Babymoon Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by Abby Knox

  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.

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is coincidental.

  Edited by Aquila Editing

  Cover Designer: Cover Girl Design

  Summary

  Island pilot Austin meets a lot of interesting people. But he's never met anyone quite like Sierra. When he learns this is her one final vacation before taking on the responsibilities of mommy-hood, he finds himself wishing for daddy-hood for the first time in his life. He's never considered settling down, but when he looks into her eyes, he can't imagine not starting a family.

  Sierra has wanted a baby her entire life, but life has not yet provided a partner to make that happen. In advance of taking matters into her own hands with the help of fertility doctors, she leaves town for one last wild adventure with her best friend. When the rugged island pilot hears about Sierra's plans, he makes her an outrageous offer. It's absolutely ridiculous to even consider such a thing ... or is it?

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  More by Abby Knox

  Chapter One

  Austin

  The two women approaching my aircraft look like best friends who just got away with the heist of the century.

  The tall one with long braided hair covers her mouth, laughing breathlessly at a story the shorter one is telling. The five-foot-two sun-kissed blonde wears a loose potato-sack of a dress that hides a small frame. “…so I told him, ‘I don’t know where she is. But if she’s not at the church on her wedding day, then that might be a clue she’s not going to participate in your sham of a wedding. Maybe by the time she re-emerges, your head will have re-emerged from your ass, Mr. Pierce.’

  The tall brunette shakes her head. “This story is never going to get old.”

  I re-check my flight manifest: Sierra Kennedy and Jax Pierce.

  The two of them raise their matching bride-and-groom tumblers, clinking them together in an impromptu toast. Curious.

  “To ancient history,” says the sun-kissed blonde.

  “To new beginnings!” exclaims the tall one.

  I’ve flown every type of visitor from island to island in this tiny fringe in the South Pacific. Gangsters, movie stars, politicians, and sketchy financiers flock to this remote stretch of paradise. The things I’ve overheard would fill a book. I could write it, but nobody would believe it. Or I could get myself killed for spilling secrets.

  The women in front of me introduce themselves, and I learn the tall one—presumably the subject of the runaway bride story—is Jax. The short blonde who piques my interest is Sierra. Of course, she is. She’s earthy, curvy, sun-kissed, and has the sweetest freckles I’ve ever seen dotting her nose.

  A stiff sea breeze blows the straw hat off the petite blonde, whose sheer dress whips upwards at the same time. For the briefest of seconds, I think I see undies. However, I soon realize I’m looking at a navy blue polka dotted string bikini bottoms. The strings hanging down accent a set of curvy hips, the kind of hips that trigger a whole lot of inappropriate thoughts. I know it’s unprofessional to let my mind wander while staring at a female passenger, but I can’t help it. The image is there before I can think to shut it down. And what I’m thinking about is how much I’d love to hold onto those sweet hips while she tells me the whole story of the runaway bride, starting from the beginning. I want to hear her say more, especially while I’m tugging away at those strings. Maybe I’d even let her finish the story before those bottoms fall to the floor.

  But that’s not going to happen. I’m not interested in getting involved with a resort guest. Those people don’t stick around for long. And me? I’m a long-haul guy. Not interested in flings. Not even with this charming little spitfire who’s triggering thoughts that make my cock twitch.

  Sierra yelps and starts to run after her hat, slightly stumbling in her tall espadrilles. But I’m faster. When I place the hat back on her head, and our eyes meet, I nod and give her a tight smile, trying to keep a hold on my emotions, hoping like hell she doesn’t see the caged animal that she’s awakened with that sweet smile. She blinks up at me, and I can see she’s someone special. Surely, someone back home loves her.

  But I can look.

  Sierra blushes, and her eyes dart down as she digs through her bag looking for something, then hands me an envelope of bills. “Before I forget,” she says, smiling shyly.

  I don’t know what she’s doing at first: I’m too caught up in her lips, curved up slightly. Her suntanned, freckled cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink as I stare down at her.

  I frown at the stack of bills in her hand and shake my head. “No tips, ma’am. I’m already paid as part of your all-inclusive trip package,” I explain.

  Her friend turns to her. “See? I told you that’s how it works.”

  “But surely,” Sierra begins to insist, shaking the envelope at me.

  “No, thank you,” I tell her, placing my hands over hers. The warmth that transfers from her hands to mine pushes at my resolve.

  The instant connection could burn out one of my aircraft engines by proximity. “I won’t take money from you. But I will need your phone number.”

  A pink blotch creeps across Sierra’s collarbones.

  “Uh…” She laughs, and I realize what I’ve just said could be taken the wrong way.

  Jax exclaims, “Oh! So you can let us know when the plane is ready to take us back to the main island two weeks from today. Obviously. The travel agent said something about how you set your own schedule.”

  Sierra’s eyes travel across my shoulders, and I shift my weight, steeling myself, willing my traitorous cock to settle down.

