The Right Kind of Wrong: A Brother's Best Friend Romance by Fabiola Francisco (open ebook .TXT) 📗

“I know, Allyson. Don’t you think I’ve thought all this through? I can’t stop thinking about you. You’ve got me so twisted, I don’t even care to look at another woman if she’s not you. And now you’re carrying my child. It may be a life I never thought I’d have or want, but now that it’s hanging in front of me, I want to grab it and protect it.”

I don’t know what to say to that, so I just stare like an idiot, focusing on my breathing—in and out, in and out.

“And by the way,” he adds, “I’m staying until we find out the gender. I’ll have a bet to win, and I want to make sure I’m here to reap the rewards.” He begins walking.

Just like that, he leaves me standing in shock, staring at his back, questioning what the hell I’ve gotten myself into.

“Are you coming?” He looks over his shoulder and asks. My feet begin moving toward him, although my mind is filled with messy thoughts and questions. Can Camden be more than just the father of my child?

chapter 16

Allyson

True to his word, Camden has stayed in Madrid, working from his hotel room or a café while I’m at work during the day. It’s been five weird days since he arrived, and I’ve gotten used to seeing him day in and day out. But since he usually waits for me outside my apartment building in the evenings with some kind of treat to quench my cravings, I’m okay with him being here.

Okay with him being here, I scoff at myself as I stretch in bed. I’m definitely more than okay. Who am I kidding? After that kiss on Monday night, all I can think about is Camden. His possessiveness, protection, and care. He’s stepping up to the plate, and it scares me.

I get up from bed and race to the bathroom. I have to stop waiting until the very last minute to pee.

Once I’ve relieved myself, I drag my body to the kitchen and heat up the milk to make my decaf coffee, a gift from Camden, along with the kettle and a bunch of teas. He’s seriously become overprotective, and it’s sweet and annoying at the same time, but that could be a cause of my chaotic hormones.

As I take a sip of my steaming coffee, someone knocks on my door. With furrowed eyebrows, I walk to look through the peephole since I didn’t buzz anyone in. I open the door with pursed lips as I hold my mug to my chest.

“Good morning,” Camden says with a smile. “I brought breakfast. I’m starting to realize Spaniards don’t eat breakfast the same way we do in the US, although I did see a couple places advertising brunch.” He walks in as he talks on and on about going to brunch tomorrow.

“Camden,” I stop him.

“Yeah?” He turns around with lifted brows.

“I already have to drink decaf coffee; give me a sec to take a sip before you continue talking a mile a minute.”

He smiles, his one dimple making an appearance as he looks me up and down. “You look sexy.”

I bring my free arm up to cross over my chest, resting the one holding the mug over it.

“Uh-uh, don’t cover yourself now.” He takes the few steps toward me, closing the space between us, as his hand holds my chin. “You really do look amazing,” he whispers before his lips kiss the corner of my mouth. I hold my breath and wait, frozen by his bold move. Since Monday evening, Camden has been more upfront about what he wants, and he’s determined to prove himself.

“Thanks,” I choke out, which only causes his smile to widen.

“Come on, I brought croissants from that bakery you showed me the other day.” He grabs my arm and pulls me into the small kitchen, setting the bag on the tiny table.

“Did you bring anything else?” Curiosity gets the best of me, and I peel open the bag to peek inside while Camden grabs two plates.

When I look up at him, I notice he’s placing a glass of milk in the microwave. “You can have regular coffee,” I tell him.

“I’ll join you in the decaf world today,” he smirks and spoons the instant decaf into his steaming milk before taking a seat at the table with me. “And there is something else in there,” he winks.

A smile takes over my face, curious if it’s the puff pastry filled with whipped cream I got the other day. Before I can get to the sweet goodness, Camden steals the bag from my hands.

“You need to eat a real breakfast first.”

“Are you already preparing for your Dad role?” I tease, biting down my smile.

He leans forward with an arched eyebrow. “Let me take care of you,” his husky voice washes over me. My heart spikes, still not used to his gentle side, so I nod.

“Good. Do you have eggs?” Camden stands, opening my fridge before I can reply. “Get ready for The Steele Breakfast.”

“The Steele Breakfast?” My eyebrows pinch together as I snort in laughter.

Camden turns to look at me, the sleeves of his Henley tee scrunched up on his arms. “You laugh now, but when you try it, you’ll be begging me to make this every morning.”

I watch him crack eggs into a bowl while I drink my coffee, patiently waiting. I’m not complaining about the view; the muscles on his toned forearms flex with each movement. When my stomach growls, I stand and lean beside the small section of counter next to the stove and watch him scramble the eggs.

I smile when he looks over at me, confidence oozing out of him. Camden walks around my kitchen, grabbing ingredients he needs as he goes. The savory aroma wafts around my kitchen, and I inhale deeply, mouth watering.

“Do me a favor?” He lifts his eyebrows as he looks at me.

“Sure.” I nod and move away from the counter.

“Toast the croissants.”