The Anchor (16 page)

“Mr. Reese—”

“Cut the bullshit, son,” he interrupts me this time. “Did you think impregnating my daughter would give you access to her wealth?”

My eyebrows rise to my hairline and I have to fight not to laugh. I had no idea Nikki came from money.

“Father,” Nikki whispers loudly.

“Nikki, I expected more from you,” he continues. “Now you’ve gotten yourself in to a real predicament and now I’m going to have to take care of you
and
a bastard baby.”

His words whip across the table like a lash. I have never felt rage like I am in this moment. It’s almost blinding and before I know it, I’m standing, my chair having flown back and slammed to the floor as I lean across the table, meeting her father’s hard stare with a glare. “Let me be clear, sir,” I seethe. “This is
my
child and I will take care of it and I’ll also be taking care of Nikki as well. So you can take your goddamned money and shove it up your tight, arrogant ass.”

So much for calming down.

“Parker,” Nikki begs as she pulls at my arm, but I’m not done yet.

“And when you’re old and alone, don’t come looking for your daughter or our ‘bastard’ child to connect with. Because it won’t happen.” With that, I stand and pull out my wallet and toss a fifty on the table. Then I take my Scotch and toss it back before grabbing Nikki’s hand tightly in my own.

“Say good-bye, Nicole.”

Her eyes dart from me to her father as he stands and adjusts his tie. “You’ve really found yourself a winner here, Nikki,” he remarks snidely. “You’ve never wanted for anything.” He shakes his head. “But maybe it’s time I let you handle life on your own. Maybe this . . .” he runs his eyes up and down my body with a look of disdained humor, “can take care of you. But I doubt it. Call me when things go to hell.”

“Parker . . . my hand,” Nikki says, softly. I hadn’t realized I’d been squeezing her hand so tightly, and we watch her father walk away. Turning to face her, I clench my teeth when I see the tears in her eyes she’s fighting not to let go of. She looks so lost. I know she’s scared about the baby; about me telling her we’re going to give us a shot. And now her father basically turned his back on her. I have to remind her that although it seems hard right now, this will all work out. I’ll make it so. I meant what I told her—I will be her anchor. I’ll hold her steady.

“Are you okay?”

She doesn’t answer, but nods and moves to leave. I pull her back to me and hug her tightly, not giving a shit that people at other tables are staring at us. Her arms weakly wrap around me and she presses her head to my chest. “It’s going to be okay. I know you don’t know me well, but I need you to trust me. I’m going to take care of you.” Her body trembles against mine as it succumbs to emotion. Fuck.

“Will you take me home?”

Taking her hand, I bring it to my mouth and kiss it softly. “Anything you want, babe.”

Parker has me direct him to the nearest grocery store and I wait in the car as he goes in and grabs the necessities for a dinner he wants to cook for me tonight. To say lunch did not go well with my father is putting it mildly. I never thought it would, but I didn’t think it would be quite so disastrous. If Parker hadn’t been there, it might have gone smoother. A part of me wants to be angry with him for intervening the way he did, but the other part of me is grateful that he did. He stood up for me. Something I’ve never been able to do when it comes to my father.

Once we’re back to my apartment, Parker sets the groceries on the counter and leads me back to my bedroom. When he goes into the bathroom, the sound of the tub faucet catches my attention and he emerges. “You,” he points to me as he approaches, “are taking a long, hot bath, beautiful woman.” Okay . . . even as emotionally drained as I am, I swoon a little over that line. And a hot bath sounds fantastic.

“Are you sure?” I ask as I kick off my heels, already obeying his demand.

Parker turns me and unzips my dress from the back, slipping it over my shoulders. “Yes,” he says. “Don’t come out until you’re pruney.” Placing a soft kiss on my left shoulder, he turns and heads out the door.

Once I submerge myself in the hot water, I let it wash everything away. Not just dirt and sweat, but the hurt and fear of the day. My father has disowned me. I’m pregnant and terrified. My future is a gigantic fucking question mark. But right now, I’m going to take solace in the fact that Parker is here, cooking dinner for me.

After my bath, I slather myself in cocoa butter—must stop the potential stretch marks—and slip on a robe. When I make it to the kitchen, a pan is simmering with something that smells amazing while Parker is leaned against the counter, the ultrasound photo in one hand and a beer in the other. His dress shirt is rolled up on his forearms, the button of his collar undone, and his hair outwardly carefree. He looks fucking incredible.

“Would you like one to take back with you?” I ask as I round the counter. “I can ask for a copy.” His gaze jumps to mine before it lingers slowly down my body, causing flutters in my belly.

“I would,” he answers before placing his beer on the counter along with the picture and stepping toward me. “You look so fucking beautiful,” he whispers as he leans in and kisses my neck. His warm mouth against my skin sends shivers down my spine. My body molds to him and when he nips my neck, I whimper. Then he pulls away and turns back to the stove.

“Dinner will be ready in a few,” he says, casually, as if he wasn’t just lighting my panties on fire. Well, I’m not wearing any, but if I were . . . they’d be on fire. His mouth curves slightly as if he’s fighting a smile. “Have a seat, beautiful.”

