothy smile. “He’ll be right here. You need a bucket?”

  Is it that obvious to everyone that I’m constantly two point five seconds away from vomiting these days? I shake my head. “No, thank you.”

  “So how do you know Braxton?”

  “Not sure that’s any of your business, Stell.”

  His voice. It rumbles through me, flows like water and sends thrills down my spine. I’ve spent weeks trying to forget his voice, so hung up on that one night we spent together that I’ve been sure I had to be imagining him and all his deliciousness.

  But nope. Hell no. No way in hell. Braxton is standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, looking just as stunning, if not more so, than I remembered. I don’t know how it’s possible, but in the flesh—and sober—I go liquid.

  Black cropped hair, dark as the night. Tanned, olive skin so beautifully perfect it makes a girl want to lick it right up like melted chocolate. And I’ve done that. Several times. I’ve had my hands and tongue and body all over this massive man who is currently staring at me like I’ve stolen something precious from him and he’ll stop at nothing, absolutely nothing, to have it returned. I can’t peel my eyes away. He was breathtaking in a suit. In jeans currently hugging his large and muscled thighs and a plain white T-shirt, his muscles pop and with the way they’re currently crossed, holy hell, the tattoos…can anyone say “arm porn”?

  Damn it. I should have run.

  Be a better person. Be the girl I know you can be, the girl who’s deep down in your soul.

  Shit. Jimmy always chooses the worst times to speak to me. I hate listening, but he’d been impossible to ignore while alive. On his deathbed, even more so.

  “Can I help you?” Braxton asks. His voice is so brisk, so hardened, I falter, going back a step before regaining my balance.

  He’s looking at me like I’m a complete stranger.

  This is more mortifying than I’d imagined. I’m not much to sneeze at, but was I so forgettable to a guy like this? Yowch. This stings. The night with him had been the most adventurous night I’d ever had. I let loose in a way I hadn’t since before Jimmy’s death over a year ago and it’d been thrilling. He’d given me more than one thing I’d never experienced before.

  Perhaps that’s the problem. Hormones and a first-time orgasm with a man have muddled my mind, making it seem more spectacular than it truly was. Hell, for a guy like him, it’s probably a nightly thing. Weekly minimal.

  “Hey, Braxton. I’m Cara, a friend of Jenna’s. Can we talk?”

  “Depends on what you gotta say.”

  I look at Stella. She’s in her same seat, and no joke, a bag of popcorn has somehow appeared in her hands. She tosses a handful into her mouth and waves. “Don’t mind me. We don’t get pretty girls like you in here and I’m thinking this is going to be fun.”

  “Stella.” I have to fight a flinch. She glares at him like he’s a mosquito. She has to have some massive lady balls. That glare turned in my direction would make me want to burst into ash. “Enough.”

  “You don’t want me knowin’ your business, don’t go airin’ it in public.”

  “Damn it. You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

  “Love you too, B.”

  My eyes bounce back and forth at their banter. But those last four words, they stall my chest. Shit, I haven’t even considered. “Are you two…dating?”

  Stella throws her head back and laughs. It’s maniacal and loud and I can only stand there staring at her. She jerks back and reaches for the desk as she throws herself forward, slapping her hand on the counter. “Holy shit, girl. You’re hilarious and I think I love you too.”

  “Jesus, fuck,” Braxton growls and then he’s front of me. Holy cow, he moves fast. “Let’s go,” he growls again. His large, muscled hand wraps around my bicep and he tugs me forward. I can do nothing but follow him, tripping over my boots, the sound of Stella’s crazy laughter echoing loudly in the hallway.

  He stops when he pulls me into what looks like a madman’s office. Papers are scattered all over the place and a chair resembling one I see at the dentist’s office sits in the corner. The door slams shut and I spin around, which is a mistake.

  He’s right in front of me. He’s so tall I have to tilt my head up and he’s too close. His masculine scent invades my senses and another wave of nausea hits me.

  This has to stop. My hand flies to my stomach and I step back. God, I’m going to puke all over his feet and won’t that be amazing.

  He doesn’t know me and I’m going to throw up all over him before I can tell him I’m pregnant. Awesome second impression.

  Perhaps it’ll be more memorable than my first one.

  “You wanted to talk?”

  I look away, trying to settle my rattled nerves. “Yeah, um, I’m Cara. We met at Dan and Jenna’s wedding a few months ago.”

  “And?”

  Don’t puke. Just tell him. I hug my stomach more firmly. “Okay. Well, we met and um…well, I’m pregnant.” He doesn’t move, not a single twitch of any emotion flashes in his eyes or his face, not a single damn muscle twitch.

  This isn’t going how I expected at all. “And, well, it’s yours.”

  Chapter 2

  Braxton

  I’m being an asshole, but frankly, the prissy woman deserves it. I’ve been with a lot of girls who wanted to go slumming with a guy like me who they’d never take home to Mommy and Daddy, or girls who would do the exact opposite just to set off the fireworks of a lifetime when Daddy saw what kind of guy his princess had deigned to bring home.

