42
BE MY BABYDOGGIE MAMA
Olivia
“CAN I HELP YOU, GRUMPY pants?”
Carter pins his arms across his chest, looking 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 ails a appy hand through the air. “Every time we’re here you ditch me for those two.”
“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.”
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 fteen, 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 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 oppy 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 ngers 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 name in my phone to World’s Sexiest DILF. I continuously remind myself it’s way too early to be thinking of weddings and babies. I want 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 nishes 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 fteen. 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 sad 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 o to family members to watch all the time, and it still wouldn’t be.”
“I’d watch your dog for you,” I blurt.
Carter smiles tenderly and squeezes my hand. “Someday.”
“Great,” says Hank. “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 rubs 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.
“These journalists know everything about his life and mine,” I say, “yet they haven’t gured 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 ipping 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 o the title of the article with an air of arrogance that could only belong to him. “‘Carter Beckett: reformed playboy, People’s Sexiest Man Alive, hockey phenomenon, and now the stepdaddy we’d all like to F!’”
“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 nd out.” He gasps suddenly, leaning forward to nd his tablet on the coee table. His shirt comes untucked from the waist of his jeans, riding up his back, showcasing a nasty 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 ne.”
“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 oor
when I stepped out.”
“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 o. Dublin stayed by my side.” He rues 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 miniskirt. “My ass looks fantastic in this.”
“You look hot as fuck.” Cara gives her ass a pat-pat. “Gonna have all the boys —”
“No.” Carter shakes his head, cracks 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 dashes 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 oor.”
“We’re going to a dance club; we’re fucking dancing.” Cara icks Carter between the eyebrows. “You guys just won the rst round of the play-os; we’re
celebrating! And if Jennie wants to celebrate by shaking her ass and grinding against something hard, then so be it. She’s an adult.”
“I wouldn’t mind dancing,” Adam says with a hopeful smile. “Maybe I’ll meet someone.” He frowns. “No, wait. Maybe I’m not ready.” He shakes his head and brings his beer to his lips. “No, I’m not ready. I’ll stay at the booth.”
I squeeze his arm. “You’ll meet someone when you’re ready, and she’ll be perfect.”
“Yeah,” Garrett calls over his shoulder. “If Carter can nd someone, it’ll be
easy as pie for you, bud.”
“You’re single!” Carter hollers.
“Yeah, by choice.”
“No, because you’re annoying!”
“You’re annoying!” Garrett hooks his foot around Carter’s knee, and when he goes tumbling to the living room oor, Carter brings him with him.
“Children,” Emmett mutters as the two of them wrestle. “So embarrassing.”
Adam nods. “The irony is that I’m the youngest.”
“Denitely the most mature though,” Emmett replies, sipping his beer.
“Oh, denitely.”
I can’t tell you how typical this is—the boys bickering, rolling around. The most embarrassing part is that I nd it—ugh, I don’t even want to say it— endearing. This group of men loves each other so much, and watching them be total goofballs is such a stark contrast to the intimidating way they carry themselves on the ice.
“Your boyfriend’s a jerk,” Garrett mumbles when I take a seat beside him on the couch. He’s trying to x his hair but it’s no use, so he stus his hat back on his head. “You should run while you still can.”
Jennie sinks down between us, slinging one leg over the other, and Garrett’s turquoise eyes widen, staring at the strappy black heel bouncing next to his knee.
“Hey. Hi.” He drags his palms down his thighs. “Do you have enough… Do you want some more… Let me give you some space.” He rockets to his feet, knocking his hat o his head when he shoves his ngers through his hair.
“Anybody want another beer?”
I snicker-snort, nudging Jennie. “Garrett might be scared of you.”
“As he should be. I could kick his ass from here all the way back to the east coast.”
I don’t at all doubt it. Jennie and I have been taking horseback riding lessons since mid-March, courtesy of her blackmailing her brother. Not only have I learned she’s almost entirely a female replica of Carter—condent and lacking a lter—she’s erce as hell too. I get to ride a horse every Wednesday after work, but more importantly, I’ve found an incredible friend in Jennie.
We’ve still got an hour to go before our ride comes, so the boys lose themselves in a game of beer pong, one I’m not allowed to play because Carter says I cheat, but he’s just a sore loser. When he takes a ping-pong ball o the head for the third time, I know something’s up. He climbs the stairs, muttering something about checking the plumbing of all things, and I give him two minutes before I follow, locating him on the balcony, leaning over the railing.
He’s been o all afternoon since we got back from Hank’s, and I think I know why.
Leaning beside him, I nudge his shoulder with mine. “Hey, you.”
He kisses my forehead. “Hey, princess.”
