Free Still Here: A Secret Baby Romance by Kaylee Song, Laura Belle Peters Page A

talking to one of them.
    I walked up to the two of them while the lady and her daughter scurried off after him.
    “Thank you, he’s been known to cause a scene now and again.” Her eyes softened and I saw how scared she really was. I couldn’t blame her. the man made me scared.
    But Wyatt had protected us.
    “It’s not a problem. But you should really look in on them, I’m scared for that little girl,” Wyatt said. I caught the tail-end of the conversation.
    “Are you okay?” I asked as soon as I found my way to him. “Did he hit you?”
    He clearly had, right smack in the eye, too. I guess even a drunk asshole could get a good shot in once in a while.
    “I’m fine. Is the kid safe?” he asked. I noticed that he didn’t answer my question.
    “She will be,” the police offer said as he walked away.
    It was not what I was expecting when it came to outings, but it had excitement, at least.
    I grabbed his chin and turned his face, looking at what I was certain was going to be a shiner. Damn.
    “Did you get a good one in?” I asked.
    “Got him to back up, the cops broke it up, pulled him away.” He looked up at me through smoldering eyes, my hand still on his chin.
    Why was my hand still on his chin?
    A kiss. It would be so easy to just grant him one little kiss. Right there. He’d been brave, he deserved it, after all, and heaven knew I wanted to taste him just one more time
    You’ll get burned. Back away.
    I pulled back, but it was too late. I’d lingered too long. My thoughts were all but revealed.
    “I-“ I didn’t know how to finish that sentence, I was too busy searching in his eyes, hoping for a reason to back away.
    Convincing myself it wasn’t a good idea.
    “Do you want to try and win me a teddy bear?” I asked, finally.
    I’d broken the spell. A sigh of relief escaped my lips, or was it regret? I wasn’t sure.
    “Sure,” he said as resignation set into his eyes.
    It was a close one.

Chapter Six
    " T he yellow roses with just a hint of peach are gorgeous, what do you think?" she asked as we stared at the flower shop.
    “What?” I said. I was lost in a daydream. Thinking about my last date with Wyatt.
    And about that shirt he wrapped around me. I still had it in my car. And I hadn’t returned it.
    If I was honest I’d admit that I had no intention of giving it back.
    “Rose! You said you would come here with me and help. The roses?” she pointed to them.
    She was finally choosing the colors for her wedding, and I got to the be the one who came along with her.
    Joy.
    "Don't yellow roses mean 'I'm sorry?'" I asked. I shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t have even thought to ask.
    If only I had known how to tell the future.
    It was an innocent question, but the look on her face sent me recoiling. She looked ready to spit fire.
    She took a deep breath, calmed herself then said, "completely yellow roses do, sure, but these are yellow with peach accents. They are gorgeous."
    "Oh, in that case, they are nice." I tried to muster up all the excitement I could fathom, but, as I was quickly learning, even good natured Jess became a little bit of a diva when it came to wedding preparations.
    "What has you so down? I thought your date with Wyatt went well." She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the flowers then moved on to the next booth.
    Billings’ wedding bazaar happened twice a year, once in the early spring and once in the middle of summer. She was planning for a fall wedding, but she'd wanted an early look at what she could purchase.
    Besides, she told me, most women buy their accents a year or so before the wedding.
    It just seemed like a big farce to me. A waste of money and resources. My father always said that weddings were just money pits.
    My mom would touch his arm and gently remind him that their wedding was beautiful.
    And he'd respond that it was because they'd done it on his father's farm. The barn made a rustic chapel as well as a fun dance hall.
    They were rustic