Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book 1) by Wanitta Praks Read Free Book Online Page A

leaving him to look after their baby.
    He missed his wife dearly, still holding on
to their cherished memories, but he really regretted having his son
at such a late age. But Clinton was the type of man to look towards
the future. He would not let his past gloom affect his judgment for
the future. That was why it was imperative his son look for a girl
now, to stop the cycle of conceiving a baby at an older age.
    “Dad, I can’t just go up to some random
girl, ask her to sleep with me, then marry her. It doesn’t work
that way with me.” Hunter interrupted his father’s train of
thought.
    “You’ve been doing that already. So just ask
the question once you’ve done with the sleeping bit.” Clinton
half-heartedly argued with his son’s statement.
    “Dad, I told you I can’t. I need to love the
girl. When my time comes, I’m sure I’ll find the right one for
me.”
    “But if you get the girl pregnant, wouldn’t
you have to marry her?” Clinton took in his son’s
suggestion, smiling at the thought. “Yes, that could be a very
strong possibility. Then you could marry the girl.”
    “Dad, I won’t get a girl pregnant. I
practice safe sex, so don’t dream about that,” he declared.
    “Well, how do you propose to go about
getting a family, then? I’m not getting any younger. I want to see
my son married.” Clinton was back to square one again.
    “I can’t answer that for you.” Hunter folded
his arm and relaxed into the chair next to his father, having had
enough of the massaging now, since his tactic of sweet action
didn’t work on his father. The man was just so adamant on finding
him the perfect girl.
    “You’re not making this old man happy.”
Clinton moaned like a child whose toy had been taken away.
    “Ah, come now, Dad. Stop acting like a kid.”
Hunter patted his father’s hand in comfort. “I’ll call Betty to
make you your favourite chocolate cookies. Okay?” He turned towards
the main house and shouted, “Betty, make Dad something to eat. He’s
upset again.”
    Betty was Hunter’s stepmother, or more
precisely their housemaid who had turned into his stepmother. His
father had remarried when Hunter turned sixteen. No woman was like
Betty. She was amazing. In fact, she was the only woman he could
tolerate living in the same house. She was a sweet soul, and he was
glad when she agreed to marry his father.
    Betty, upon hearing Hunter’s shout, came
rolling out of the kitchen door at the back of the house, dressed
in an apron, a rolling pin in her hand. Her face was white, covered
in flour. She must be baking again, Hunter thought.
    “Betty, what are you doing? You have flour
all over your face,” Hunter said as Betty got closer.
    “I was cooking something for Clinton,” she
said, waving the rolling pin in her hand.
    “Right,” Hunter said, nodding his head.
    Betty came closer and sniffed him.
    “Master Hunter, did you bathe in alcohol?
You stink. Go and clean up.” Betty pushed Hunter towards the house
entrance.
    “I didn’t bathe in it, Betty, but a maniac
woman suddenly thought it would be fun to spray me with the alcohol
she was about to ingest.”
    “Serves you right, Master Hunter, for always
changing your women like you change your clothes.”
    “She’s not my woman, Betty,” Hunter
retorted.
    “I’m sure you’ll be chasing her up until she
becomes your woman. Am I right, Master Hunter?” Betty teased.
    “Argh, all right, all right, enough with the
master,” Hunter said, wanting to shake his stepmother. She had been
his mother for over six years now, and not once did she ever call
him her son, always referring to him as Master . Maybe she
was scared he might be like one of those kids who would resent her
for marrying his father. Well, at first he did resent her for
coming into his father’s life, stealing away all his attention, but
after seeing how Betty had lightened his father’s life, he’d given
in.
    “If you want me to stop calling you master,
then go