Page 18 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

The question is a full-on sentence, a challenge for me to explain why having a baby with my brother’s best friend is a terrible idea. While I know that’s true and that there are a million reasons for it, the only thing I can focus on is the heat in his eyes … and the heat building in my core.

“This is the perfect answer,” he says. “You’ll realize it if you think about it.”

“This is … ridiculous! That’s what this is.”

“Ridiculous? I’m asking for a ninety-day commitment and I’m offering you eighteen years. I think it sounds pretty damn generous.”

I roll my eyes. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Do you not want a baby?”

“Yes.”

“I can give you that. I’ll pay child support. You’ll have a whole family waiting to embrace you and the baby. Hell, I’ll play by your rules. I’ll sign a contract—whatever you want. It wouldn’t want for a thing.”

Except the love of a father . “I can’t believe we’re discussing this right now. Yesterday, I was in a bikini in Vegas wanting to see a male strip show and today I’m married and discussing having your baby.”

“So you’re considering it?”

“ No. ”

He smirks. “You have to admit, our baby would hit the genetic lottery.”

I lean forward to smack him, but he catches my hand in the air. The feeling of his fingers wrapped around my wrist is electric. He releases me slowly, one digit at a time.

Once I’m free, I fall back onto the sofa cushions and drag in a shaky breath.

“To be perfectly honest with you, I want a kid too,” he says, flexing his fingers as if they’re buzzing from the contact like mine. “But I’ve never met someone I’d trust enough to have a child with … until now.”

“You’re just saying that to get what you want.”

“If you know me as well as you say you do, then you know the one thing I won’t do is lie.”

As much as I don’t want to admit it, he’s right. Renn Brewer isn’t a liar. That’s what gets him in trouble most of the time—his failure to pass the blame. Sure, he might skirt it and try to minimize the damage. But he never lies.

“Somehow, you just complicated the hell out of an already overcomplicated situation,” I say.

“Mr. Brewer,” Kimbra says. “May I please see you for a moment?”

He turns to me. I motion for him to go, thankful for the interruption.

“In exchange for you not ending it, I’ll give you a baby.”

I hold my forehead. What the hell is happening ? I chuckle quietly, in disbelief with myself. Could I still be drunk?

Although I want a baby with a man I love, I’m not sure I’ll ever find him.

People are weird. They have secrets. Having a child with someone means you’re bonded with them in one way or another for the rest of your life—or not.

But which is worse? Falling out of love with someone or having your child’s father not being in their life?

Renn’s voice drifts through the room and a warmth flows over me.

He has his flaws, sure, but he is a good person. I trust him—mostly. If he says he’ll play by my rules and sign a contract, I believe him. And he seems to have a strong family. Besides his father. Fuck that guy.

I was considering a sperm bank. Would having a child with Renn be that much worse? At least I know him, and he could be a part of our child’s life, maybe. Our child could have more than just me and Brock … Am I really considering this?

If he could stay out of the spotlight and not make a mockery of me—which, as Renn suggests, would be counterintuitive to this whole process—maybe this could work. It’s only a ninety-day investment, after all. Right ?

Why does this kind of make sense ?

“At least you look less shocked now,” he says, sitting again.

Less shocked? How am I looking less shocked? This is the most bizarre day I’ve ever had.

I shift in my seat. “ If I agreed, and I can’t believe I’m even entertaining this— what is wrong with me ?—I’m on birth control. I don’t know if I can get pregnant in ninety days.”

“If not, I’ll give you my DNA in a little cup or however they do it.”

“You realize you’re talking about a child like a business transaction, right?”

“Is it that much worse that getting pregnant accidentally with some guy you don’t even know?

You know me. Hell, we’re married.” He bites back a laugh.

“Look, you want a child, and I’m more than willing to give you one.

I’ll take care of it. I’ll be a part of its life.

I’m kind of excited about it. I get a kid, and I don’t have to deal with a woman I don’t like.

And it’ll even be conceived during our marriage, Blakely.

I don’t see why this is a terrible plan. ”

Fucking hell . “What if you’re in another relationship? Your new woman won’t like you giving me your DNA.”

“I’ll give it to you before we get divorced, and she’ll have to deal with it.”

“Can you even do that?”

He shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.” He leans against his knees again.

“Look, I’m serious about this. It’d be pretty great to be the father of your child.

But if you don’t want to do this, I respect that, and we’ll file for annulment as soon as we land.

I’ll protect you as much as I can from the media. You have my word.”

Kimbra returns, handing me a glass of red wine. She says something about moving to the dining room, but it sounds like gibberish.

