42. Be My Baby-Doggie Mama
OLIVIA
“Can I help you, grumpy pants?”
Carter pins his arms across his chest, scowling at me from across the room, where he looks anything but relaxed in the La-Z-Boy he’s lounging in. In fact, he looks quite grumpy, hence the nickname. “I’m not a grumpy pants.”
“You’re being a grumpy pants.”
“Obviously I’m being a grumpy pants!” He flails a flappy hand through the air. “Every time we’re here you ditch me for those two. So if you want to help me, you can get your sweet ass over here and plant it in my lap.”
“Sharing is caring, Carter,” Hank murmurs from beside me, his hand tucked tenderly into mine as I scratch Dublin’s head in my lap with my free hand.
“Plus, I haven’t seen you two since you got back from your Spring Break escapades.
” He chuckles to himself. “Well, I’ve never seen you, but you know what I mean. ”
“Fucking—” Carter scrubs a hand over his face. “You’re the only blind man I know who makes fun of the fact that he’s blind.”
“I think I’m the only blind man you know, period. And if I can’t poke some fun at myself, then what is life all about?” Hank slings an arm around my shoulders. “You’re just mad ’cause I’ve got your lady. Don’t be upset; I’ve always been somewhat of a ladies’ man.”
“You met Ireland at fourteen, started dating her at fifteen, married her at eighteen, and have never been with another woman.” Carter pats his lap and wags his brows at me, trying to entice me over there. He rolls his eyes when I don’t respond. “I’d hardly call that a ladies’ man.”
“You sound jealous.” It’s a wonder these two aren’t actually related, because Hank sounds as smug as Carter right now. “Why don’t you quit your complaining and come sit on Ollie’s other side?”
“’Cause your damn dog is there, all up in her business!”
Dublin lifts his head to look at Carter. It’s one of those adorable, head-cocking looks, all sad chocolate eyes and floppy ears.
Carter sighs. “Yeah, yeah. You’re cute, everyone loves you; we get it, Dubs.”
Laughing, I shift Dublin closer to me and free a space on the couch, patting it with my hand. “Come here, you big baby.”
To say Carter doesn’t spring to his feet and haul ass over to the free spot would be a lie.
Three months together and this man still hates every bit of unnecessary distance between us.
I can’t say I mind. His love language is physical intimacy and I love to give him what he needs, which is why my fingers curl around his the second he sinks down beside the dog.
His lips touch my shoulder, a whispered I love you kissing my skin.
“Speaking of babies…”
My shoulders tense at Hank’s words. It’s been well over a month since Alannah dropped the marriage and babies bomb on the reporters outside Carter’s hockey game, and while we’ve managed to avoid directly addressing it, Carter’s taken to walking around the house calling himself a DILF whenever the opportunity arises.
I even caught him trying to change his contact name in my phone from World’s Sexiest Man to World’s Sexiest DILF .
I have to continuously remind myself that it’s way too early to be thinking of weddings and babies.
I’d like to live in the present, enjoy every moment we spend getting to know each other deeper, rather than wonder about the future.
And yet, when Hank finishes his sentence, it’s not at all what I expected.
“When are you gonna get a dog?”
I look to Carter, one hand buried in Dublin’s fur, longing gaze set on the dog as his free hand rubs methodically over the back of mine. “Do you want a dog?”
He nods. “We had Max growing up. He passed away when I was fifteen. My parents wouldn’t let us get another because my training for hockey and Jennie’s dance was getting so intense.
We were barely home. They said it wasn’t fair to the dog.
” A side smile touches his lips as he pushes one of Dublin’s silky golden ears back.
“I was so mad at my parents. I didn’t see it at the time, but I know now they were right.
It wouldn’t have been fair to be passing him off to family members to watch all the time, and it still wouldn’t be. ”
Before my frown can set in, Hank shakes my knee. “But that’s not true anymore, Carter. You’ve got Miss Olivia here. Your old excuse that you don’t have someone to stay home with him when you’re gone has, quite frankly, gone to shit, son.”
“I’d watch your dog for you,” I blurt.
Carter smiles tenderly and squeezes my hand. “Someday.”
“Great. And speaking of dogs, when are you two gonna think about having babies and making me some type of pseudo-grandfather?”
“Speaking of dogs, when are we having babies?” Carter pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing the corners of his eyes. “That makes no fucking sense, old man.”
“Well, stepdaddy Carter is all the hot gossip lately.”