  I’ve gotten used to it. A lifetime of being misjudged, being thought of as less than someone else because of my zip code, hardens a man like me. Growing up in my hood, kids like me went one of two ways with it. Died in the anger, turning to drugs and gangs and a lifetime of running from the police, or we got out.

  Lucky for me, I had Irvin at my back, teaching me the right way to live before my anger turned all-consuming.

  I’d thought Cara was different. The night I met her at Dan’s wedding rehearsal she’d been flustered in that cute, innocent way that was a fuckuva turn-on. Yeah, we’d probably had way too much to drink and ended up in my hotel room the next night when we shouldn’t have, but she’d lit up for me in a way no other woman had. Tight and wet, she’d pulled me in over and over again. I worked out hours every day, no excuses, but after the night with her, my abs had hurt from the workout we’d had.

  So when she woke up, rolled my way, and threw the pillow over her head, groaning, “Fuck. What a fucking disaster I am,” well, yeah…she doesn’t deserve shit from me.

  Except she just spun my world into a tailspin.

  “Excuse me?”

  She has to be kidding. Or I have a contact high from Javier’s joint he keeps sneaking into the alley and smoking between customers. That has to be it.

  This spicy but innocent little spitfire hasn’t just shown up in my place of business to tell me the wrapping I always use on my dick malfunctioned.

  But hell if she doesn’t look like she’s going to puke all over my feet, either.

  “Sit down,” I say, and guide her to a chair before she can argue.

  Her head falls into her hands, her dark brown hair making a curtain so I can’t see her. But I can hear her, and her shoulders are trembling.

  “I’m so sorry. This is just so humiliating, and I don’t mean to just blurt that out, but I figured you should know. But how embarrassing. I mean, you don’t even remember me.” She throws her head back, chocolate-colored hair whipping wildly, fingers
swiping under eyes so blue they’d reminded me of the Caribbean Sea.

  Damn it. A girl who cries is my kryptonite. Plus, if she’s pregnant…

  “I know who you are, Cara,” I say. She jolts in her chair, head snapping up giving me a clear view of her face. She looks sick. Truly sick. If she’s pregnant, she’s getting the short end of the stick with that pregnancy glow woman rave about. Hell, even Stella had it with both of hers and she was always looking in the mirror, constantly gushing over how good her skin looked.

  Her brows furrow. “Why? Why would you—?”

  I’ll apologize later. “Perhaps we have bigger things to talk about. You want to repeat what you said?”

  Her hands tangle in her lap. She’s just as beautiful as I remembered. The first time I saw her, my dick noticed first, but for the rest of the weekend, the rest of me was trying harder than I could remember trying to get a girl to notice me.

  The fact she regretted it so much and had no problem sharing that with me still stings.

  Her voice is small, shaky when she says, “Well, I’m pregnant. And it’s yours.”

  Yep…just as terrifying and dizzying as it’d been the first time. “You sure it’s mine?”

  “Of course it is. I wouldn’t have come all the way here unless I was sure.”

  Of course she wouldn’t. Princesses don’t cross the Willamette River to the slums unless necessary.

  Fucking hell. This is a disaster.

  “So, what?” I cross my arms over my chest. Mostly to stop from reaching for her, shaking some damn sense into her. I’d been under the impression we’d had a good weekend, no, a great one. We’d laughed and drunk and the next day at the wedding, she’d leaned into me, rested her hand on my chest, acted like she’d known me as long as she’d known Jenna. A few more drinks at the reception, she didn’t hesitate at all to take my hand in her much smaller one and lick her lips, saying, “I’m not ready for the night to end, are you?”

  It was the sweetest pickup line anyone had ever used on me. It’d worked like a charm.

  If it was possible for her skin to pale further, it does. She turns a slight shade of green. I lean forward, closer to her. And mistake. Jesus. Her eyes are so blue they’d reminded me of the ocean, not up north on the West Coast where it’s always dark and cloudy, but in the photos of the Caribbean, where the water is so clear it sparkles. I’d spilled my secrets thinking she gave a damn about me. Lesson learned.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I just thought you should know, of course.”

  She pushes back in her chair and stands, wiping her hands down the sides of her hips. Beautiful narrow hips I’ve had my hands wrapped all around in several different positions. Like hell she’s leaving now.

  I reach for her hand and step closer. “Cara, did you come here to tell me and walk away, or do you want something from me? You need money or something?”

  The fact I have to ask pisses me off, but she’s being elusive.

  She pushes back and covers her mouth with her hands. Her eyes dart around, scanning the floor. “Can you, um, step back?”

  She isn’t looking at me, something that pisses me off further. Two months ago, it’d felt like she couldn’t get enough of me, now she’s acting like she can’t stand to be around me. It only further confirms I made the right decision. Even though I’d wanted to get her number, as soon as she’d crawled out of bed, she’d taken off before I could realize she wasn’t using the restroom and coming back to bed. Just…gone.

  “It’s just that, well, you smell really good, but it’s also making me—” She lurches forward. I’ve seen enough drunken assholes to know what’s coming. I scramble to the side of my desk and grab the garbage can.

  Full of papers, I don’t even think. Just shove it right in front of her as she throws up.