I follow his gaze, looking out at the sea of evergreens, the caps of the mountains that seem nearly blue from here. Carter’s not really looking though. I can tell by the way his gaze never wavers, the small crease between his brows.
I slip my hand over his. “You’re worried about Hank.”
“He’s getting older. He doesn’t get around on his own the way he used to.
And that bruise… What if he hadn’t been able to get up? Why didn’t he call any of us?”
“He likes his independence, Carter. He’s fought for it.”
He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I worry one day he’ll need me and won’t be able to reach the phone. Maybe I should hire a nurse to come in and help him with things a few times a week. Is that a good idea?”
“It’s a great idea, but it’s a conversation you need to have with Hank.”
He kisses my temple. “Can we stay here a few more minutes? I like when it’s just me and you.”
When I nod, he pulls me against his chest, his chin on my shoulder. The late- April air is warm, especially after the winter from hell we had, but it’s nothing
compared to the heat of him when he holds me.
“I’m going to miss you.”
“I know, pumpkin. Me too. But the nice part about play-os is it’s never more than two nights away from home.”
“I think I was getting used to it, the partial loneliness.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I don’t want him to think I’m lonely or unhappy; nothing could be further from the truth. I’ve learned to treasure what little time we have together, the nights I get to fall asleep in his arms, and we’ve made the most out of those eeting moments. But they swept Arizona in four games, which means the boys have been here in Vancouver for a few extra days before their next round. “Sleeping with you so many nights in a row has spoiled me, that’s all.”
“I hate leaving you, Ollie. I’ve never been so eager for the o-season. No hockey, no school, just me and you. You’re gonna be so sick of me come
September.”
“Impossible.”
Carter’s breath dusts over my neck, each inhale more staggered than the last as his ngers methodically brush my arm. He’s anxious, but since we’ve talked about Hank, I’m not sure why.
“When are you going to move in with me?” The request is a gentle, timid whisper against my shoulder, making my entire body tingle and warm, right down to my toes.
I twist in his hold, the golden glow of the spring sun shining on his unexpectedly bashful expression. “Move in with you?”
He runs an anxious hand through his messy mop of hair before twining his ngers with mine.
“I love you,” he starts with the phrase he loves to repeat at least a hundred times a day. “I love you so much, and I know it’s soon, but fuck, Ollie, I just really love you. When I’m gone, all I can think about is cuddling you on the couch, or falling asleep with you in my arms, or you walking around the house in the morning wearing nothing but my T-shirt with your sleepy smile, your curls trying to escape from your messy bun. When I get o the plane, you’re the rst
person I want to see. And when I’m home… I want you to be home too. I want us to be home together.”
How did I nd this man? How did I get so irrefutably lucky? Carter’s the best thing in my life with the way he stormed in, tore down walls I didn’t know I had, lit my whole world up like a burst of sunshine. And I can’t imagine anything better than being home together.
“What if I want you to move in with me?” I don’t. My tiny house feels like it’s bursting when Carter’s inside. His legs dangle o my bed and my kitchen only has the capacity to hold enough food to last the man two days, at most.
More than that, it doesn’t quite feel like my home anymore.
But I like to tease him, and when he’s nervous like this, a little humor goes a long way in defusing his tension.
Emerald eyes dance when they meet mine. “But where will I park my ve cars? We won’t be able to t our doggie on the bed, and we’ll have no room for all the babies I’m going to put inside you, ultimately destroying your vagina beyond repair. But worst of all…” He drags his mouth across mine, voice low, thick. “No replaces.”
He cups my face, his thumb brushing my lower lip. “I don’t want you to watch my dog while I go away. I want to get a dog with you. I want you to be my
baby-doggie mama.”
“Baby-doggie mama?”
“And eventually real-baby mama. I love you, Ollie, and what I want more than anything is to make a home with you. Say yes.”
“Say yes? Is that a demand?”
“Obviously.”
I bite back my smile. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His eyes bounce between mine. “Is that a yes?”
“I didn’t think I had a choice where demands were concerned.” I push his unruly waves o his forehead. “There’s nothing I’d love more than building a life with you here. So, yes. A thousand times yes. I’ll move in with you.”
His shaky hands bracket my face, and he closes his eyes, resting his forehead against mine. Then, with a squeal, he hoists me into this arms and dashes down the stairs.
“She said yes!”
The volume in the room promptly dies, and I drop my face to my hand as every surprised gaze lifts to us.
“You’re getting married?” Garrett nally asks.
Carter’s face scrunches. “What? I mean, eventually, yeah, but…” He drops me to my feet, spreads his arms wide, and does a spin. “Olivia’s moving in!”
