Mister Baby Daddy (Bad Boys In Love #3) - Cassie-Ann L. Miller Page 0,1

up.

Ha—if they only knew. I won’t even admit how long it’s been since I’ve had sex. Though, no one would ever guess it.

And as for dates? I haven’t been on a date in forever. Sure, I get asked for my number while slinging drinks or when I'm in line at the local coffee shop. Hell, I get groped by some creepy oldtimer every time I visit the nursing home with Walker.

But a real date? One with dinner, drinks, and a hot, hungry male body for dessert? Those don’t seem to happen for me.

Attracting a cute guy has never been my problem. But, unfortunately, there’s only one man my body yearns for, and he’s never looked at me ‘that way'. It doesn’t matter how much makeup I wear. Or how much time I spend on my hair or outfit. I’ve effectively been friend-zoned by the man of my dreams since the first grade.

I wish I didn’t love a guy who’s unattainable.

You can't go on like this, girl. It’s time to move on with your life...

I shut down the self-pity and snap back into vixen mode because Momoa is on the move. With the grace of a prowling wildcat, he's headed in my direction.

This is it, I shriek internally. This is it. I might be doing a pretty good job of keeping myself together on the outside—but shit—I'm nervous.

I sit a little straighter. Lick my lips. Adjust my cleavage inside my itty-bitty faux-leather mini dress.

“Get it, girl.” The barmaid grins slyly and sets my drink in front of me. She ambles off just as the sexy hunk of man lowers onto the stool next to me.

On instinct, my fingers clench on my glass. I take a fortifying gulp of my Manhattan.

The vapors from the cheap whiskey fry off my nose hairs. I throw a glare at the ditzy bartender...I know I said to be generous with the liquor but—oh my god—what the hell did she put in here? Rubbing alcohol and gasoline? I can usually drink most guys under the table. But this is extreme.

Vixen mode, Penny. Vixen mode.

I forcefully suppress my cough. Because it’s downright impossible to look sexy when you're coughing up a lung.

The man's dark, mysterious eyes drink in my every move. He sticks out a big hand. "Connor." He’s all teeth and sexy predator when he grins.

I arch a brow and pause just long enough to make him sweat. "Penny," I say when I finally take his hand.

He brings his stool closer. His wolfish grin expands. “I just had to come over here and introduce myself 'cause I've got the distinct impression that you've been objectifying me all night."

Wow, cocky much?

Arrogance is usually a major turn-off for me. But I remind myself that I need a human touch. A male touch. I've been taking things into my own hands for far too long. I swear—when I reached into my drawer for my vibrator last night, the thing groaned with annoyance and rolled its eyes at me. You again...

I really don’t want to do the self-loving thing tonight. Plus, I’m all out of AA batteries, and since it’s past ten o’clock in Crescent Harbor, all stores of the battery-buying variety are closed for the night. And if I show up on any of my friends’ doorsteps asking for batteries in this dress, at this time of night, they’ll know exactly what I’m up to.

My eyes settle on Connor's face. I smile. He’s not Walker but for tonight, he'll more than do. You know what they say—if you can't be with the one you love, fuck the Jason Momoa look-alike from across the bar…or something like that. In any case, I just need to shut off my inner dialogue and mindlessly play along.

I trace a fingernail along the rim of my tumbler. I bat my mascara'd-up lashes. “Maybe I am objectifying you. Maybe I need an object for all this affection I’m feeling tonight.” I wink.

I'm no good at winking—especially when I'm half-drunk—so I probably just look twitchy.

If Connor notices my horrible, cheesy flirting, he’s obviously willing to overlook it. He gets a couple bonus points for that.

He laughs. “Well, I’m your object tonight, sweetheart. All you've gotta do is say the word.”

I let my eyes freely roam his body, silently searching for one flaw, one physical fault that I can hitch onto. Unfortunately, I can't find one.

This is what I always do. I see a cute guy from a distance and I hype myself up about going home with