I glare at him where he can’t see, but decide two can play at this game. Spinning slowly, I walk to the breakfast bar and slide on a stool. Parker had put a plate out with sliced cucumbers and baby carrots. I tug at my robe a little so it opens, revealing the swell of my breasts, and lean back.

“Smells really good,” I comment as I take a baby carrot and nibble it. When he turns, his brows rise at the sight of me.

“It looks really good, too,” he answers as he turns the heat on the stove down before coming toward me.

“Wonder how it tastes?” I banter and his mouth quirks into a mischievous smile. Rounding the counter, he takes my stool and spins it so I’m facing him. Leaning down, he runs his tongue along the seam of my lips as one hand dips under the fabric of my robe and squeezes one of my breasts.

“I’m about to find out,” he murmurs before standing and pulling the sash of my robe and opening it. He slides the robe down my shoulders until it slips off and hangs on the back of the stool. Then, he drops to the floor, takes my knees and spreads my legs open.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says, his eyes honed in on my aching core. My nipples harden as his hands slide slowly up my thighs, until he reaches my ass. Grabbing me, he yanks me forward so that my back arches. Pulling my legs up and resting them on his shoulders, he kisses my inner thighs softly one time each, and then he attacks.

Parker Hayes is the most erotic man I’ve ever known. Here I am, on a stool, buck naked, with his beautiful tongue licking me like I’m a goddamned lollipop. My hands fist his hair and I moan as he takes me into euphoria. My body writhes against his face, begging for more, and he delivers, licking, sucking, and nipping. And just as I’m about to hit that peak, that sweet, wondrous moment of bliss, he stands as he thrusts two fingers inside of me. His mouth meets mine, slick with my arousal, as I cry out. Working his fingers in and out of me, he takes me to the edge and lets me fall over.

As I come down from the high, panting, Parker pulls his fingers from me and sucks each one as his dark eyes watch me. Shaking his head, he leans back down and sucks my nipple in his mouth before pulling away and sucking the other. “You taste really fucking good.”

When I move to straighten up, he grabs my robe and pulls it over my shoulders, helping me get it back on. After he ties my sash, he smiles, lifting his hand and grazing one finger across my cheek. “Fucking beautiful.”

He moves to walk away and I grab his hand. “Could we skip dinner?” I want him now. I want him naked and in my bed.

“You haven’t eaten a proper meal all day. Let me feed you first, beautiful.” Kissing my forehead, he pulls away as I pout. He pokes my bottom lip gently. “Don’t worry. I plan on having you for dessert tonight.”

Good-looking, successful, fan-fucking-tastic in bed,
and
he can cook. Is it possible one man can be so much of . . . all the good stuff? We’re sitting at my kitchen table, and I’m devouring the chicken Parker has made. It is divine. My eyes are closed as I take a bite and moan a little. When I open them, Parker is staring at me, a soft smile on his face.

“What?” I ask around the food in my mouth.

“You’re moaning. I like it.” He cuts into his chicken. “Of course, I’d rather you were under me while you do it, but . . .”

“There’s always dessert,” I tease.

“Yes, there is that. You want some more?”

“No,” I answer quickly, patting my stomach. “I’m stuffed. That was really good. Thank you.”

“It was the least I could do. I didn’t mean to flip out on your father like that. You never even got a chance to eat anything but a couple of crackers.”

I let my gaze fall to my plate as I remember the horrible things my father said. “Hey,” Parker says, and I raise my eyes to him. “I’m sorry.”

“You have no reason to be. He did call our baby a bastard.”

“It wasn’t just that,” Parker says, as he stands, taking his plate with him to the trash can and scraping it. “He just spoke so . . . condescendingly to you. I mean, I get it. You’re pregnant and unmarried . . . but you’re also twenty-four years old.”

“He takes care of me, Parker,” I blurt out.

He turns toward me and his brows furrow. “I gathered that.” My cheeks flame with embarrassment at his words. Yes, I’m the stereotypical rich kid who lives off her father. I’ve known since I graduated and came home I should be on my own, making my own way, but my father never argued about paying and I never brought it up. My car, my apartment, everything . . . he pays for it all.

“But now I will,” Parker adds after a moment. While his promise is comforting in one way, it hurts in another.

“I have a good amount in savings,” I add. “From pageants, but with the baby . . . I’m not going to be able to do those for a while . . . if ever again.” I’ve made a decent amount of money throughout the years. Pageants don’t pay much, but businesses have paid me to come and work events or help advertise for them, so I’ve done okay. My savings aren’t enough to sustain me for long, but at least I have something.

Parker sets his plate in the sink and turns and crosses his arms. “This baby won’t stop you, Nikki. Will it be hard for us? Yes. It will. But we’ll make it work.”

“How?” I question, my voice raising an octave as that all-too-familiar panic sets in. “You keep saying we’ll make it work, but how? We barely know each other.”

Parker lets his arms drop and comes to me. Pulling a chair from the table, he slides it in front of me and sits. Then, he leans down and takes my feet, putting them in his lap. Despite my panic, I can’t help the way my eyelids flutter as he begins massaging my feet.