Page 48 of Double Daddies (Dirty Daddies Anthologies #8)

Chapter Two

Ben

I only planned to watch. I told myself I just want to know the man who might have contributed the other half of Cami’s baby.

Ryle Whitney was shockingly easy to find.

There are only three Ryles living within thirty miles of us, and one was a man in his sixties with a loving life partner.

One was a junior in high school, so the only one left was Ryle Whitney.

Wait… is that him?

The second a tall, broad-shouldered man saunters by on the sidewalk, he’s got my attention. I quickly check the photo pulled up on my laptop, matching the dark hair, the height and weight.

Yep. It’s definitely him.

I didn’t think Cami would be into pretty boys.

My eyebrows practically raise to my hairline.

Objectively, he’s the kind of guy girls fall for with his dark hair, broad shoulders, and strong jawline.

Something about Ryle Whitney oozes wealth—the way he walks, the way he carries himself.

I’m a cop with a dream to make detective—I’ve gotten really good at reading people.

Also, he’s wearing a five-thousand-dollar Ralph Lauren suit just to get coffee, so there’s that.

Before I even know what I’m going to do, I’m throwing the door open and stepping out onto the sidewalk. There’s snow on the roads today, and the car door scrapes on the ice, nearly getting stuck. I slam it closed impatiently, looking up just in time to see him disappear into Kostas Coffee.

I shove my hands into my pockets and take my time walking around the car and down the sidewalk. I still can’t believe I’m in this mess. I know that no matter what, I’ll be standing by my girl, but it doesn’t make the situation suck any less.

I love Camille Rodgers more than I’ve ever loved anything.

It may not be manly to admit my affection for her trumps my die-hard, life-long obsession with the Bears, but it’s true.

And it’s been like that since the day I met her—a head-over-heels kind of love that grows deeper and more complex with each passing day.

It doesn’t feel like I expected it to. The way people talk about it, being in love is like losing your mind.

But I’ve never felt more sane—more rational.

Loving Cami feels natural, and empowering.

She didn’t make me want to be a better person.

When I’d given myself over to loving her, I’d realized I could be one.

And I’ve spent every day since giving my all to being the man she deserves. If I’m keeping score, I’ve only made one misstep, and that was about six weeks ago when I told my father I was going to propose.

“You’re barely out of college, son,” he’d scoffed. “You just finished the police academy.”

“Come on, Dad, I graduated two years ago ? —”

He’d waved my correction away. “I’m just saying you’re young. Maybe you ought to give it some time. Aren’t you the only serious boyfriend she’s ever had?”

“Yeah,” I’d reluctantly admitted.

“You both need to explore a little. See what else is out there.”

And like an idiot, I’d listened. It had only taken me two days to realize I’d made a huge mistake, but I’d been a day too late.

I don’t blame Cami. How can I? I was the one stupid enough to take advice from a man with three ex-wives on his ledger.

A man who’s paying so much alimony, he can barely afford beer and cigars.

He’s bitter, and I’d let him get in my head.

It’s all my fault, and I’ll be grateful if she allows me to spend the rest of my life making it up to her.

But now there’s a factor we didn’t plan on.

It might not be a factor, I remind myself, but my jaw tightens anyway. I’d meant every word I’d said to her—no matter the parentage, this baby will be ours. I don’t care about trifling things like DNA. Who knows better than I do that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be?

But still, if there’s even a bit of a chance, then I need to know more about this guy. I have to know if he’ll cause problems for us down the road.

I slip into the coffee shop and join the short line. There are two patrons between us, giving a comfortable buffer for me to observe without his noticing. He has his arms crossed casually, and out of the corner of my eye, I see the gleam of a gold watch on his wrist.

Ryle is now next in line, and my ears perk up as he begins to place his order. “Skinny latte with a half-pump of vanilla-almond milk, please.”

I wince. I know it’s 2025, but a guy ordering a skinny latte just reeks of pretentiousness.

“I’m sorry, sir, we’re actually out of almond milk. We do have cashew milk. Will that work?”

“I’m allergic to cashews,” Ryle replies, his voice taking on a scolding tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.” The cashier clearly is drawn into a spell Ryle seems to have cast. “What about oat milk?”

He sighs. “I suppose that’ll have to do.”

I roll my eyes. Seriously, guy?

