The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)(37)

Heaven help us all.

“That’s a bad boy,” I scold, wiping the spaghetti sauce from my cheek, sure I missed some as I dig the spoon back into the dish and try to feed him some more.

I try to make those silly airplane sounds and bring the spoon to his mouth only for him to smack it away with his chubby hand and shake his head.

Yeah, I was acing this motherhood gig.

I shove the spoon into my mouth and take a bite. Don’t judge me, at least it’s not one of those puff things that melt in your mouth. Usually, Eric and I share a tub of those for lunch.

“Okay, you’re done,” I declare as he smashes the few SpaghettiOs that fell onto the table into his shirt. I unclasp the harness from his body and lift him out of the chair, placing him down on his feet and watch as he waddles off into the unknown.

I take a minute to throw the bowl and spoon into the sink, figuring that’s how long I had until he made another mess out of something. Riggs baby-proofed the apartment, well, sort of. He bought those foam noodles you buy for the pool, cut them in half and duck taped them to every straight edge and sharp corner. I tried explaining to him they sold all sorts of gadgets, and he didn’t have to make his own but there wasn’t any way to convince him. The other day when Eric started opening the cabinets, I went to Babies R Us and bought the baby proof locks before Riggs engineered some sort of device to keep them closed.

The thing about baby proof locks is sometimes they work so well the adults can’t open them either. The locks went out the window when Riggs wound up pulling the cabinet off the hinge. Now, if you look at our kitchen, there are chain links tied around the knobs, and every cabinet is secured with a padlock. I don’t even remember the code to open the fucking things and gave up trying to figure them out.

I turn around just in time to watch Eric rip his diaper off and run around the coffee table naked.

Please don’t poop.

Please don’t pee.

The doorbell rings as I chase Eric around the table, attempting to put a new diaper on before I had a bigger mess. I’ve learned how to put his diaper on while he stands. I’m like a damn magician when it comes to those things, that Brady Bunch lady ain’t got nothing on me.

I grab Eric, lift him in the air as the bell rings again and yank the door open just as my sweet baby boy pees all over me.

“Oh dear Lord,” my guest screeches in horror, forcing my eyes away from my wet t-shirt to the couple standing at my door. The woman is immaculately dressed in linen pants and a deep navy, cowl neck, short sleeve shirt that matches her leather pumps. Her blonde hair perfectly drawn away from her face, fixed in a stylish braid, her face had minimal make-up. She didn’t need make-up, a natural beauty that didn’t have a wrinkle on her flawless skin. If I had to guess she was in her early fifties and that’s only judging by the man with graying hair that stood beside her, dressed in a three-piece suit.

I was used to the suit thing, my brother had spent most of his life hanging around mobsters dressed just like the man before me, but it was clear this guy wasn’t from that life. No these two people weren’t part of the get rich or die trying lifestyle, they were born wealthy; it was in their DNA.

What I didn’t get was why the hell they were here, looking at me and my son as if we were aliens.

“Can I help you?”

Mrs. Fancy Pants opened her mouth but Mr. Three-Piece Suit was the one who actually spoke.

“We’re looking for Robert Montgomery,” he declares, clearing his throat as he raises an eyebrow at Eric who is picking food out of my hair and flicking it at them.

“Riggs isn’t home,” I reply, swatting Eric’s hand from my hair as I narrow my eyes at the couple. What the hell did he get himself into now?

“Riggs? What is a Riggs?” The woman questions.

The man inches closer to the woman’s ear.

“That’s his alias,” he informs her.

“I’m sorry, who are you people?” I ask gritting my teeth as my son pulls on my hair.

“We’re Robert’s parents and you must be the girl he impregnated. Is this the child?”

I didn’t even have a chance to dwell on the whole impregnated thing as my eyes bulged and threatened to fall from their sockets. Oh my God! These people were Riggs’ parents. Here I was with pee on my shirt, spaghetti in my hair and a naked baby on my hip.

Yeah, their son really struck gold with me.

I was the pick of the litter.

“Oh my God! I’m sorry, please come in,” I say, moving aside and glancing over my shoulder at the apartment. For fuck’s sake it looked like a tornado hit the place. Then I remembered what I looked like, talk about a twister.

They carefully step foot inside the apartment, stepping over toys and whatever else was lying on the floor. I watch as Riggs’ dad stares down at his shoes and my bra that lay beside his fancy loafer.

I shake my head, bending down to snatch the bra and sheepishly smile at my—in laws?

What a nightmare.

I try to balance Eric in my arms as he tries to wiggle free from them, reaching out to his grandparents.

“I’m Lauren,” I say hopelessly, forcing a smile as I glance at Eric and my hope becomes restored. These people came here to meet their grandson, they don’t care about what the house looks like or what I look like for that matter. I smile genuinely as I turn to Riggs’ parents.