Today has been too much in every sense of the word. But as I sip my drink and take in Renn—who is calmer than I would expect under the circumstances—the chaos in my head begins to settle.

The baby aside, because I’m not sure I can actually do that, if he can promise he’ll play the part of the doting husband for ninety days, would it be that terrible to pretend to be a loving wife? It’s just three months. Surely, I can use that time to benefit me somehow.

I set the wine down and find my purse. The receipt from the strip show is at the bottom; it’s the only piece of paper I can find. I pull out a lip liner and face a curious Renn.

“Ninety days,” I say sternly. “And if I’m to play the role of wife, you’re to play the role of husband. That means no wandering eye, no pictures with other women, no dates.”

He smiles. “Deal.”

“You agreed to that so easily. What about sex? Can you go that long without it?”

He smirks. “I said deal. ”

Fine . I scribble the agreed-upon length of commitment on the back of the receipt.

“And you’re filing for divorce,” I say. “Not me. And if anyone says I was after your money or whatever, you have to defend me.”

“That’s a guarantee.”

How is it this easy ? I add that to the receipt.

“You have to accompany me to events,” he says. “You have to live with me.”

“ Live with you ?”

“Live with me.” His eyes sparkle. “We have to sell it, baby.”

“Ugh.”

“No ice cream in the bed,” he says.

“I’m signing a prenup.”

“No prenup.”

“Renn …”

“ No prenup . It would be a postnup now anyway.”

I start to argue the point, but the look on his face stops me. “No co-mingling of money or assets.”

“Sure.”

Something about the glimmer in his eye concerns me.

“You have to let me treat you like my wife,” he says. “For ninety days, you are Mrs. Brewer.”

“Fine. But I don’t think you understand that I’m not the domestic type.”

“I didn’t marry you for your domestic abilities.”

“You married me because of an alcohol made from agave,” I say.

“We should name our first son that.”

I sigh as the whole baby thing hits me again. “I’m on the fence about the baby part of this, Renn. I’m not sure I want to do that.”

He narrows his eyes. “Can I choke you during sex?”

My insides burn so hot that I shift in my seat. “You said you could go ninety days without sex.”

“But you won’t be able to.” His smirk is so deep, so delicious, that I shiver. “And you also have to change your name.”

“That’s a little unnecessary for three months, don’t you think?”

“I want my wife to have my name,” he says with a casual shrug like we’re discussing the weather.

“You’re getting a little demanding for a man who needs this more than I do.”

He holds his hands in the air. “Fair. But that’s my last demand.”

“It better be,” I mumble, listing the rest of the agreements on the receipt. But as I lift the lip pencil, I think of one more thing. Maybe the most important of them all. I take a deep breath. “One more thing …”

“What?”

Our gazes lock in the middle of the walkway.

His features are free from the stress he’s carried all day. The playfulness he’s known for dances through his eyes.

My stomach clenches at the thought of doing this with Renn. But it sours just as quickly at the idea of getting too close to him.

Yup. Gotta add this .

I refuse to grow feelings for a man who will never reciprocate them. Who isn’t interested in love—especially mine.

“If either of us develops real feelings for the other,” I say, my voice quiet, “then we walk away immediately. No questions asked.”

He studies me for a long time, the playfulness turning somber.

My heart skips a beat, then two, as I hold my breath and wait on his response. Just as I’m about to tell him to forget the whole thing—that we’re both out of our heads, he stands.

“I agree,” he says, offering me a hand.

I set the receipt and pencil beside the snacks and tentatively place my hand in his.

He jerks me to my feet faster than I anticipate, and I’m hauled into his chest. My body crashes into his, his hardness to my softness. And just like that, I melt into him.

His smile is wicked.

“What?” I ask, nearly panting at the way he’s looking at me.

“I’m just deciding whether I should kiss you here or wait until we land.”

I lick my lips. He follows the trail of my tongue with his eyes.

“You might want to do it here,” I say, my heart thumping. “Our first kiss shouldn’t be in front of people, you know, in case it’s awkward.”

He locks his hands on the small of my back. “You’re right.”

I lift on my tiptoes, my hands on his shoulders. “I’m always right.”

“Kimbra is watching, so we better wait.”

He winks and lets me go.

What the hell?

“We’re about to have our first marital fight,” I say, my body screaming for him to come back.

His laughter fills the air. “Wait until we get to where we’re going before we fight. Because you’re going to look so hot on your knees, begging me to forgive you.”

With a lingering look, he walks away.