It’d save me a whole lot of money and time if we just bailed on this doctor appointment and took care of business right here on his worn out paisley sheets.
What the hell is wrong with me? Once again, I force myself to snap out of my horny-headed thoughts, silently blaming the hormone treatments for getting me all keyed up.
Seriously, Walker Kingston is my best friend. My donor. And now, my new business client. I need to keep those areas properly compartmentalized and keep my sexual fantasies at home, where they belong. Doesn’t matter that I’ve been hot for the man my whole life.
My gaze snaps back to his. I find him watching me closely. God, I'm going to screw this up.
He eyeballs me. “I haven’t forgotten about the appointment. Or the procedure.” His voice is hoarse. Lower than it was just moments ago.
I’m struggling not to drown in those addictive eyes. “Thank you—again—for helping me with this.”
He gives me a single nod and a barely visible smile. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Our eyes hold for a second past appropriate, a second past platonic, a second past 'just friends'.
Walker clears his throat. "I should—I should get back to the farm."
Gaze locked on him, I swallow hard and nod.
He backs out of the room, those jeans looking a tad more snug at the crotch. He leaves me alone in his bed.
15
Penny
I’m sitting in a cold, bright conference room at Kingston Realty Holdings, the hub of the Kingston family business. Walker is sitting beside me, fidgeting with the collar of his crisp, white button down shirt. I'm nervous, myself, and my friend's jitters aren't making this any easier.
This is far more formal than what I was expecting when Walker told me a few weeks ago that he'd have some paperwork drawn up. My farmer buddy isn't one for formalities. I was secretly assuming that we’d be signing paper napkins here.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Across from us, there's this stern-looking lawyer dude, carefully reviewing a thick sheaf of paperwork for about the tenth time.
Walker's still tugging on his collar. I know he’s not used to dressing up. I’m sure he hates the pressed slacks and dress shirt. I lean close to him and whisper. "How come you felt the need to dress up?" This is his family’s business. He could have shown up in his usual flannel and jeans without any consequences.
He makes eye contact and whispers back. "This is important to you, Princess. I wanted to take it seriously."
And I goddamned melt. More and more, I’m seeing all of these unbelievably amazing qualities I hope my kid will inherit. I’m not just talking about what he looks like on the outside. The man works hard, he’d die for his family, he loves animals, he cares about the environment. He’s as protective as he is nurturing.
Plus, there’s the added bonus that he’s strong and sexy and fine as hell.
That’s a unique combination to find. And it’s everything I could possibly want for my offspring.
Frank turns the last page and looks up. “As you know, I'm Cannon's lawyer and normally, I handle most of his business remotely from my office in New York, but he emphasized that this means a lot to both of you. So, I'm here to make sure you understand what you’re getting yourselves into. Both legally and financially.”
The old man regards me warily. And that’s when it hits me. This lawyer is here to protect the Kingston assets—and their asses. Not mine.
For a half-second, I wonder if I should have had someone here representing me. But that’s just silly. This is Walker. My best friend. He’d never do anything to take advantage of me. In any situation.
He’s doing me a huge favor so I want him to be protected in this.
Walker and I glance at each other as Frank hands us each a folder. I flip mine open and am confronted by sheets filled with legal jargon.
The man patiently walks us through each page and Walker's fidgeting only increases. Good lord. His stress is stressing me out. Even without him saying a word, I can tell his anxiety is eating at him. I know all this was his idea but, silently, I wonder if I'm asking too much of my friend. This sperm donation thing is a big deal. Maybe I'm being selfish by so willingly jumping on his offer.
I catch a bead of sweat forming at his temple, as his nervousness builds. He tugs at the collar of his crisp, white button down shirt. Then, he does it again. After he does it for the third time, I nudge his foot with mine under the table.
He catches my eye with a grim smile, forcing his hands back to the table. Then he picks up a nearby pen and clicks it open. Then he clicks it shut. Click. Click. Click.
He’s clearly losing his shit.
I take a deep breath and try to focus on everything Frank is reading to us. This contract sure is thorough.
The lawyer is reviewing a long passage explaining that there is no financial or legal responsibility on Walker regarding the needs and welfare of the child. That's when Walker finally cracks.
“Wait," my friend snaps. "Wait, wait, wait. What if I do want to help her?” Frowning, he looks at me, then at the lawyer. He picks up the page we’re reading from. “Let’s take this whole clause out.”
Frank eyeballs him with caution. “I would have to advise against that, Mr. Kingston.”
Walker shakes his head adamantly, and I see that vein starting to pop near his forehead. “No. Penny is a friend. My best friend. Not someone who’s going to rake me over!”
I place my hand on his arm, giving him a little comforting squeeze. I hear him take a breath. “No,” I address Frank. “Leave the clause in, please.” The lawyer seems slightly relieved by my objection. I meet my friend’s eyes. “It’s fine, Walker. Really. This is for your protection.
