Page 33 of Baby Daddy
CHAPTER 17
Dee
The three of us were in Drake’s gazillion dollar convertible, me in the front sitting next to him and Tyson in the back strapped into her car seat. The top was down and the radio was tuned to some Top 40 countdown station. Tyson had never been in a convertible before and was loving every minute as if it were an amusement park ride. Looking over my shoulder, happiness shot through me as I caught sight of her big smile and her braids whipping in the wind. Oh, my beautiful little girl.
It had been a busy morning. Right after I made a pancake breakfast for everyone (after I recovered from Drake’s enormous erection), Drake took us to Big Five, a sporting goods store, to buy Ty and me ice skates; his, I learned, were already in the trunk of his car—hockey ready. “Why can’t we just rent them at the rink?” I’d asked him. “And how much do I owe you?” I didn’t feel comfortable accepting gifts from him. I was still taken aback from the boatload of toys he’d given Ty while she was in the hospital.
“First of all,” he said, handing the cashier his credit card, “the ice skating rink we’re going to doesn’t have rentals. And secondly, I’ll come up with a way in which you can pay me back.” He shot me a wicked grin that sent a fiery arrow to my core.
For the rest of the ride, my eyes skipped back and forth between the glorious sight of Drake’s profile and the spectacular canyon we were driving up. Wearing sexy Ray-Bans, Drake managed the sharp curves with precision as if he’d navigated them a thousand times before. Stately mansions with preened gardens dotted either side of the winding road. It was hard for me to imagine a skating rink in the middle of this magnificent neighborhood.
Midway up the canyon, we turned onto a tree-lined street. The ginormous houses that came into view made the ones along the canyon look like cottages. I’d never seen anything like them. They were practically fairy-tale castles. For sure, we had entered the land of the rich and famous. This must be some very elite skating rink. A cloud of intimidation swept over me.
“Are we there yet?” demanded Tyson from the back seat.
“Almost.” Drake smiled. “It’s right behind the big gate on the left.”
“Where are we?” I asked, following his gaze.
“Beverly Hills. More precisely, Beverly Park.”
Wow! This is where movie stars lived. I was totally awestruck as he stopped at the guardhouse outside the ornate gate. With a smile and no questions, the guard opened the massive iron structure and let Drake in. The sprawling houses sitting on acres of land made my eyes grow wide and took my breath away.
“Wow, Mommy!” squealed my little girl. “Look at all these pretty hotels.”
Drake chuckled. “That’s my parents’ house on the right.”
Holy cow! It was the biggest house I’d ever seen. Two massive stories of gray stone with turrets that made it look like a French castle sitting on acres of grass so green I thought for a minute that I was Dorothy in the Emerald City. Nope, we weren’t in Kansas anymore. My mouth was agape as we pulled into the circular drive that could easily hold two dozen more cars.
“Are we stopping here for a reason?” I asked as Drake put the car in park.
“Yup. This is where we’re going skating.”
Five short minutes later, Drake was escorting us through his parents’ vast backyard. It was more like a golf course with grassy hills and vales, and as we walked toward our destination with our skates tied together and slung over our shoulders, I even saw two men playing golf in the distance. Drake told me it was his father and Saul Bernstein, who headed up Conquest Broadcasting, the parent company of the kids’ channel, Peanuts. It was their weekly Saturday game. Along the way, we passed a grotto-like swimming pool with a waterfall and pool house, a tennis court, and exquisite patches of flowers and shrubs, although oddly not a tree in sight. Drake told me this is where he’d grown up. It was nothing like the trailer park I’d grown up in and a deep feeling of inferiority gnawed at my stomach. Tyson, on the other hand, who was skipping ahead of us, was acting as if she’d just been sucked into the pages of an enchanted fairy tale. Like she was born to live here.
Shortly, we reached a palatial glass pavilion. As Drake led us inside, a chill in the air descended upon me while classical music filled my ears. The skating rink. In the center, a lone figure was doing some kind of intricate spin. She was tall and slim, with long toned legs that looked even longer in her ice skates and short sparkly skating outfit. Her almost white platinum hair was held back in a bun that hit the nape of her swan-like neck. She was in a word, elegant. A sight to behold.
“Who’s that?” I whispered to Drake.
“My mother.”
His mother?She looked no older than forty.
“She works out here daily. She used to be a champion ice skater and toured with the Ice Capades. My father built this rink just after I was born for her thirtieth birthday.”
“Mommy, she’s such a good skater!” piped Tyson while I mentally calculated her age to be about sixty. “I want to skate like that.”
My eyes stayed riveted on Drake’s stunning mother as the music concluded and she finished her routine with a graceful leap. Spotting us, she skated our way, her speed astonishing and her form magnificent.
“Drake, darling! How good to see you! What a wonderful surprise!” She leaned over the railing to give Drake a kiss on each cheek. I could see the resemblance between them—the deep-set eyes, chiseled bone structure, and flawless skin.
She zeroed in on the gash above his eyebrow that was now uncovered despite my insistence to keep the Band-Aid on. “What in heavens happened to your face? Please don’t tell me it’s another hockey mishap.”
“No, Mom. It’s just um, uh, a shaving nick.”
While I shuddered at the thought of what really happened, she twisted her lips with disapproval. “Well, darling, don’t pick at it or it’ll leave a scar.”
Her focus then switched to Tyson and me. “And who might your friends be?”