She raises an eyebrow. “I wasn’t judging, honey. I was just thinking that sounded like a nice Saturday.”
I let out a barking laugh. “That’s not quite my speed.”
“Never too laaaate,” she croons, wagging a finger at me. “Well, the knocking up part maybe. But the rest… you should see the bingo crowd after a couple of drinks.” She winks and breezes through the bakery door.
Wide-eyed, I watch her go, my tongue glued to the roof of my mouth. She has to be joking… right? Kind of makes you wonder what they put in the punch on bingo night, though.
Trying to rid myself of mental images best left alone, I give my head a shake, wishing my brain could be erased like an etch-a-sketch. “One, two, three, four, five,” I whisper quickly, placing my hand on the knob and turning it before I can chicken out.
The second my shoe hits the aged wooden floors, I spot them. Two massive figures sitting at a dainty table in the corner. They look as anxious as I feel, and that shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. One of them taps his foot against the wood boards, the other has a pile of shredded paper napkins in front of him; a small mountain of fluffy confetti.
Jameson, the taller of the pair, glances up, meeting my eye and sending my heart racing like a runaway train. Then Bobby looks up, following his husband’s gaze. They're instantly recognizable from the photos they posted on their profile, but both men seem to have under-sold their looks rather than exaggerating. It's a nice change from the dating apps I used to try. All of the cleverly angled selfies in the world can’t trick me anymore.
Not that this is a date. Their appearance doesn’t matter. Bobby and Jameson just want a child to love and care for, and that is enough for me. Still… they’re not hard on the eyes.
Jameson is tall, but not your average six-foot-one tall. He's like ‘holy shit, get your camera tall.’ He actually has to stoop to walk under the exposed beams of the antique ceiling. He's a bear of a man, with muscular bulk to match his unusual height. I'm reasonably sure he could pick me up with one hand.
His dark hair is cropped short, and he's sporting a neatly trimmed beard. It's a nice package all around, but his eyes steal the show. Even from across the room, the pale sapphire irises catch the light, giving his expression an intensity that grabs me by the throat… amongst other places.
Jameson may have caught my eye first, but Bobby is no slouch. He’s tall–normal tall–and fit, with sandy brown hair and a boyish face. Dimples sink in his cheeks, and his eyes have smile lines at the corners. He genuinely looks like he was born smiling and hasn't stopped since.
“Hailey?” Bobby speaks first, his expression hopeful. They have my picture, but it feels different meeting in person. Clearly. I did a double take and I’ve been staring at their pictures for weeks.
I nod and return his smile, but my throat feels like it’s going to swell shut. “It’s so good to meet you,” he says. “I’m dying to give you a hug, but you can tell me to fu-u-dge off.”
I laugh inwardly at the save, but can’t tear my eyes away from his face. “You can swear in front of me. I don’t mind.” It’s not like I haven’t heard it all. One of my foster families communicated almost exclusively in four-letter words, but that’s not something I need to share.
“And hugs are fine,” I add. Bobby’s smile grows even wider, and I wonder if it makes his face ache or if he’s just used to it. He wraps his arms around my body, palms pressing against my upper back.
God help me, I melt. I could try to lie to myself and say it’s just because no one ever hugs me. While it’s true I’m starved for human affection, or really affection of any kind, that’s not what this is.
He smells so good, like cologne and man and fabric softener. I breathe him in, my eyes fluttering shut. Far too soon, Bobby releases me, but the heat stirred up in my body doesn’t dissipate. Especially when Jameson nudges him aside, declaring “My turn.”
That’s enough to send a girl’s head spinning. God, almighty. If they want to take turns, I can’t promise I’d say no.
Except… the agency would absolutely fire me. They were the only one who accepted my application, despite not knowing anything about my father or his family history. If I want to be a surrogate and stay on the east coast, I can’t blow this.
The giant bends down to hug me, his enormous arms wrapping around me like a cocoon of solid, protective muscle. I’ve never had to suppress a whimper during a hug before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Come sit,” Jameson rumbles, releasing me. “I hope you like pie. Bobby’s a glutton when it comes to this place.”
Bobby rolls his eyes and pulls out a chair for me. “Oh, I’m the glutton? Who ate an entire sugar pie last Summer, huh? Not me, that’s for damn sure. I’m an apple pie guy,” he adds, speaking to me behind his hand in a conspiratorial way.
Jameson smirks under his beard. “It was my birthday pie, and I was—” He stops short, glancing at me, then Bobby as I take my seat.
“Hammered?” I supply the answer cheerfully.
“Maybe a little.” Jameson holds his thumb and pointer finger half an inch apart. Bobby snorts and spreads his arms as wide as they’ll go.
“Listen,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I want to be really transparent about all of this. I’m not here to judge. You both passed the background checks the agency runs. That’s plenty for me. If anything, I’m the one under scrutiny. I just hope I can be a good fit for both of you.”
Jameson cocks an eyebrow in my direction.Yikes. Did that sound dirty?I replay my words in my head.Oh, God.That definitely came out wrong, and now I’ll spend the next ten years over-analyzing it. Ha. Ten years. Who am I kidding? I’ll be kicking myself for that sentence on my deathbed.
“—as soon-to-be parents. Obviously.”Oh, real smooth. Nice recovery, Hailey.I bite my lip to make sure I can’t utter another word and deepen this pit of embarrassment I’ve already dug for myself.
3
BOBBY