8. Tainted Thoughts

I clean when I'm stressed. Brad's housekeeper, a mature woman pushing sixty, doesn't exactly do the super job he thinks she does, so I get on my knees scrubbing floors once a week. Not an obsessive thing, simply a matter of possessing great eyesight compared to her.

With Remy crawling or walking around, floor cleaning seems necessary now more than ever before. It's also a decent arm and stretching work out, and it helps me mentally process things.

Like how it's been a week since I rode the elevator with Tucker and not a peep from him. To make matters worse, I broke down last night and spied on his social media accounts, noting the sheer volume of comments from women there. Several of them stating they'd be watching him at the Vipers game and want to party after.

What did I expect? For him to set aside his playboy status and jump immediately into finding out if he's the father? To morph suddenly into the dad Remy deserves overnight?

Brad's words about guys in sports are like monks in my head chanting "I told you so" over and over.

Of course, I know Tucker's the father to Remy. I lied to him. There was no one else I dated at the time. On one hand, I can count the number of men I'd been with over the years. I simply told him that because I needed time to figure out how to tell Brad about Tucker.

Everything happened so fast. I figured the paternity test would slow things down. Besides, it's probably good for him to have proof he's the father, so there's no questions moving forward.

What exactly will that look like? Will Tucker take responsibility, share custody, be there for Remy no matter what?

I lean back on my haunches and wipe my brow. The second I pause my action, though, that night rushes back to me again, starting with the big fight Brad and I had at the hotel in Montana. We were there to attend the wedding of one of his clients, Duke marrying Phoebe, and it'd been a long day of travel from California with delayed flights out of L.A. and Salt Lake City.

We got on each other's nerves more than usual, and I didn't know why I even bothered to attend the wedding with him in the first place when I wouldn't know anyone. But Brad likes me by his side at some of his events and conferences. As a gay man, he's never been fully out, maybe due to the tough male culture within sports.

Honestly, he asks so little of me, but gives so much to provide for us. He's been my guardian since my preteen years, pays for my education, I live with him rent-free, and he buys whatever Remy and I need or want or didn't even know we needed.He spoils us.

Usually, I tolerate Brad's control, and his request for me to attend things, but this trip had been too much, landing right in the middle of a summer intensive I was taking at Pepperdine for my law degree.

So I overheated and went off on him. Tempers boiled over, and I made an excuse with a migraine, leaving Brad to attend the wedding and reception alone.

Of course, I was perfectly fine, and later headed to the country bar next to our hotel, hoping I'd at least see some Montana cowboys for entertainment.

That's where I met… "Tucker."I groan, scrubbing the floor slower, my fingers digging into the wet sponge like I dug into his hair when his head was between my legs that night.

Naked with him in his room, his fingers trail up my spine, sending shivers through my body. He leans in close and whispers in my ear, his warm breath tickling my neck. "I'm going to make you feel so good, Trouble."

He lays me down and his lips graze along my earlobe, tingling sensations firing up my body.

"Yes, please," I moan as he trails down my neck, stopping over my nipples, already pert from the cool air.

His tongue swirls around them in warm circles, taking me higher and higher until I can barely form coherent words. "Oh yes," I sigh on a breathy whisper.

He continues pursuing with gentle nips and sucks from his lips down my body. His fingertips trace a fiery trail along my skin until they reach the apex of my thighs. Slowly, he spreads me open with his hands, caressing me before leaning in closer.

My fingers tangle in his hair and guide him, and I let out a moan as his tongue seeks through my folds.When he flicks against my sensitive clit my back arches. His fingers join in, sliding inside of me, adding another level of ecstasy.

"Mm. Right there," I gasp. He licks and sucks like a man with plenty of experience. I don't want to think about him like that. I know I'm not this sexy stranger's first, and probably not his last.

I lose myself to him and this intimate dance, reaching a fiery explosion. My legs quake, and my insides tighten, locking his head there where he probably can't breathe until I free him, collapsing on the bed, panting.

"That's one. I promised three," his voice says, dark and syrupy. Suddenly, hands are on my waist and he's lifting me, planting me upright on his face. "You wanted a cowboy. So, ride me, Trouble."

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, and I yelp, shocking me to here and now and Brad's home in L.A. and my knees hurting in the tile floor. Upon seeing the name "Mr. Trouble" on my phone, my heart skips. But no matter our one sexy night in the past, I have my doubts about him.

He finally calls. Like Remy and I are just afterthoughts. That should tell me everything. I let Brad's words about players in sports taint my thoughts before we even begin.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Trouble." His voice in my ear takes me back, but no, I need to stay grounded in the present, for Remy's sake.

"So, you finally call. I thought you'd forgotten about me." My bitchy tone comes out a tiny bit, not something I use often. But in my studies as a lawyer, I've realized the need to adopt a stronger tone on occasion.

"Never. Don't think for a minute you and Remy haven't been on my mind. You're all I've been thinking about." His husky tone gives me pause. Like that night with all the dirty words he sprinkled into my ear while thrusting inside of me so good.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach.

"Look, between practice and games, I have little time for much else," he explains. "But I've spent my time wisely this week researching paternity tests and talking with my lawyer and accountant. I ordered a test from Amazon and it arrived today."

"Amazon? You're going to trust a cheap test from there to determine if you're the father of my child? I'm sure Remy's doctor could handle the test." I offer and already had checked into it.

"Apparently, many people do, according to seven thousand reviews. There are some cotton swabs we dab at our cheeks. We mail them in, and it says we'll have results within two days. Of course, we could do both the test and the doctor, just to be sure, like a second opinion," he suggests.

I bite back a response about how slutty he must think I am that he needs two tests. I should come clean, tell him he's it, but it's probably best he has proof, setting his mind at ease, anyway.

"So, when can I come over to do the swabs? I'm going to need one for the baby and one for me," he explains.

My clit immediately screams Come on over right now, but I try to remain in control and scramble up off the floor. This is all getting to close to home, but at the same time, I'm impressed he did all of this.

I check the calendar on my refrigerator to look at Brad's schedule. He's out-of-town Saturday through Monday.

"Tomorrow would be fine."

"I have a game, but it's here in L.A. You two could come and meet me there? I'd love to see you in the crowd. We could have dinner after."

I've never been to a hockey game in my life. "I don't think so. A game would keep Remy up past his bedtime."

"Oh, right. Uh, Sunday night then?"

We settle on a time and before I can click off, he says, "By the way, you could have called me this week. You have my number."

"I've been busy as well. Remy had a little bug for a couple of days, and that always throws off my plans. Not to mention finals are coming up."

"Being a single mom this whole time must have been challenging."

"Brad's been there for me, as much as he can be," I assure him.

"Well, let me say this. If I'm the father, I'll be there."

I suck in a breath. "Yeah, okay."

"And even if I'm not the father. Look, I have to go. Text me your address and I'll see you then."

What does that mean? Even if I'm not… Everything hits me like a ton of bricks. A week from now, when he finds out he's the father, I'll have to deal with Brad and Tucker, and my life will take a turn. For the better? Am I ready for this?