“Yes, you do.”
“Fine, Marvel and Pixar movies. That Banzai thing isn’t one of those, so it doesn’t exist to me.”
Hayes crosses his arms and glares super ugly at me. I love when he does that shit. He’s especially hot when he tries to intimidate me. I especially like how his lips get pouty like a really grumpy baby. I smile at his expression and wonder if he’s messing with me with all of this heir talk.
“Not everything is a fucking joke,” he grumbles when I don’t stop smiling at him.
“See this from my point of view, boss. You always seem full of shit. How can I tell when you’re not?”
“Pay attention.”
“Or you could talk differently when you’re not full of shit,” I suggest.
“No.”
“Have you interviewed any other wide-hipped women for this great heir-making opportunity?”
Hayes gives me his junkyard dog expression, and I should be scared. He’s a scary guy, but he won’t do anything besides yell at me. When I think of all the effort he goes through to terrify me, I begin laughing.
“Idiot,” he grumbles, walking back to his office.
“I’ll think about it. I mean, giant babies are a lot of responsibility.”
I see him shake his head in irritation, but I can’t believe he actually thought I’d agree.
Leaning back in my chair, I consider breeding with another rich guy. With Toby, I felt no emotional connection to my baby daddy. It’s why his nagging about an abortion never affected me. He could have said anything, and I wouldn’t falter. He was simply a means to an end. Of course, Hayes isn’t Toby.
ELEVEN - CANDY
On the kids’ first day of school, I’m a basket case of mommy's nerves. I walk them to their separate third-grade classes and admit they won’t have fun today. No doubt Cricket will spend the day comparing everything to her old class while Chipper will disappear into the crowd. They’ll meet up at recess and recharge their twin powers. I promise to take them out to dinner and let them complain about everything they hated.
By the time I reach the office, I want to cry. It’s a mommy reaction. I know they’ll be fine, but I feel guilty for giving them a bad day. It’s my job to hurt for my babies, and I see no reason to deny the feeling.
“What’s your problem?” Hayes asks, walking out of his office when I arrive.
“My babies started school today.”
“You should homeschool them,” he says casually. “Schools today are failures.”
“You told me to put them in school so they wouldn’t become morons,” I mutter.
“Well, that was before you started moping around the office.”
“How can I homeschool when I’m working? Also, how in the hell does someone homeschool?”
“I don’t know. Google it.”
“You’re not making me feel better.”
“I wasn’t trying,” he says, smirking. “I could hug you, but I can’t imagine that would do anything except get you moist.”
“You’re in a weird mood today.”
“Not really. I have been thinking, though.”
“About what?” I ask, walking into the mini-kitchen to get myself a cup of coffee.
“I want to trust you with more responsibilities.”
“Okay, but these new responsibilities aren’t gross, are they?” I ask, thinking about his heir offer.
“No, but they involve me trusting you. Can I? You’re not bailing on this job if I don’t baby you during your next period, are you?”
“I’m on my period now, and I don’t want you babying me,” I lie while returning to my desk. “Staying away from me would be helpful, though.”
“No alone time today, babe. In fact, don’t waste time logging in. We’re running errands today.”
I study him and find my smile. He’s in a good mood and the damn thing’s infectious.
Once outside, Hayes helps me climb into his giant truck by grabbing my ass and pushing up. I grunt at his version of chivalry. At least, I was smart enough to wear jeans today, so his hand doesn’t encounter a warm greeting from the spot between my legs.
“Where are we going?” I ask as soon as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“My father has caregivers who handle him and his house, but I need you to check up on them. You need to make sure they’re keeping the place clean, feeding his cat, and giving him meds and food.”
“Are you overly cautious or is there something you’re specifically concerned about?”
“Overly cautious,” he says, honking at a car full of senior citizens. “Balthazar has a full-time caregiver named Lizzy Anne. There’s also a nurse who visits once a week to make sure he’s getting his meds. The setup is solid, but I don’t trust anyone.”
When I smile at him, Hayes’s expression shifts into a grumpy frown. He knows I think he’s a big softie.
“Don’t,” he warns.
“You love your daddy,” I tease.