Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

LEIGH

The pre-dawn light filters through the tiny guest house and bounces off the too cheery Christmas decorations I’m assuming Luca added around the guesthouse.

If he wasn’t such an asshole, it might be sweet.

I peer into the spare bedroom where Zach is still sleeping soundly, squeezing his stuffed horse.

My heart flutters in the way it can only do now that I’m a mother. It’s a blessing and a curse, really. With it comes the realization that he’s growing into an amazing kid, but also that each day is one closer to him being grown up. I never understood what my mother meant when she used to tell me I’d always be her baby.

Now I do.

He’ll always be the little boy who made me a mom.

But now I might have to share him.

With Luca, of all people.

My brow furrows and anxiety replaces the flutter in my chest as I replay his reaction to finding out Zach might not be his last night.

The whole night could’ve gone better.

It also could’ve gone worse.

So much worse.

I’d be lying if I said Luca’s anger didn’t catch me off guard. I thought he’d be happy to find out there’s a possibility he could keep his bachelor lifestyle. He’s the face of Donati Brothers Investments and Monarchs baseball. Every day is a game or grand opening of a new property or club. None of which is conducive to being a family man.

My thoughts drift to Willow’s dad. He lived for the Renegades, and his daughter paid the price. Not that she didn’t love going to the field, but it wasn’t exactly the family dynamic she dreamed of.

It’s not what I had growing up. A home filled with two loving parents who would do anything and everything to make me smile. I was the center of their world, just like Zach is mine.

The ache that returns every time I think of my parents slithers through me. Tears prick the corner of my eyes, and I swallow hard past the lump of emotion in my throat.

I really freaking miss them.

They would know what to do here.

My mom would tell me family is the most important thing, and my dad would remind me to listen to my mom.

They would have loved Zach.

And probably still hate Luca for everything he did to me.

But they would put Zach first.

Always.

Losing the battle against my tears, a single drop rolls down my cheek.

Damn it.

I want to use last night as a reason to head back to New York this morning, but now that I’ve laid on the dead-parental-guilt thick, there’s no way I’m leaving without at least trying to make amends with the asshole who may or may not be my son's father.

Trying being the operative word.

And I’m definitely not going to enjoy it, that’s for damn sure.

But first—before anything—coffee.

Twenty minutes of searching later, it’s apparent that Luca was wholly prepared for the arrival of my son. However, it’s also clear my best friends didn’t warn him of what an absolute terror I’ll become if I don’t get my morning cup of coffee—or three.

Pulling out my phone, I swipe to the baby monitor app, so I can keep an eye on Zach while in search of the second love of my life.

The sun warms my face despite the frigid morning temps as I exit the guesthouse and cross the small deck to the main house—if it can even be called that. Mansion is more like it.

On the outskirts of the main town of Telluride, the three-story house backs up against the mountain and allows for easy access to the slopes. Which answers how the guys showed up last night without Luca or me hearing them.

I test the side door and exhale a sigh of relief when I find it’s unlocked. It swings open into a mudroom equipped with lockers for ski equipment, along with a sink and wash bay, but that’s not what snags my attention the most.

It’s the heady aroma of my favorite breakfast beverage, making my mouth water. My nose knows a French dark roast when I smell it, and I’m helpless to do anything but follow the direction it’s coming from.

Exiting the mudroom, I find myself in a kitchen bigger than my entire New York apartment. Cupboards line one wall, separated by a full range and industrial-size refrigerator. Along the opposite wall, floor-to-ceiling windows offer breathtaking views of the mountainside. That view—coupled with the light color scheme of the kitchen—gives an airy feel to the space. It’s everything I would want in a kitchen. Including the ginormous island that splits the room, housing six barstools and, most importantly, a small wine fridge.

And every inch of it is covered in some type of garland or holiday decor.

“Wow,” I whisper. These guys don’t fuck around when it comes to Christmas.

“This is nothing. You should see the house we stayed at in Belize. Now that was luxury.”

