Behaving Badly in Vegas (Vegas Love #3)

2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Hunter

I was not a good man. I was born irredeemably bad. Unlovable. Even my own mother didn’t want me.

She dropped me on my father’s doorstep when I was only three. I didn’t remember much about my mom, but I did remember running after her green car, chasing the taillights until I reached the bottom of the driveway. A strange man scooped me up as I screamed and flailed, carrying me back to a house I didn’t know. A family that wasn’t mine.

I never saw her again.

That memory hadn’t surfaced in years, but the pink bundle sitting outside my apartment door brought it back like it happened yesterday. Almost thirty years in the past. I should have been over it, but some wounds were so deep they never fully healed. They scabbed, and all it took was an unintentional scrape for them to bleed all over again.

I didn’t particularly like kids. They were noisy, dirty, and complete libido killers. I had no desire to be around them .

“Who the fuck are you?” I whispered as I reached for the envelope pinned to the fuzzy blanket covered in pink kittens. Running my fingers over the envelope, my stomach turned as the baby kicked her chubby legs and smiled up at me with eyes as cerulean blue as the ocean. Eyes that matched mine.

Not a good sign.

For a minute, I considered toeing the carrier in front of old Mrs. Hadley’s door and shredding the unopened envelope. I could pretend I never saw it and walk away. That would be the easy thing to do, but not the right thing.

I’d never been big on doing the right thing. In fact, I went out of my way to do all the wrong things. It was expected. I was never going to fit into the perfect mold the Dorseys tried to shove me into. I wasn’t one of them. Not really.

I was more of an annoying fire ant that showed up to destroy their perfect picnic.

Luckily for them, I’d extracted myself from their lives. We’d barely talked in well over a year. My job at the bank sucked, but I made it work. Admittedly, the stunt I pulled at Mystique was low, but I never expected my father to fire me. I should have known that even when my brother… correction, half brother… broke company policy, my father would take his side. We were practically Vegas royalty—Trent was the heir, and I was the surprise spare no one counted on.

Tossing the diaper bag over my shoulder, I picked up the carrier, took it inside my apartment, and set it on the coffee table. I dropped onto the couch and stared at the unexpected visitor. Having a baby in my apartment was a first.

There was no way this could be reality. It had to be some crazy dream my sick mind conjured from deep in my subconscious.

Abandonment issues.

That’s what my therapist called it .

It was his explanation for me banging every available female in Vegas over the last ten years.

I honestly didn’t see how the two were related.

I was a horny fucker. The explanation didn’t get any simpler than that and now it caught up with me in the form of the present left at my door.

Running a hand over my jaw, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my legs and stared at the tiny person on my coffee table. “Who the fuck is your mom? And why did she bring you here?”

Her eyes drifted closed, and her little lips sucked at the pacifier shoved in her mouth.

“You were the last thing I expected today,” I whispered.

I turned the envelope over and over in my hands. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a plain white envelope with my name scrawled across the front in loopy handwriting. Blowing out a breath, I ran my finger under the flap and opened it. Stuffed inside were two sheets of paper. The first was a birth certificate.

Name: Carina Ashton Dorsey

I cringed. She’d given the kid my last name. According to the paperwork in my hand, baby Carina was almost six months old.

Mother’s Name: Jennifer Ann Johnson

Didn’t ring a bell. Not a single one. That shouldn’t have been a surprise. It’s not like I exchanged contact info with my flings. It was called a fling for a reason. Names never seemed important, except that, at this moment, they were very fucking important.

Father’s Name: Hunter Dorsey

No middle name, because why the fuck would she know my middle name when I didn’t even know her first? I hadn’t signed any paperwork, but my name was there anyway.

Fuck!

Just because this piece of paper pronounced the baby was mine didn’t make it true. I wrapped it up religiously. Didn’t want a mistake like me to happen .

But those blue eyes… they were another piece of evidence that pointed in my direction.

I unfolded the second piece of paper, a note written in the same loopy handwriting as the envelope.

Hunter~

You may not remember me, but I remember you quite well. You drank yourself stupid at The Sapphire Club where I worked, then offered me ten thousand dollars for a private night in the Jewel Room. It was only supposed to be a bit of fun and the money was too good to turn down. Little did I know that encounter would change my life.

I thought I’d be a good mom, but it turned out I wasn’t built for motherhood. I’m entrusting you with Carina’s well-being, as I’m sure the life you can provide for her will far surpass the life I could provide.

That alone told me Jennifer Johnson didn’t know me at all. I had money. Didn’t mean I knew shit about raising a kid. She could have hit me up for child support instead of dropping a baby on my doorstep.

Carina likes being snuggled during her feedings. Yada, yada, yada.

She’s a good girl and shouldn’t have to pay for our mistakes. Give her the life she deserves.

Our mistakes? How could I be part of an our when I didn’t even know who this woman was? I’d fucked up a lot in my life, but this took the cake. No way was I qualified to be a dad.

I peeked into the diaper bag. There was a can of formula, diapers, and a bunch of other baby stuff I didn’t know what to do with. I really should have pushed the carrier in front of Mrs. Hadley’s door. She would have known what to do. A sinking feeling took up residence in my chest and stomach, making it hard to breathe. I was in way over my head.

Swallowing down my pride, I called the only person who could help. If anybody knew how to raise a bastard, it was my father.