I don’t know what makes me feel more uncomfortable—the fact that another man might be the father of my girlfriend’s baby, or the fact that it’s this guy.

We’ve been together all this time, I’ve been her only boyfriend. When she gets a chance to swim with the other fish in the sea, this is who she reels in? Why didn’t she throw him back?

Unfortunately, Cami is the only one who can answer those questions, and only if I let her know I scoped Ryle out in the first place. My gut instinct is that I don’t want her to know, and my gut is usually right.

Right now, it’s telling me this guy is a mega douche.

Maybe that’s what she’s into. Maybe she’s tasted what I have to offer, and she’s into douches now.

I shake my head, trying to throw off my insecurities.

When Ryle accepts his coffee and turns to leave, I glimpse his face up-close for the first time. Okay, so he’s good-looking, in a polished, well-manicured sort of way. If you like that kind of thing.

Which Cami obviously does. Fuck. If I’m not careful, this is going to bring my tally of mistakes up to two.

I do an about-face and walk out the door. I never should have walked through it in the first place. It was better when Ryle was a mystery, just some guy who happened to win the jackpot one night of his life. But now that I know more about him, I find myself doubting everything.

Stupid, stupid… I scold myself as I get back into my police cruiser. Stop it. She loves you. She chose you . Not Mr. Moneybags. That has to count for something… right?

I run my hands through my hair, trying to calm my mind. I need to focus on work right now and put these thoughts to bed. Normally, I’d talk to Cami about my feelings, but I know it’s not a great time.

A sudden rapping on the glass of my window causes me to look up, and I clench my jaw instantly.

Mr. Moneybags himself is looking at me through the window.

Ryle

I wait for the officer to roll his window down, assessing what I can in the meantime. I could tell he’s a fit guy when I’d glimpsed him in the café. Then again, most of the officers who patrol this district are.

The window rolls down slowly and the man gives me an appraising stare, much the same way I’m looking at him, I imagine.

“Can I help you?”

“I sure hope so. I was wondering why you’re following me.”

Surprise flickers over his face, but he quickly replaces it with a closed expression. “I’m sorry?”

“Don’t deny it.” I casually sip my coffee, fueled by the caffeine. “I saw you following me for a couple blocks. Then you just happen to come into the café after me?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, sir. It’s not a crime to want a cup of coffee last time I checked.”

“No,” I reply evenly, the corner of my mouth tipping. “But you didn’t actually buy any coffee, did you?”

The officer fights to maintain his poker face.

He’s good at it, I’ll have to give him that—too bad I’m better.

Most of the people who grew up with a privileged upbringing such as my own learn quickly that people just seek to use us.

As such, if you want to survive, you have to become quite adept at reading people.

“It’s not a crime to go into a coffee shop unless you leave without getting coffee? Is that what you’re going with?” He maintains eye contact, his expression nearly impassive.

But there’s something there in the depths of his eyes. It’s almost as though he dislikes me. Why? For being obviously rich? I’m used to that. This seems like something different—more personal—though I can’t imagine what it could be because I know I’ve never seen him before.

An ex-employee? A family member of an ex-employee with an axe to grind?

Those are the usual suspects, though neither quite fit this gentleman.

“Listen, you’ve got it wrong. Now, if you’ll excuse me, some of us actually have to work.”

I don’t rise to the bait. Comments like those are nothing I haven’t heard before.

I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone.

“I tell you what, we can settle this easily. It won’t take but a second for me to call Chief Bilkins and see what he thinks about this. We’re good friends, the chief and I.”

It’s an ass-hat thing to do, name-dropping like that, and I know it. But I don’t care—I just want to get to the bottom of this, and if I have to look like an asshat to a man I’ll never see again, so be it.

I’ve got him. I can see it the second my words register. He pales—the freckles on his face stand out starkly, making it clear my threat was a bullseye.

“Shall we try this again? Why were you following me, Officer?”

Cami

By the time my cellphone rings, I’m a jumble of anxiety and what I can no longer deny are the effects of pregnancy hormones. I put the phone up to my ear and blurt, “I think I did something stupid.”

“What?” Rayna sounds annoyed, and it’s no wonder. She’s on shift at the hospital and probably had to sneak into a closet to make this call in-between changing bedpans and reassuring frantic, first-time moms.