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Whatever. All that mattered at the moment was that there was a
twenty-four year old fuck-up inside this restaurant who was about to have his ass handed to him and a lesson on growing up and being a man.
That was what Farren deserved, a man who stepped up to the plate and owned his responsibilities, whether he liked it or not. And for Farren, he had damn well better learn to like it.
When he saw the tall, lanky guy he recognized as Paul walking toward the old, beat up pick-up, Rogan stepped out and made his way over to meet the little hormone-riddled fuck-up.
“Hi, Paul,” he called across the distance before Paul could get into the vehicle without seeing him in the dark parking lot.
Paul’s head jerked around to see who was approaching, and when he caught a glimpse of Rogan, he took a relieved breath. “You scared the shit out of me, man. Do I know you?”
Rogan stopped a few feet from Paul and leaned one arm on the bed of Paul’s truck.
“You’ve seen me before, though we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m Rogan Rayner.” Your worst fucking nightmare, he thought to himself as he saw the recognition reach Paul’s eyes.
“Oh, yeah. You’re Farren’s boss, right?” Paul said, smiling.
“That’s right, Paul. I am her boss, and as such, I have a stake in her well-being, which is why you and I are going to have a conversation right now.” Rogan’s words were serious, and Paul began to squirm with discomfort.
“Uh, okay. What’s this about?” Paul asked, running a nervous hand across the back of his head.
Rogan crossed his arms across his chest, causing the defined muscles to bulge out through his long sleeves. It was a cold, mid-winter evening, but he didn’t wear a jacket and didn’t need one.
Needless to say, Paul found him rightfully intimidating.
“Farren told me today about your unwillingness to step up to your responsibilities where she’s concerned, and it occurs to me that maybe you need a little lesson in manhood,” he told Paul, realizing as the words left his mouth that he sounded like an overprotective father, but at the moment, he didn’t care.
This woman deserved a life of being treated like a queen, not being abandoned by some little fuck who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
Paul let out a nervous laugh. “And, uh… what responsibility would that be, sir?” he squeaked.
Rogan felt the rage beginning to boil inside him, but the genuine look of ignorance and confusion on Paul’s face told him to rein it back in.
“If I have to tell you what kind of responsibility a man needs to take when he knocks a girl up, then you and I have bigger problems than I thought,” Rogan said, quick and sharp.
Paul’s eyes went wide, and his mouth fell open. “Wait, Farren’s pregnant?” he asked in disbelief.
Rogan began to realize something didn’t seem right. “You didn’t know?”
Paul shook his head. “No. I can’t believe it. I didn’t know she was even dating anyone else since me. I mean, I guess it makes sense.”
“She hasn’t, dumb-ass. You’re the father.” There, he came out and said it.
Paul’s shocked look turned to adamant denial. “Look, man, I don’t know what makes you think that, but Farren and I haven’t been together in months.”
“Oh yeah? What, about three?” Rogan asked.
“No, more like six or seven. When I tried to get back with her a couple months back, she turned me down hard,” Paul admitted. “And we were always careful, so I’m pretty sure she’d be impossible to mistake for being pregnant right now if her baby was really mine.”
Rogan’s head spun as he wrapped his mind around the idea that Paul could be telling the truth.
He looked back toward his truck, then back at Paul. “I’ve got to go,” he said as he began jogging back to get in his vehicle.
He had a lot more to deal with tonight, and Paul had just added a whole new item to that growing list.
***
When Rogan pulled up to Elaina’s Lounge, he didn’t miss Dallas’s Beamer parked conspicuously in the front. This would be perfect, he thought. He could kill two proverbial birds with one stone.