Hank’s not wrong, though I wish he was. The articles that have come out since we brought Jem and Alannah to the hockey game back at the beginning of March have been relentless. For people who are everywhere and know everything, sometimes they don’t know shit.
It didn’t take them long to figure out that I’m a teacher.
When Carter makes it a habit to stop by the school, it’s not difficult.
Also doesn’t help when one of your students tells the media he knows Carter Beckett’s girlfriend.
The article was fine, but that’s beside the point.
It took me all of twenty minutes to find out who it was, and when I asked him how much money he got for telling them what I do and which school I work at, he proudly flashed me a hundred-dollar bill.
He brought me tea and a cookie the next morning and proclaimed we were even.
I’m not sure he still felt that way when I “accidentally” missed one of his laps during his three-mile run and made him do an extra.
“These journalists know everything about his life and mine,” I say, “yet they haven’t figured out that Alannah and Jem aren’t my kids.”
“Oh, they know,” Carter replies coolly. “It’s just way more interesting if you’re a struggling single mom and I’m the hot step-DILF swooping in.”
“You keep saying that, but you’re the only one who calls yourself a DILF.”
“Nuh-uh!” He screws around on his phone before flipping me a photo of him with Jem on his shoulders and Alannah’s hand in his as we walk through a grocery store with a basket of junk food.
He clears his throat, reading off the title of the article with an air of arrogance that could only belong to him.
“‘ Carter Beckett: reformed playboy, People’s Sexiest Man, hockey phenomenon, and now the stepdaddy we’d all like to F ! ’”
I’ve seen this article, of course. Cara sent it to me, as did my sister-in-law, and my mother. All three of them eagerly agreed with every word, even Kristin, who actually birthed the children in question.
“Sometimes I think you write these articles yourself.”
Hank snorts a laugh. “My personal favorite was the pregnancy one. Called Carter to see if I was the last to find out.” He gasps suddenly, leaning forward to find his tablet on the coffee table.
His shirt comes untucked from the waist of his jeans, riding up his back, showcasing a nasty-looking bruise that has Carter leaping to his feet. “Speaking of getting knocked up—”
“ Hank ! What happened?” Carter gingerly touches his back while Hank swats him away.
“Oh, quit your worrying. I’m fine.”
“Fine? You’re black and blue! It’s the size of my hand!”
“Barely even hurts anymore. Must’ve been singing and dancing a little too enthusiastically in the shower the other day. Slipped on a puddle on the floor when I stepped out of the shower.”
It doesn’t seem to ease Carter’s worry, and after he helps Hank back to his seat, there’s a slick tick in his jaw that won’t quit. I lay my hand over his, stopping the incessant drumming of his fingers on his thigh.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You weren’t in town. Look, Carter, I know you’re concerned, but I’m okay. I got up, brushed myself off. Dublin stayed by my side.” He ruffles Dublin’s ears. “Didn’t ya, Dubs? Yes you did. You’re my good boy.”
“You can always call me, Hank, okay?” I squeeze his hand gently. “We don’t need Carter to be around for us to hang out.”
“Oooh-ho-ho.” His grin is electric. “You hear that, Carter? I’m movin’ in on your girl.” He shakes his tablet. “Anyway, as I was saying, Ollie, I picked our next book. A whole series, actually. Owned, Claimed, Ruined . Reviews say it’s one hell of a juicy read.”
Carter’s eyes widen, and when he brackets his face between his hands, I barely hear the way he breathes out, “What the fuuuck.”
* * *
“You sure you wanna wear that? Your legs might get cold.”
“Of course I’m sure.” Jennie twirls, hands on her lower back as she tries to look at her own ass in her plum leather miniskirt. “My ass looks fantastic in this.”
Carter’s face screws up, eyes narrowing.
“You look hot as fuck.” Cara gives her ass a pat-pat . “Gonna have all the boys—”
“No.” Carter shakes his head as he cracks the top off a beer and drains half of it. “No.”
“I think you look pretty,” Garrett says. I wonder if he realizes he’s halfway to yelling. Probably, because his ears burn red and he promptly strides away, sinking down to the couch.
“I reserved us a private booth with service,” Carter says. “We can stay there. No need to head out to the dance floor.”
Emmett mouths Sorry to Jennie, who rolls her eyes.
“Why the hell are we going to a dance club if you’re not gonna let us dance?
” Cara flicks Carter between the eyebrows.
“You guys just won the first round of the play-offs; we should be celebrating! And if Jennie wants to celebrate by shaking her ass and grinding against something hard, then so be it. She’s an adult. ”