Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(47)

He hangs his head and rubs his temples, still without looking at me, and I know what he’s thinking.

If you want him to have a chance, then you need to get the fuck out of his life, because you’re just as screwed up as the rest of your family.

So maybe I can do the walk of shame.

That’s what it feels like as I slip mostly naked out of the pool and head back into my house without looking back.





Twenty-One





West



After the pool incident, Daisy emails me with an updated proposed schedule for Remy that includes her taking the majority of the responsibility for him. She’d take it all, she says, but for the legal challenge sake, I need to actually show evidence of taking some responsibility for him. She ends with a brief apology for making me uncomfortable.

It’s oddly human.

And I don’t mean I don’t think Daisy’s human. I think she’s the biggest kind of human—big personality, big bank account, big sex account.

Fuck.

She’s like a female Tyler, except bigger.

And weirdly more professional.

Didn’t see that coming. And I don’t know if she’s proving she can be professional, or if she had her assistant write it out for her, or if she’s proving a point that she’s not just a chaotic hornball.

But Monday morning, when I leave the Pepto Bismol room that I’ve been assigned and take Remy to her in her office, she’s typing away at a computer in neon pink reading glasses that remind me of the 1960s. Her shoulders are bare, because she’s in one of those shirts that has sleeves attached under her armpits. It’s pink and skintight, but her cleavage is covered.

“Good morning! You’re right on time.” She lifts a small crystal bowl. “Frozen yogurt?”

“No. Thank you.”

She peels off the reading glasses, tosses her bright, unnaturally red hair, and takes a bite while her eyes slide shut and a blissful smile slides over her lips. She visibly swallows. “Here if you ever want it.” And then she rises to show off skintight, silver glitter pants. And when she crosses around her desk, my nuts start drooling.

Can we slather her in froyo and then fuck her while she’s wearing those strappy stilettos? they want to know.

I tell them to shut the fuck up, because she’s like this for everyone. Whether she knows she’s capable of lifting a thousand flagpoles with one lick of her tongue on a frozen yogurt spoon, and if she does it on purpose for fun, I have no idea.

But my flagpole needs to stand at ease. “Diaper bag’s packed with six bottles and enough diapers for an army.”

“West! You didn’t have to do that. Thank you. I’ll make sure to return the favor. How is our little handsome man this morning?”

Remy yawns and waves a fist at her.

“Up at one and again at four,” I report.

“Such a good boy.” She bends over, giving me another whiff of coconut-scented Daisy, along with something fruity. She’s a tropical bundle of chaos and unpredictability, but she’s also something more.

The byproduct of a divorce that affected her more than she wants to admit, if that flash of panic and pain on her face yesterday afternoon was any indication.

Doesn’t matter how much money a person has. Can’t stop a heart from hurting.

She straightens and smiles at me. “I’ll keep him until dinner, then you have him until bedtime, and I’ll handle the overnight shift. I have three nannies coming in for interviews today, which will also help both of us get back to normal schedules.”

I nod. And hesitate in handing him over, holding him close instead of moving toward her outstretched arms, because I don’t like what I need to do today.

Namely, leave.

Not a good sign. Don’t get attached. Don’t get attached. Don’t get fucking attached, you idiot.

“Yeah. I need to…” I trail off, gesturing to the door.

“Of course. Go on.” She bends over him, trying to take him again, but once more, I can’t quite let him go. “Aunt Daisy has this. Don’t I, you adorable little heartbreaker?”

Remy coos at her.

“We’re going to have so much fun! Tummy time and reading books and taking naps and eating bottles! And maybe we’ll even go take a stroll through the village, but not eat any shrimp. Won’t we? Yes, we will.”

“Great. Thanks. Here.” As I’m about to finally surrender the baby, his lips part, then twist. His eyeballs cross, and a moment later, an unmistakable sound explodes from beneath his butt that I can feel clearly in the palm of my hand.

He shifts like he’s really grinding into it, and another butt-plosion rockets against my hand.

Daisy freezes, but she also grins. “Let it all out, dude. Gas like that can’t feel good. We all get it.”

“He’s not passing gas.”

“We’re all humans here. I pass gas. You pass gas. The baby can pass gas if he wants to pass gas. No judgment. This?” She circles her hand around her office, and I notice the paperweight on her desk is also a crystal penis. “This is a judgment-free zone.”

I put my finger on the tip of my nose.

“Exactly,” she declares. “Judgment-free zones are important.”

“Not it,” I reply.