Startled, I spin toward the disembodied voice that I’m pretty sure came from behind the cabinets.

“Um, hello?” I ask, taking a few more steps into the kitchen.

Just as I do, a head pops out of what I can now see is a galley style pantry behind the wall of cupboards. It’s the guy who came storming onto the deck last night, demanding to know who the hell I was. His medium brown skin has a bronze glow to it that makes me wonder if he’s also from California. God knows we aren’t getting that much sun in New York this time of year. Wet, curly black hair is plastered to his forehead from a shower or a workout, and the smile he’s got on his face is far too big for the sun only just coming up.

Then again, at least he’s in a better mood than he was last night.

“I’m guessing you’re here for coffee?” he asks, and I try to place his accent. It’s a mix between British and Australian—not too proper, but not quite laid back.

“Is there any other way to start the morning?” I counter as he disappears back into the pantry.

Navigating around the island, I follow him inside and my jaw drops at the sheer size. It’s practically a second kitchen with every appliance imaginable and fully stocked shelves.

Clearly unaffected by the pantry of my dreams, Luca’s friend continues as he pours each of us a mug.

“No, coffee is the nectar of the gods, but I’m the only one of the four of us that drinks the stuff. Enzo is snooty with his tea, and Luca becomes a damn energizer bunny if you give him even a drop of caffeine.”He kneels and pulls a carafe out of a hidden fridge in the cabinet below. “Cream?”

“Yes, please.” He steps back and allows me to pour a splash into the dark roast. “So Enzo likes tea and we need to avoid giving Luca coffee—that accounts for three of you.”

“Holt prefers some mushroom blend that he swears is the same as coffee, but really, he’s full of shit and it tastes like dirt.”

I scrunch my nose. “Who would disrespect coffee that way?”

“Exactly.”

The eyes of my coffee cohort watch me as I slip the carafe back in the fridge. It’s a bit unnerving, but I get it. I’m the girl who crashed their apparently sacred Christmas.

Rising to my full height, albeit way shorter than him, I lift my narrowed gaze to meet his caramel eyes. “So that accounts for three of the four. Which would make you?”

“Sebastian Hart.” He extends a hand, and when I place mine in his, he grips it firmly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.”

He huffs a laugh and brings my hand to lips, pressing a light kiss to my knuckles. “You can call me Bash. Especially If I’m about to be an uncle to your kid.”

So he’s the shameless flirt of the group.

Noted.

I raise a skeptical brow.“And who says you are?”

“You’re the baby momma, right?”

“Ha,” I scoff. He makes it sound so simple.“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Bash winks and, paired with the accent, I’m sure it’s a tactic to win over hearts and panties everywhere.

Too bad I’m immune to the bullshit of athletes.

Well, most of them anyway.

“Then I’m definitely Bash.” His smile falters. “Unless the kid’s not Luca’s. Then I guess we’ll have to see if he keeps you around.”

“What if I don’t keep him around?” I counter.

“Eh.” Bash shrugs and turns on his heel, heading back to the kitchen. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

My eyes go wide. He wouldn’t?

“Aren’t you supposed to be on his side?” What kind of friends does Luca have that they would side with a woman they just met? One he is clearly not a fan of at the moment.

“Oh, I am. But as his friend, I also know Luca is a special brand of extra. He jumps without looking and fumbles for his parachute on the way down.”

That is one hundred percent not how I would describe the Luca I remember. He was a minion of his parents—wealthy, calculating and self-serving. He didn’t do anything without an agenda.

Bash extends a hand toward the stool next to him, gesturing for me to join. “Plus, I really should be thanking you.”

“Thanking me?” I reluctantly lower myself onto the barstool, leaving one between us. I pull out my phone and prop it up on the lazy Susan in front of me in case Zach wakes up.

Bash leans over and looks before settling back into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “Absolutely, with you here, this means I can convince Luca to relax his rules of no woman at Bucket List Christmas.”

