Crazy for Loving You: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(78)

“I’m kissing you because you’re so much more.”

Her brow furrows, and her gaze drops. “I’m not. I fake my way through everything,” she whispers.

Whoa, my nuts say. She fakes it? Fuck! Give the woman a real fucking orgasm, Marine!

“I mean—not that.” She squirms and climbs off my lap. “I mean I’m only successful in business because people like me.”

Regroup! Regroup! my balls shriek. Regroup and go after that nooky!

Insensitive fuckers.

But in this case, I don’t think they’re wrong.

Daisy needs some TLC. And it’s time I give it to her.





Thirty-Two





Daisy



So there I was. Sitting right in West’s lap. Kissing the hell out of him. Feeling that thick ridge under my thigh. Knowing I was going to get some tonight.

And now I’ve completely and totally killed the mood.

Because he thinks I’m something I’m not.

A month ago, I wouldn’t have cared. I would’ve lured him downstairs to my office, smothered us both with froyo, and weathered this storm with some good old-fashioned monkey sex all night.

But I can’t let him think I’m something I’m not. He’s in this for the long haul, and we can’t co-parent Remy if I’m not honest with him.

“Daisy.” He grips my shoulders gently, stopping me from my retreat into my bedroom. “Being a people person is a skill. And you’re not faking your way through taking care of Remy.”

Oh, god, he has no idea. Do I love the little guy? With all my heart. But can I do this? I honest to god don’t know. I’m going to fuck him up so bad. “I am. I’m totally faking it.”

“That kid adores you. Babies see through fake.”

“But he’s so easy. It’s not me. It’s him. I’m not looking for pity here. I have a good life. There are seven and a half billion people on earth, and I have more than all but like a thousand of them. But I’m not a good person. My friend Emily? She helps minimize the appearance of scar tissue on people who need it. Cam runs a foundation that funds scholarships for kids and so much more. Luna’s a freaking charity goddess and an earth savior to boot. Her boyfriend Big Dick Beck saves innocent dogs. And what do I do? I tell Carbs ’n Coffee to put everyone’s bill on my tab some random day. That’s—that’s—”

“Incredibly thoughtful.”

“So small compared to what I could do.” My chest is warming even as I have to stop myself from banging my head against the nearest bookcase, because it’s not enough.

“It’s not small to make someone’s day. And getting up to the counter to order a burger and finding out—”

I suck in a breath, and he freezes.

I didn’t say burgers. I said donuts.

“You did that at Beach Burgers,” he says quietly. “The day we inherited Remy.”

“Maybe,” I mutter, and I hope I’m talking to his bad ear.

No such luck though.

“Never saw a tip jar so full as it was that night.” His voice is a quiet, soothing rumble. “There’s a ripple effect. You do something nice for someone, they’re inspired to do something nice for someone else. You didn’t just buy a few hundred burgers, Daisy. You reminded a few hundred people of the power of joy.”

“I was buying happier feelings,” I blurt. “The funeral—it was awful. No one was sad they were gone. I didn’t do it for the people getting free burgers. I did it to make myself feel better.”

“You did it for both.”

“Does it really count as a random act of kindness if I’m doing it so someone misses me when I’m gone?”

“Who knew it was you?”

I mumble an answer, lower this time.

“Little louder for the good ear, Daisy.” He grips my shoulders firmer and turns me around. I want to bury my head over Remy, but I make myself meet his gaze.

“I said, no one. I mean, Tiana and Alessandro know, and the manager at Beach Burgers, but he also knows I won’t do it again if he lets it slip that it’s me, and his staff makes such good money on those days when I—I mean, I got a free burger out of it myself, and—”

“Why are you minimizing your impact in the world?”

“Because it’s not about them. It’s about making me feel good. And that’s just as selfish and stupid as my grandmother diving into a pile of cash in her version of an adult ball pit room in her fortress. I’m a horrible, awful, selfish asshole who only wants to have fun.”

He gapes at me like I’ve just sprouted some of my mom’s artwork out of my ears. Like he’s seeing me for the first time.

Like it all makes sense now.

I’m an alien in a human body, incapable of this love thing people speak of.

“Have you had so little love in your life that you don’t know how valuable you are? And I’m not talking about your bank account, Daisy. I’m talking about this.”

His hand settles high on my breast, next to Remy’s little head, as close as he can get to my heart.

“I don’t have one of those,” I tell him. “I can’t. I’m a Carter. We get them traded in for mechanical banks when we’re born.”