Tommy’s Baby

  Tommy’s Baby

  Annie J. Rose

  Copyright © 2021 by Annie J. Rose

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.The following story contains mature themes, strong language and sexual situations. It is intended for mature readers only.

  All characters are 18+ years of age and all sexual acts are consensual.

  Contents

  Description

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Billy’s Baby (Preview)

  Also by Annie J. Rose

  About the Author

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  Description

  Tommy O’Shea. The love of my life. The one that got away.

  Correction, the one I let get away.

  Now, a decade later, it’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.

  Even bigger than the one that’s got me on the run for my life.

  I need to get out of town, change my name, start over. But where?

  Then a picture in a magazine draws me in.

  It’s him. My Tommy. He’s living and thriving in paradise.

  What if he still hates me? Or worse – what if he’s forgotten me?

  As sick as the thought makes me, I know I have to go.

  My next steps sound like the plot of a bad movie.

  I check into a seedy motel, I get a job at his pub, I try to pretend like we can be just friends.

  Have I gone crazy in the middle of all my madness?

  We find some semblance of happiness together once again,

  But I know it can’t last. Not when a man shows up looking for me.

  I won’t put Tommy in danger. I’d rather break his heart all over again.

  But when I try to run again, everything goes wrong, and Tommy is the only one who can save me.

  Will he find me in time, or have we said our final goodbye?

  Tommy’s Baby is a full-length secret baby romance filled with sparks, anticipation, and a torrent of naughty vacation nights on the tropical paradise of St. Martin. With a lovely HEA that is guaranteed to sweep you away, read this standalone novel from the SEAL Daddies series, which can be read in any order you desire.

  Chapter 1

  Tommy

  We had a big crowd at the pub, with the line snaking out the door. It was a forty-five-minute wait for a table when I sent the servers out with another tray of shot glass sized samples of my signature drinks: The St. Martin Sizzler with its kick of sriracha and the Paradise Punch which was sweet and tropical as anything at a kids’ birthday party but could knock you on your ass. I trailed after them with small bites—a single tortilla chip topped with our loaded nacho sauce, one firebomb shrimp on a toothpick with a dollop of wasabi on top, a good old potato skin topped with cheese and scallions. I worked my way down the line, telling corny Irish jokes and dropping a naughty limerick here and there, playing up the theme of the pub and promising a good time at the Irish jig lesson later. I kept their spirits up and made sure they sampled the best of the appetizers and drinks. It kept them mellow and having fun.

  For a while there it was five deep at the bar, but I finally got Connor to take over so I could go into the crowd. It was almost time for dancing. But first I had a wild group to take care of. I swaggered over to the table of beautiful women and leaned on the back of the booth.

  “Ladies, either you need to settle down, or I’ll be forced to cut off your alcohol for the evening,” I said with my most charming smile.

  “Put a sock in it, baby brother,” Karin hollered, “and get me another St. Martin Sizzler.”

  “Yeah, don’t be a party pooper. You’re supposed to be the fun O’Shea,” Elise added.

  “No mentioning poop! That was the deal,” Brandi chimed in.

  “I didn’t say poop. I said party pooper. God, maybe you need to cut her off, she’s getting bitchy,” Elise laughed. They all hooted and made a show of placing bets on who would win in a Brandi vs. Elise Smackdown.

  Morgan put twenty on Elise. Karin said she’d known Elise too long to bet on her, she would back down at the last minute. While they squabbled, I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t crap on our good time,” Karin said, “Your nephew Lucas has been up the last four nights trying to cut a goddamn tooth and I’m gonna kick somebody in the nuts if I don’t get a refill soon.”

  “Now I know why Mickey loves you,” I teased. “It’s your elegance. A true lady.”

  “A true lady who’s gonna put a Birkenstock to your scrotum if she doesn’t get another St. Martin Sizzler pronto,” she laughed.

  They raised their glasses and toasted to Karin who shot me a look because her glass was empty. I chuckled and gestured to a server to bring the girls another round. I was the youngest of five Irish-American brothers hailing from Chicago—all of us retired Navy SEALS who came to the island of St. Martin for the good life. So I’d spent all my life surrounded by men. Until Brandi came into my oldest brother Connor’s life and turned the gruffest, crankiest man alive into a lovesick puppy. Well, okay, not a puppy. More like a lovesick grizzly bear, fierce and protective and taking no shit, but doting on Brandi and their daughter Lilly.