  “Exactly.” I keep my eyes locked on Jax, needing to avoid Sierra’s expectant gaze. Those curious eyes and parted lips on the little blonde are a trap.

  Sierra stuffs the bills back in her purse and uses her phone to drop her contact info to my phone in an exchange that dares me not to look at her face, her hair, the soft skin of her hands. I don’t want to stare. My mind is made up.

  The trouble is that every other part of my body is also made up, directly opposing my rational mind.

  Chapter Two

  Sierra

  It’s a good thing the pilot wears a headset and can’t hear a word that Jax and I are saying to each other. We sound like drunk idiots.

  Along with the slightly slurred speech thanks to the margaritas that the airport bartender was so kind to pour into our tumblers, the subject matter is not something I want to share with strangers.

  We’ve hashed and rehashed the topic of her narrow escape from an arranged marriage, and now I’ve no escape from what Jax wants to talk about. Unless I want to skydive out of this Cessna. I might just try it.

  When Jax asked me to join her on her would-be honeymoon to The Pearl Crescent islands, I suggested we leave a week early and spend some time in the city on Pearl Island b
efore hitting the resort on Little Loggerhead. After doing some research, I learned the big island’s city center has excellent shopping, a university, good hospitals, and a world-renowned fertility clinic. I decided I can do what I need to do here just as well as anywhere else. My family is not excited about my decision to have a baby on my own. So I might as well do it in paradise, away from their judging eyes.

  My parents don’t seem to realize that I’m almost 30 and that I’ve wanted a baby my entire life. As a child, there was nothing I wanted to play with more than baby dolls, toy strollers, and tiny cribs. Now that I’m an adult, I’m more of an adventurer than a homebody, but the idea of having a baby has never left me. When I close my eyes, I see me and a little girl or boy, holding hands, walking to the park. A suitable partner has never revealed himself to me, and that’s okay. I’ve got the time, resources, and the will to raise a baby on my own.

  “I can’t believe this is our last girls’ trip. Do you really have to go through with the insemination? I mean, a baby? It’s so…so…final!”

  Jax has a flair for the dramatic.

  I laugh at her. “My life isn’t going to be over just because I’m going to have a baby, you know.”

  She lolls her head back and wags it back and forth as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing.

  “Babe,” she counters. “Sierra…my best friend…a mom…I just…wow.”

  I smirk and sip from my tumbler. “Solid argument, but I’m going to do it.”

  “But why?”

  I love my Jax, but having a baby is not the end of the world.

  “Because,” I answer her, “I’ve always wanted a baby. I have always felt it in my soul. Somehow I’ve always known I was built for it. And, I’m turning thirty next week, and I always said that if I wasn’t married and pregnant by thirty, that I would go it on my own. And I want to have one big adventure with my best friend before I’m preggers.”

  A loud belch erupts from Jax’s throat, and the pilot glances at us over his shoulder. “Tossing your cookies in my plane is one of those things not covered in your all-inclusive package.”

  Jax points and laughs at our pilot’s comment. “You’re funny.” She turns to me and mouths, “and hot A.F.”

  My eyes roll so hard they might stay that way. “Jax. Oh my god.”

  Arching an eyebrow, she leans forward and places a hand on my knee. “Okay. Listen.” Her classic move when she’s tipsy is to remind a person to listen when they are, indeed, already listening. She’s so cute right now I could hug her. “I promise not to bug you anymore about your future relationship with a turkey baster if you promise that on this trip, you’ll at least consider getting knocked up by a romantic, dashing stranger.”

  She’s officially drunk now. And bonkers.

  I cluck at her. “In what universe does a stranger getting me pregnant make things less complicated?”

  Jax chokes on her margarita, and I take the tumbler out of her hands. She’s had enough until we land, I think. “It doesn’t! But it sure is more fun, and romantic, and adventurous. Not to mention you’ll have an amazing story to remember.”

  “If by adventurous, you mean a game of ‘Will I or Won’t I Contract Herpes on my All-Inclusive Island Vacation?’ Then, sure. What a romantic adventure.”

  “Better than a sterile fertility clinic involving rubber gloves and refrigerated Harvard sperm!”

  Now I’m choking. “The donor is a Johns Hopkins University professor, thank you very much,” I correct her.

  She glowers at me. “Whatever. Just promise me you’ll keep your options open.”

  I stare back at Jax and entertain the prospect of her not harassing me every five minutes to keep an open mind. So, I lie. “Of course I will. But think of it this way, whichever way I get pregnant, you get to be the cool aunt.”

  My best friend twirls her long, thick braid and purses her lips thoughtfully. “Mm. I’ve always thought of myself as the crazy aunt.”

  Nodding, I christen her Crazy Aunt Jax, and I hand her the tumbler so we can make a toast.

  “To Sierra’s Babymoon!”

  “To my Babymoon!”