Laughter bubbles from me. It’s such a typical guy answer. And yet there’s a part of my heart—one I loathe to admit exists—that melts just a tiny bit at the thought that Luca is the one who protects this time with his friends. It’s something I understand. He’s the Indie of their group. Relating him to my own friend group almost makes him seem a bit more human. Which is not something I thought I’d equate to Luca.

Shit.

Does this mean I have to admit to Willow she might be right about him?

Might.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking, Baby Momma.”

Bash pulls me from my thoughts, and I look up to see him sipping his coffee. “I’m never gonna ditch that nickname, am I?”

He grins. “Probably not.”

“Great.” Frowning, I take a sip from the steaming mug in front of me.

It’s just the pick me up I need because the moment the coffee hits my lips, it takes everything in me to stifle a satisfying moan. This coffee is bold and sweet with a hint of spice, and I’m not sure where it came from, but I need to find out if I can get it in New York.

“So, what’s Bucket List Christmas?” I lean forward and plant my elbows on the island on either side of my coffee, resting my steepled fingers in front of my chin. “And why do you want to bring women?”

Bash’s eyebrows shoot up. “Luca didn’t tell you what you were walking in on?”

I chuckle. “It seems he has a habit of keeping secrets.”

“Then again, so do you.” His smirk says he’s playing, but also that he’s not afraid to call me on my bullshit.

“Well, you just say it how it is.” It’s refreshing, and I decide here and now I like this guy.

Bash shrugs and brings his mug to his lips. “Life’s too short not to.”

“Is this the part where you tell me that if I lie again and break his heart, you’ll break my face?”

“A pretty face like yours? No.” He tilts his head to the side dramatically, like he’s thinking far too hard for this early in the morning. “Though I can’t promise Holt won’t. He’s got a penchant for collecting teeth.”

My eyes bulge, and I nearly choke on the coffee I was attempting to swallow. “What?”

“He’s a hockey player,” Bash clarifies.

“Ahh.” I nod, making the connection. “For who?”

“He doesn’t play anymore. Nasty knee injury. Now he owns the San Diego Tide.”

“Wow, three team owners in one friend group.”

“Four,” Bash quips.

“Four?”

Bash takes another sip, then smiles and stands. Doing his best Vanna White impersonation, he swipes a hand across his chest, highlighting the team’s name under a large growling bear. “Four owners. The San Francisco Grizzlies are owned by yours truly.”

“So let me get this straight. You’re all team owners, and you celebrate Christmas together.” Who are these men, and how the hell did I get here with them? This is like something straight out of a Hallmark movie.

“Something like that.”

An amused cackle escapes me. “And I thought being friends with a bunch of Major League ballplayers was surreal.”

“So.” Bash sits down and leans forward, resting his elbows on the island with his head turned toward me. “Why are you really here, Leigh? Because I’m not buying this bullshit story that you’re here just for work.”

I look away, my stomach churning. What am I supposed to say?

The simple answer is my guilty conscience. Both in regards to Luca and the fact I don’t want to fail Willow and Renegade Hearts.

The complicated answer is—well, just that…complicated.

Not that I expect Bash to understand or even agree, but that’s all I got. So that’s what I go with.

“Initially, that’s exactly why I agreed to come. But also, I think there’s a part of me that wanted Luca to know about Zach. Even if he might not be his father. If he is, Zach deserves a dad.”

It’s more than I planned to reveal to one of Luca’s friends, but the moment the words leave my mouth, a small weight lifts off my chest. Maybe Bash is right—life’s too short not to say it how it is.

Bash presses his lips together thoughtfully. “You really don’t know who his dad is?”

It’s the million-dollar question that shouldn’t make me feel like shit, but does.

My eyes fall to the countertop. “No.”

No one has point blank called me a slut for sleeping with two guys so close together—least of all me—but that doesn’t mean I judge myself for it. That week was completely out of the ordinary for me. Historically, I’m a one-man-at-a-time kind of gal. It’s hard enough fitting one person in my schedule while running Renegade Hearts, let alone two. The other guy—I think his name was Tod. Maybe Tony. I don’t know. He was a victim of my once a year hook up with a random guy because I get a little twitchy and destructive around the anniversary of my parents’ death.