  Then along came Elise who married Brendan, my second oldest brother, and her best friend Karin fell for Mickey, our soft-hearted middle brother who was an expert medic in the Navy and now ran the surf business in our growing entertainment empire on the island. Billy met Morgan, a travel writer, last year and that left me as the lone single O’Shea brother. I liked to have a good time, and I didn’t mind being the doting bachelor uncle.

  Except once in a while something happened like glancing over at the table full of my brothers’ wives or seeing their babies playing out in the courtyard of the old resort where we lived while we were redoing it, that I felt an ache in my chest. If my mother knew about it, which she wouldn’t, she’d say it was my biological clock. That I spent plenty of time sowing wild oats and it was time to settle down. But she’d be wrong. I wasn’t not feeling my age or any urge to have a Tommy Jr. anytime soon. It was just the pressure of envy on my chest, the fact that I could see how happy my brothers were, how complete their relationships made them and how they had become the best version of themselves by finding love and starting a family. That wasn’t my path, and I was okay with it most of the time.

  I couldn’t avoid the jealousy always, bu
t it rode in my gut then. Lonely and envious as hell.

  For a split second, I shut my eyes and I wondered if Liza would like these women. I could see her there, clinking her glass with Karin’s and demanding fried pickles even though they’re not on the official menu. Her too-loud laugh and her irreverent sense of humor would fit right in. But that was a lifetime ago, and I hardly ever thought of her anymore. It was just the sight of the O’Shea wives together and having fun that made me think of her, of the only woman in my entire life who I’d wanted to settle down with. Liza Jo Kelly. The one that got away.

  My oldest brother Connor came up and snapped me with the bar mop towel he carried over his shoulder.

  “You keep looking at our wives like that and it’s gonna be time for a good old-fashioned O’Shea ass beating, baby brother,” Connor said. “We could use some help at the bar after you’re done charming the girls.”

  I snapped out of it, rolled my eyes at him, and clapped my hands for the crowd’s attention.

  “Tonight, you’re every one of you an honorary Irishman—the ladies too—and the way the Irish express their joy is through dancing.”

  I gave them my grin that dared them to be brave enough to try, to stave off the specter of future regret and let their hair down.

  I started clapping the beat before I even queued up the music. I got the patrons clapping along with me. My sisters-in-law were the first to join in. They had all done the jig dozens of times—some of them like Elise still did it really badly but with plenty of fun energy—and it was good to have them here to encourage the crowd. Karin, clearly feeling the effects of her drink and acting giggly and relaxed, started trying to coax a table of girls to get up and join in. I complimented the frat boys on their Guinness order—showed sophistication and true Irish spirit, or so I said, and one by one they stood up to try the jig.

  I had seventy or eighty people on their feet, clapping to the folk music before I stood in the middle of the ring of tables and broke down the simple jig step by step for them.

  I started a number from the old Riverdance production that I’d seen as a kid and showed off my step dancing. Soon I had twenty or so patrons back on their feet, gamely stomping along while others videoed with their phones or clapped along. At the end of the song, I wiped sweat from my eyes, took a bow and told them all to be sure and tag O’Shea’s Pub in their social media posts of the evening. After the strenuous and sweaty dancing, drink orders poured in. I manned the bar alongside Connor.

  “You like hot-dogging for those crowds like nothing I’ve ever seen. Guess you missed the modesty gene in our family.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was anyone humble in the O’Shea clan. Lot of egos and big mouths from where I’m standing,” I said.

  “This from the man who was checking out my wife.”

  “I was not checking out your wife.”

  “Okay, you were checking out all our wives. Were you trying to pick a favorite?”

  “You all did well for yourselves. I approve of your choices.”

  “Looking to make a choice for yourself?”

  “I have made a choice for myself. Bartending, nightly jigs, and the company of any woman I choose for the night.”

  “Trust me, Tom. You’re better off not settling for one night.”

  “Who says I’m settling?” I asked.

  “I did. I say you’re selling yourself short, closed off from anything real. You act like it’s all fun and games but—"

  “I swear to God if you say I’m not getting any younger I’m checking to make sure you’re not Mom wearing a disguise and pretending to be my brother,” I said.

  “Whatever, bro,” he said, annoyed with my unwillingness to listen.

  “Not everybody’s cut out for marriage, you know,” I said. “I like my life the way it is. I don’t need to start breeding tiny O’Sheas to prove I’ve succeeded.”

  “We’ll breed plenty of them without you,” he said. “We’re off to a good start at any rate.”

  “I’ll happily spoil them all. But I don’t plan to have this conversation again with any of you. I don’t have to justify my choices just because they’re different from yours,” I said.

