Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(26)

She trails off, and all three of my friends look at me.

Because what do you do with a baby while you’re having a hot weekend fling with an Italian stallion is probably beyond what all three of them think is an appropriate thing to say out loud.

“What about what?” a now-familiar male voice asks behind them.

All three of my friends turn as one.

“Wow,” Cam whispers.

“Hello, arm porn,” Emily murmurs.

Luna pokes me. “Did you start dating American men again? Because that man right there would convince me to date American men again if I were you. Or at least to consider it.”

“Where’s the baby?” West asks.

“He’s rockin’ the pool life,” I reply with a smile and a gesture toward the baby cabana. “Water’s perfect. Dive on in.”

He’s in jeans, tan work boots that I’d bet are steel-toed, and a Marines T-shirt that perfectly matches the scowl on his square jaw. To say he hasn’t been in the best of moods since he agreed to move in would be an understatement. I’m telling myself that this isn’t a mistake, that he’ll cheer up soon, but I’m also getting nervous that I’m totally fucked.

Because he, too, could tell the courts I’m an unfit mother.

And then I’d lose everything.

“Did you put sunscreen on him?” he asks.

“Organic, baby-safe sunscreen, I hope,” Luna pipes up.

“Who are you?” Emily rarely minces words. Also, don’t get between her and the people she loves if you don’t want to lose an appendage.

“Who are you?” West counters.

Emily slides me a look, her blond hair shimmering in the sunlight and making her look like a runway model while her sharp blue-gray eyes silently ask permission to practice her ninja-jiujitsu skills on him.

“So, that’s the other part of my news,” I say casually to my friends. “Westley Jaeger, meet Emily Stanton, Luna da Rosa, and Cameron Whitbury. Em trained our alligator to play fetch with men’s balls, and Luna and Cam know how to dispose of a body, which is basically unnecessary when you consider the alligator.”

“Was that a threat?”

“No, standard warning everyone gets when they visit Bluewater the first time. I couldn’t possibly threaten you, given all that you’re doing for my family.” I smile easily at him to let him know I’m kidding, then turn to my friends. “Julienne and Rafe designated West here as Remy’s co-guardian. Best I can tell, it was because Julienne liked how his ass filled out his jeans while he was remodeling the baby’s nursery a few months ago.”

“What are your intentions with this baby?” Emily asks.

West lifts a brow. “Are you related to Imogen Carter too?”

All four of us gasp, because no one insults my besties by implying that they, too, share blood with The Dame.

“We are not going to be friends,” Luna murmurs.

“He’s cranky. Took the night shift,” I whisper, which is a better story than he doesn’t want to be here. But I like him not wanting to be here. It puts a layer of protection between me and that undeniable attraction I have to the man who played along like he was a stripper before my grandmother dropped a bombshell on both of us the other night.

“My three friends here helped design and build the Bluewater community,” I tell him as I sling my arms around Emily and Luna. “They all run billion-dollar corporations and are strong, powerful, sexy-ass motherfucking women who are basically going to rule the world one day. Also known as Remy’s de facto aunts, whom he’ll probably love more than he loves me, which is saying something, because I’m kinda fabulous, but I’m going to have to learn to be a disciplinarian once he starts crawling and talking.”

Bluewater was a dream come true for all of us. My friends wanted a warm, welcoming, private place to call home, and I wanted to be near the three women who understood completely how hard it is to navigate the world with the extra pressure of so many people wanting to see you fail, merely because you broke out of the mold they wanted to put you into.

Bonus that from the air, the enclave looks like a uterus, complete with fallopian tubes branching out to two ovaries. Emily, Luna, Cam, and I live on one. The marina’s on the other ovary, at the end of the private airfield on the other fallopian tube.

There’s a reason I call us Miami’s vagillionaires.

Our community isn’t just for us though. We wanted a safe haven for other people who need shelter from prying eyes and uplifting neighbors and who want to embrace the best part of life on the beach. We screen every applicant who wants to purchase property or a condo or open a shop, and we have a lengthy privacy agreement, which means now we have a robust, vibrant, diverse neighborhood with the most amazing people ever who don’t just want to rub elbows with us, but who want to be a part of something bigger than themselves.

Remy’s so lucky he gets to grow up here.

I can’t wait to take him walking through the village to meet all the little shop owners and take him boating and out to feed Steve, the resident three-legged alligator, and oh my god, I’m basically a mom now.

West looks each of my friends up and down again, then his shoulders sag in defeat while he mutters something about sisters.

He has sisters. He told me so. Google confirmed it.