Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(54)

All three of us look at him.

“She was taking photos of the showerheads to show a contractor at some condo complex what sort of fixtures she wanted. Emily has such exquisite taste in showers. And showerheads. And showering companions.”

“Are you talking about yourself, or about watching Emily shower with Daisy?” A week of diaper duty has made me a pro, so I’m already picking Remy up off the table as I ask the question.

Self-preservation.

None of them will punch me for the question if I’m holding a baby.

But all three of them pause thoughtfully, as though it wouldn’t surprise them to find Daisy showering with any of their girlfriends, and they’re not opposed to the idea of watching.

“You all have issues,” I tell them.

All three crack grins.

“You might be okay,” Beck says.

“More okay if you get us tickets to the Florida-Thrusters game,” Derek muses.

“Hockey tickets? That’s your price?”

“That and a cheeseburger,” Beck agrees.

“And a full run-down of your intentions toward Daisy,” Jude adds.

“I intend to be a good co-guardian to Remy. Period. Dot. End of story.” At least, as much as I can say of the story. Not really my place to rat her out to her friends if they want to believe I’m the kind of guy who’d stick around for eighteen years for a kid that I don’t actually have a legit claim to.

Except I’m starting to think I would.

Derek cocks a brow at me. “Fairly boring story.”

“She not pretty enough for you?” Beck asks.

Jude folds his arms over his chest. “You believe all that crap about her reputation?”

I shrug. “Don’t care what she does, unless it impacts Remy.”

At least, in an ideal world I wouldn’t care.

The truth is more complicated, and it involves asking these three the secret handshake to getting in on scaring the fuck out of anyone who’d look at her wrong.

I’m no slouch. I still work out, because I’m not old until Tyler can out-bench me, and I refuse to get old for at least forty more years.

But I’m also not stupid, nor am I the biggest guy in the room. Both Beck and Jude have some inches and some girth on me.

In height and muscles.

My cock can hold its own here, I’m positive.

Point is, I could probably not embarrass myself in an arm-wrestling match with any of them individually—including Derek—and I could handle any of Daisy’s potential boyfriends just as well as they could, but four of us teaming up would weed out the real jackasses quick.

And my blood pressure is hitting the roof at the idea of any jackass coming near Daisy.

And by jackass, I basically mean anyone who has any intentions of getting her into bed for any reason.

Male.

Female.

Rich.

Poor.

Secretly a serial killer.

Volunteers for Doctors Without Borders or the Peace Corps.

All jackasses who better not lay a fucking finger on her.

Shit.

I have a problem. I know better than to have a problem, but I’m definitely developing a problem.

All three of my morning guests grin at me.

“This will be so fun to watch,” Jude says.

Beck nods in agreement.

“Gentlemen. You know Daisy doesn’t date. Don’t torture the poor man with making him think he has a chance.”

“You’re so fucked,” Remy tells me.

Okay, not really.

But he does give a loud coo that ends in a grin that’s nearly identical to the three loony lovebirds cheering for my demise.

A crack of thunder rumbles across the ground outside.

“Look, here’s the deal,” Derek says. “We’re actually here to offer you our friendship, because of the four women who built this community, well…we’ve already gotten the best three. And we’re sorry you got the leftovers.”

“What?”

“Daisy’s no Luna,” Beck says.

“Or Cam,” Jude agrees. “And you’re not even getting to sample Crazy Daisy in the sheets, so—”

Baby or not, I have one hand wrapped around the giant’s neck while I shove him against the nearest wall. “Do not. Ever. Say that again,” I growl.

He grins again.

Beck snort-chuckles.

Derek smooth-chuckles.

“Yep, he’s clear,” Jude declares. “We can be friends. And he’s fucked.”

He grabs my hand off his neck and twists my wrist until it almost snaps.

“Forked,” I correct, and I sweep his feet out from under him, laying him out flat on the ground. “Don’t say fuck in front of the baby, and don’t forking make me take you down again. Ooh-rah.”

These assholes are all still grinning.

Jude leaps back to his feet and Beck shakes his head at all of us.

Derek claps me on the shoulder. “Good luck with the baby today. We’ll be at Emily’s house. Cristoff’s been leaving her shrimp and crab dishes all week since he can’t leave them here for Daisy. Might be enough for you if you get bored and lonely.”

Well, fuck.

That’s actually a damn good offer.

“Poker?” I ask.

“And beer,” Beck says. “And cheeseburgers.”