  “I’m not sure when I’ve seen you this serious,” he said, one eyebrow up. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “Are you trying to get me to discuss my feelings?” I asked. “Ma? Is that you?”

  He flipped me off and went to refill some beers. I turned to an older couple at the bar and offered them an appetizer sample.

  “Do you have any of the sriracha drink?” the woman asked, a mischievous look on her face.

  “My wife wants to end up in the ER tonight apparently,” her husband said, shaking his head.

  “I told you I wanted to spice things up on this trip,” the woman joked.

  “I didn’t realize you meant it literally,” he laughed.

  I took his drink order and then went to mix her up a spicy drink. I even lit a sparkler and set it on top. She clapped her hands when she saw it. I saw the flash fire on his phone, and I turned to wink at him.

  “Eddie, did you just take a picture?” She asked, mock exasperated.

  “You can’t blame me for wanting a few pictures of my beautiful wife, can you?” he asked, working his charm.

  Her cheeks turned pink. She smiled, looking pleased, and posed for him, a dazzling smile crinkling her eyes and showing even white teeth. He snapped another picture and took a drink of his beer—draft, not even a Guinness, the poor unadventurous sot. I grinned and walked away, leaving them to flirt. That was one thing I loved about tending bar. The connections I can make with people so quickly, the fact that I was a guest star in their lives. I could make a difference in minutes and even though I never saw them again, I knew I was a force for good.

  Connor would say it was because I didn’t like commitment. He wouldn’t be wrong.

  Chapter 2

  Liza

  I held the magazine with Tommy’s picture in it like it was a lucky charm. There had been a feature on the island of St. Martin. I’d found it while I waited at the dentist’s office. Flipped it open, all unsuspecting, and been faced with a black and white photo, a two-page spread, of Tommy standing shoulder to shoulder with four other men, all wearing dark t-shirts emblazoned with the logo for O’Shea’s Pub. His brothers and he had all been Navy SEALS, had all moved to the island afterward and started businesses. There he was, just like I remembered from more than a decade ago. The last time I saw him, he’d been just as handsome, not quite as heavily muscled. He definitely hadn’t had those tattoo sleeves that made him look dangerous, edgier than the sweet boyfriend I had lost. I couldn’t take my eyes off that picture, couldn’t stop thinking of him.

  That article had been my lifeline. I’d bought my own copy of the magazine. I’d even brought it with me on the plane. A reminder of going back to where I’d started in a way. What led me to the place I was going to hide until I figured out how to untangle the mess I’d made of my life. I probably wasn’t even going to see him. It just made me feel better to be where he was. Same island, same town. The fact of his mere existence comforted me. It made no sense, but what had I done in the meantime that made any sense at all anyway?

  Tommy O’Shea. My first kiss, my first everything. He was living the good life on a Caribbean island. He was probably married with four kids. Married to some gorgeous woman who wasn’t stupid enough to let him go when a long-distance relationship seemed hard like I had. It still made my stomach cramp to think about it. About Tommy having a wife who wasn’t me, having kids with someone else. There was no reason to feel so territorial, not anymore. I was in my thirties now. Not the dumb kid who’d let him go, and not the girl who had any claim on him at all. Not after so long.

  I couldn’t shake the idea of Tommy holding a kid on his hip, pointing out a boat in the distance, that grin on his face, the one that always made me melt. I waved down a taxi and gave the driver the name of my cheap motel. I’d only stashed aw
ay enough money to get me here, to buy me a couple weeks in a cut-rate room to figure out how to run for my life more efficiently. And I’d chosen to spend that money and those weeks as close to Tommy O’Shea as I could get. That probably said something about how desperate I was. My phone rang and I jumped. I saw Sam’s number and sighed with relief.

  “Samantha, what’s up?” I answered.

  “Are you on the ground?” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  I was grateful for her call, for the sound of her voice that seemed to bring me back down to earth and out of my panic spiral.

  “You got this. Just get some sun, take a deep breath, you’ll figure it out. You know I’ll help any way I can.”

  “You have no idea how much I wish you were here,” I said.

  “You can do this on your own. You’ve always been independent. You don’t need me to hold your hand,” she said reassuringly.

  “True, but it would be nice if I had someone to hold my hand once in a while.”

  “Stop beating yourself up. You didn’t know what you were getting yourself into, okay? There wasn’t like a sign that said, ‘this guy is dangerous’.”

  “I should have known better or waited a few years so I could prove myself to a real bank instead of, you know, running for my life.”