And Luca…well, he wasn’t part of the plan in any way, shape, or form. He just happened to be there during that moment of weakness with a hate fuck proposition I couldn’t pass up.

I’m not proud of myself, but I can’t be mad either.

That week gave me Zach.

Thirty seconds pass, and I brace for Bash to call me out. Fully ready to defend myself. But he doesn’t. Instead, with a soft, almost tender voice, he asks, “And if Luca is his dad?”

As much as I want to keep my eyes trained on the tiny flecks of gold on the marble countertop and ignore his question, I force myself to meet Bash’s. “It feels wrong having this conversation with you and not him.”

The right corner of his mouth twitches up, and he chuckles. “With as angry as he was last night, maybe it’s better you have it with me first.”

I consider his words. I’m stuck here at least until I can get the proposal for Monarch Hearts signed off on. And if Luca is Zach’s dad, I’d really like to be at least friendly co-parents with him. Plus, Bash is easy to talk to. And he’s given me a hell of a lot more insight into the man who might be the father of my child than I had when I arrived here.

“Well,” I sigh. “In that case, the honest answer is, it’s complicated.”

“How so?”

“Luca and I—We aren’t just strangers who hooked up and made a kid.” Though it would be so much easier if we were. “We have a history. And not a good one. He made my life miserable when I was a teenager.”

“He was a bit of a prick before we got ahold of him.” Bash laughs and finishes off the last bit of his coffee. “You hungry?”

As if it knew the question asked, my stomach rumbles. “Starving apparently.”

Bash claps his hands down on the island and smiles as he pushes himself up. “Good. Breakfast is my specialty. Does Zach like pancakes?”

“Loves them.” I smile, touched he’d consider my son.

“Perfect.”

I silently watch as Bash makes his way back into the pantry and comes out with his hands filled with everything needed to feed an army instead of five adults and a toddler.

“Do you need any help?” I ask, the manners my mother instilled in me shining through.

Bash drops everything on the island, the flour bag puffing out a giant white cloud. “I’m more of a solo man in the kitchen. But you can sit there and keep lookin’ gorgeous.”

I find myself rolling my eyes again. Something, it seems, that's impossible to avoid when chatting with Bash. Finishing off my coffee, I help myself to another. When I return to my seat at the island, Bash is humming to himself as he whips the batter together in a large bowl.

He reminds me a lot of the guys on the Renegades—grown ass adults, thriving at what they do, yet managing to somehow teeter the line of cocky and down to earth.

My dad used to say, you are the people you surround yourself with . Maybe that’s why I was drawn to Willow and Indie. I was the new kid who just wanted to be included, and they took me in like the little stray cat I was and made me a Rifton Academy elite right alongside them. I’m proud to call them my friends.

Bash is my first look into the people Luca has chosen to surround himself with—and I’m surprised to find out I don’t hate what I’m seeing.

“You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm.” Bash chuckles, lifting the whisk to check the batter’s consistency.“What’s got your lips twisted like that?”

I raise a playful brow and deflect. “So I have you guys to thank for the one-eighty in Luca’s personality?”

Bash brushes off his shoulder as if to congratulate himself. “I like to think so, but we can’t take all the credit.”

Rabid for more information, I shift to the edge of my seat and press. “Then what changed?”

Bash spins away from me and turns on one of the stove's six burners. “That’s a story for him to tell.”

Tension leaves my shoulders at his anticlimactic answer.

Well, shit.

Bash looks over his shoulder, his lips painted up in a smart-ass smirk.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. Giving me just enough that I’m practically salivating over every bit of information I can get about Luca, and then withholding the good stuff.

I lift my chin and pretend I’m not completely annoyed. “I see. Then can you at least tell me what Bucket List Christmas is?”

Bash raises a brow as if to say, now you’re asking the right question and offers me a wicked grin.

“That, I can do.”