Rachael Johns - Pregnant By Mr Wrong

“Okay. What kind of event were you thinking?”

He slowly shrugged those big sexy shoulders and she tried not to stare. “Intimate but special. A few of her closest friends and family. A band, maybe a small dance floor. I was thinking we could hire a small marquee and hold the party at the distillery. If it’s still cold, we’ll also hire some heaters for the marquee. I’m sure Lachlan would be interested in catering and testing out some of his new recipes.”

“You haven’t asked him yet?”

He rubbed his lips one over the other. “I wanted to run the idea past you first.”

“Why me? There are other event planners in the vicinity.”

“Because you’re the best.”

The way he said best, and the way he stared intently at her as he did so, wreaked havoc with her already errant hormones. It was almost as if he wasn’t simply referring to her work, but that thought was ridiculous. She tried to push it out of her mind.

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” she joked.

His lips curled into another grin. “Is that a yes?”

She nodded while silently questioning her sanity. “Have you decided on a date yet?”

“How about we meet for lunch tomorrow and talk details then? You can tell me what else you need from me to get started.”

Lunch? He sounded like he might be a whole lot more involved in the planning than she’d imagined. Her stomach flipped at the thought of spending too much time with Quinn, but maybe working with him to organize this party would help her body and her hormones settle down. Because if she did tell him about the baby, they’d be linked forever and she’d need to be able to talk to him about their child’s welfare without harboring a head full of dirty thoughts.

“Sure, lunch sounds great. Why don’t we meet in Bend and we can choose a theme and then go to the stationers to select the invitations.” Needing to keep in control of this situation, she made it sound like a statement, not a question. If they met in Bend, it would also be less likely that they’d be seen together by someone who knew them.

“I’ll swing by and pick you up on my way.”

“No.” That would make it more like a date—not that Quinn McKinnel did dating, but she needed to protect her own emotions. And being squished against Quinn on the back of his motorcycle would be like throwing her emotions to the piranhas. This was purely a business deal. “I’ll probably do some shopping before or after.” She named a lesser-known café in Bend and a time.

For a moment Quinn looked as if he might argue about not picking her up, but in the end he conceded. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pushed himself off the coffee table and towered above her. Lord, he was tall—all the McKinnels were tall and good-looking, but if they were giving out awards, he’d win.

She put down her milk shake and went to stand.

“No, don’t get up.” He put out a hand to stop her. “I’ll see myself out. You get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Too tired to fight, Bailey let Quinn go and thankfully fatigue consumed her so that she fell asleep quickly and didn’t have time to worry or think about Quinn, the baby or what she’d just agreed to do.

* * *

“Well, hello there.” Callum looked up from behind the tasting bar as Quinn strolled toward him. He had the smug smile on his face—the smile that had been permanently in place since he’d shacked up with Chelsea—and Quinn guessed that one word about the baby would wipe it off. He’d have to tell his brother eventually, but announcing he’d gotten Bailey pregnant was probably not the smartest news to divulge when she hadn’t even told him yet.

Especially as he was still coming to terms with it himself.

Usually, he’d still be in bed at this time on a Saturday morning, but he hadn’t been able to sleep, his head too full with thoughts of Bailey, thoughts of a baby and thoughts of whether or not he really had it in him to be the type of dad he wanted to be.

“We don’t usually see you round here on the weekend,” Callum said as he rubbed at a smudge on the bar with the cuff of his shirt.

Since the warehouse shut down on the weekends, Quinn got Saturdays and Sundays off, whereas Callum and his other siblings who worked at the distillery—Sophie and Blair—worked pretty much 24/7. But that was their choice; he wasn’t going to be made to feel guilty about his. Their dad had been a workaholic (among other things) and in no way did Quinn want to emulate him. Ever since he was sixteen and walked in on his dad fucking a woman who wasn’t his mom, Quinn had vowed to never be like his father. But, in sleeping with Bailey, who hadn’t been available at the time, he’d been just like him.

And now they both needed to face the consequences.

“Is Sophie around?” he asked, ignoring his older brother’s observation.

“She’s grabbing coffees,” Callum said, jerking his thumb down the corridor in the direction of their small staff kitchen.

Before Quinn could say anything more, their sister appeared carrying two steaming mugs. Although she looked surprised to see him, unlike Callum she didn’t verbalize this surprise.

“Hey.” She handed Callum his coffee and then stretched up on tippy-toes and kissed Quinn on the cheek. “How are you today, brother mine?”

He forced a smile. “I’m surviving. And you?”

“Much the same. What brings you in here?” she asked, not sounding accusatory in the slightest.

“I wanted to let you guys know I’m organizing a surprise party for Mom’s sixtieth.”

“Oh, that’s a wonderful idea.” The smile on Sophie’s face showed her approval.

Callum raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t think to run this by the rest of us first?”

“I’m telling you now,” Quinn said, knowing his brother was only annoyed because he hadn’t been the one to think up the brilliant idea. “I’m also telling you that I’ve commissioned Bailey Sawyer to plan it for me.”

Sophie blinked at this news and Callum’s eyes looked positively dark.

Before either of them could say anything, Quinn spoke again. “You know she’s good and we agreed to throw some of our new event business her way. I thought this was as good a place as any to start. I’m meeting her for lunch later today, so let me know if you have any special requests for the party and I’ll pass them on.”

At that moment the door opened and their first customers waltzed in, bringing a gush of cool winter air with them. Their eyes lit up at the sight of the log fire crackling in the middle of one wall, and Sophie went over to greet them.

“Welcome to McKinnel’s Distillery,” she said in her eternally friendly tone. “Cool day out there. Warm yourselves by the fire and allow me to fetch you a taste of our finest bourbon to heat your insides.”

“What game are you playing at, Quinn?” Callum asked, his voice low as Sophie wooed the gray-haired couple.

Truth was, Quinn didn’t know what game he was playing at—he was making it up as he went along. Last night, when he’d stormed over to Bailey’s place, the last thing he’d expected was to ask her help to throw a party, but then she’d looked so tired and vulnerable, and something inside him had shifted. A party for his mom had been the first excuse that came into his head when she’d asked why he was there.

He held up his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to do something special for Mom.”

Callum’s expression said he didn’t buy this excuse for one second. Well, Quinn didn’t care—as long as Bailey did. He needed to spend as much time as possible with her. He needed to win her trust and respect so that she would feel comfortable inviting him into her life—and their baby’s.