  The plane banks left, and I see it. Little Loggerhead Island: An oblong landmass of dense jungle, hugging a dormant volcano on one end and the exclusive Cerulean Resort and Spa on the other end. Pristine white sand beaches circle the entirety of the island. The turquoise water is so clear that I can see the line of coral reefs from the shore for miles out to sea. Beyond the private island is a half-moon-shaped line of smaller islands and keys, as well as a sprinkling of landmasses that amount to little more than sandbars with a few rocks and dense trees.

  Jax gasps and points out the window to a small green strip of land to the south of Little Loggerhead. “There’s Temple Island. That’s where we’re doing donkey yoga in the morning. Accessible by kayak only,” Jax reports in her spokesperson's voice.

  “Oh, no, thank you very much. I’ll be sipping rum with my feet in the sand at that time.”

  Jax cocks her head. “It’s at nine a.m.”

  “Listen. Babymoon is for making bad choices one last time before I have to be responsible for another human. Yoga does not fit the mission of Babymoon.”

  “What about parasailing? And cliff diving? And the mountain bike sunset ride on Captain Pete’s Cove?”

  I tap my finger to my lip and go down the list. “Maybe. Possibly. And only if I’m being pulled on the bike behind one of those pedicab things.”

  “They don’t have those here.”

  The engine noise grows by several decibels on our descent, and the treetops are so close now I grip my seat cushion, fearing that we might crash into a mountain and I’ll either die in the wreckage or by alligator attack. Wait, do they have alligators here? Local flora and fauna are things I hadn’t bothered to look up.

  From this angle, I don't see the tiny airstrip just on the other side of the tree line. When it comes into view, I let out a breath.

  “In that case,” I say brightly, “I’ll be getting a spa treatment at sunset. Sorry, sunset bike tour.”

  “Every night?”

  “No. Other nights, I’ll be out living up to my end of our agreement. Scoping out a donor of hot island jizz rather than cold, clinical, professor jizz. Just like you suggested.” I give her a wink to let her know I’ll be doing no such thing—what a ridiculous idea.

  Jax covers her mouth while she cackles. “Of the two of us, you are the crazy aunt.”

  I smile and watch the back of our pilot’s head and pray to whatever god they worship in The Pearl Crescent islands that he hasn’t heard a word of what we’ve been saying.

  Chapter Three

  Austin

  “I thought you were on vacation.”

  Sam, the bartender, rightly wonders what I’m still doing here on Little Loggerhead Island.

  I gesture to the surf shop tee-shirt and Bermuda shorts I’m wearing. “Don’t I look like a tourist?”

  He chuckles. “Sure do. I figured you’d be long gone by now.”

  I shrug. “I was going to go to Vegas and see some buddies from my unit, but last time I did that, it was a lot of kids and babies and talk about school. If I go now, they’ll all be talking about college and shit. And then there’s me. No wife. No kids. Not much to talk about.”

  Sam pops open a second beer and takes my empty. “I can see that. Maybe it’s time to take the plunge yourself.”

  I smile ruefully and ignore that suggestion. “You know, I’m thinking of staying here and enjoying the islands off duty.”

  I’ve got two weeks of vacation saved up, and I could spend the money I’ve saved to go elsewhere and get away from the islands where I work every day. I could drink a beer anywhere in the world besides here on the pier, wearing out my usual barstool at the Mumbling Ahab with the boat captains and deckhands. I sip my beer and admire the sunset over the water, watching groups of guests and lovers stroll by hand in hand.

  That’s when I spot her—Si
erra and her friend Jax. I hear them before I see them. The familiar laughter and loud joking haven't diminished since they disembarked at the airstrip, where I handed them over to the resort shuttle driver.

  As happy as my untamable libido is to see Sierra, I’m not so thrilled to see her midriff top and extra-short shorts.

  When I see some of the yachties eyeballing Sierra’s ass, my attitude ratchets up from not-so-thrilled to severely annoyed. Those two drunk women are going to land themselves in some trouble.

  While I watch Sierra down shots at the bar with her friend, the yachties are trying to horn in on their slightly drunken girl talk.

  “Dude.” Sam’s been talking, and I’ve been rudely tuning him out. I swing back around. “Sorry, what?”

  He chuckles. “I was just saying you should think about a mail order bride if you’re going to stay here and work indefinitely. I know a guy.”

  “I don’t need a mail order bride, or a dating service for that matter. Hey Sam, do me a favor. Cut those two women off,” I say. “I’ve got a bad feeling about those two deckhands over there.”

  I watch as Sierra and Jax approach the bar and ask for two margaritas. Sam looks from me to them and says, “I’m sorry, ladies. I’m not allowed to keep serving once guests are visibly intoxicated. It’s a safety measure. I’m so sorry.”

  It’s a blatant lie, but it works. I watch the women slink off, only slightly disappointed. “Well, we’ve got donkey yoga tomorrow anyway,” Jax says teasingly.

  “Whatever,” responds Sierra, laughing.

  I watch as two yachties who’ve been eyeing the ladies get up and pay their tab, then follow Jax and Sierra about twenty paces behind them.