  She takes the can from me and sinks back into her chair.

  Shit.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She wrenches again and I pull her hair off her cheeks, holding it in my fist. The memory of doing that to her while she was on her knees hits me hard and fast. I shake it off and focus. “It’s okay, Cara.”

  This girl. Watching her throw up, repeatedly, I suck in a breath and hold it. The stench is nasty.

  “I’m so sorry, Brax,” she murmurs, her voice dry. “It’s just, I’m making a mess of this.” She gags again and damn it if it doesn’t make me want to hold her in my arms, bathe her, clean her…

  And, hell.

  A baby.

  My baby. Somehow in all the anger, the shock of seeing her, I haven’t even considered the fact my kid is inside of her. It’s my child, my fault she’s throwing up.

  I slide my phone out of my pocket and call Stella. “Whatcha need, boss? More Magnums?”

  If Stella wasn’t like my sister, I’d have fired her years ago. Late to work, bitchy to the customers, she’s not exactly a model employee, but I’ve known her since we were kids and I might not be a lot of things, but I’m damn loyal. She’s also a whiz with numbers, something I’ve never been able to figure out.

  “No. Washcloth, warmed, and crackers and water. Now.”

  I hang up before she can ask what the hell for and step away from Cara to open the door.

  The scent of the puke has infiltrated my office. Damn. It’ll take days to air this out.

  All of that becomes irrelevant when Cara sniffs. “I’m so sorry, Brax. I didn’t mean to come here, didn’t mean to tell you this way.”

  “It’s all right.” I slide my hand up and down her back even after she sets the wastebasket down. Goosebumps pop on her arms. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful. My dick clearly remembers the feel of her skin because it twitches.

  Yeah, because now is the time to get a fucking hard-on.

  “You okay now?”

  She shrugs. “Comes and goes. Whoever said morning sickness was a thing is a lying sack of shit. Hits me at the worst times, all day long. And I’m so tired. I can’t sleep, can’t eat.”

  That explains the pale skin and dark circles under her eyes.

  “Come on.” I slide the garbage can out of the way. This girl needs someone to take care of her and I need answers. “Let me get you back home and we’ll talk.”

  “I’m really tired. Can I just leave you my number and you can call me? Maybe we can do this later?”

  Like hell that’s happening. I’m not some dick who walks away from responsibility. I’m also not setting a woman out on a street in this neighborhood looking like she might pass out at any moment.

  “No, come on.” I hold out my hand and when she places her palm in mine, electric heat zings straight to my chest. Yeah, I’m not letting her go. Not yet, anyway. “I want to make sure you get home okay and I’ve got a car out back. Did you drive here?”

  “No.” She shakes her head and sways on her feet. Her head smacks my chest and she goes listless. I tighten my grip on her. “Braxton? I don’t feel so well.”

  She sways again and her eyelids flutter closed. I grab her right before her body goes limp and crashes to the floor.

  Stella walks in, eyes wide, nose scrunched from the smell, crackers in one hand, bottle of water in the other. “What the hell? Did she puke? Is she drunk?”

  “Don’t ask. I’ve gotta get her to the hospital and call Dan and Jenna. Will you call and reschedule my appointments?”

  “Brax—”

  I’m already pushing past her, making her step backward so I can get through the doorway.

  “I’ll call you later and explain, Stella. Just do this for me. Oh, and clean up my office.”

  I take a step into the hallway and Stella’s shriek bounces off the walls. “Holy freaking nutballs! It reeks in here!”

  If any of this was funny, I’d
laugh my ass off.

  Instead, I’ve got a pregnant woman in my arms and a mission to get her to the hospital.

  Oh, and I still can’t forget she thinks screwing me is a disaster.

  At this point, I don’t think she’s all that far off.

  Chapter 3

  Cara

  My eyelids pop open to the soft sound of metal clicking and the brush of something over my stomach.

  I’m in a car.

  “What the heck?” Braxton is in front of me, inches from my face. He’s leaning over me, sliding his hand to my shoulder and just above it. “What are you doing?”

  “You fainted.” His rich, dark eyes flicker back and forth between mine, to my mouth and back. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  Fainted? How could I have? I shake my head, but it makes me woozy. Dropping my head back, I settle into what feels like butter-soft leather. I’m too tired to talk and I’m cocooned in the scent of Braxton and the brush of his fingers over my shoulder.

  “Are you okay? You collapsed and then passed out.”

  “I’m pregnant and I’m puking all day long, but I’m fine. My midwife says it’ll pass in a few more weeks.”

  I force my lids open. I’m so tired. So miserable. I can barely eat anything and when I do, the food rarely stays down. My diet consists of saltine crackers and tiny little ginger candies that are supposed to help with the nausea, but even those are mostly worthless.

  “I’d feel better if we get you checked out anyway.”

  I could fight him. Except I don’t have the energy to push him away or even undo the seat belt he strapped me into. Plus, he’s still leaning into the passenger side of his car, his eyes so close to mine and his lips that are so completely beautiful and full and soft. I shudder, unable to stop the memories from rushing through me.