Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(22)

In all fairness, Shawn and Logan are great dads, and I know Theo will be, too, but life would be boring if we stopped riling each other up at every turn.

The license thing, though... it’s fucked up if you think about it. You need a license to drive a car, but you don’t need one to raise a human being?

Someone should introduce that.

Logan: You sure wouldn’t pass the test, bro.

See? Fun.

Cody: We’re in Vegas.

Logan: Cass is out. I’m holding down the fort. No green goo or puke here. We’re due code brown soon, though. You’re welcome to stop by. I’ll teach you how to change a diaper.

And underneath his text, a picture of him and little Noah in matching jerseys. Soon enough, they’ll be wearing matching caps, I’m sure.

Conor: Dude! I’m eating! Stop with the disgusting bodily fluids.

Logan: You’re always eating!

Cody: You need us, Nico? We can face-time.

Conor stuffing his face with whatever he’s in the mood for, mumbling every sentence, Colt with his piss-poor moody attitude, and the one I’m trying not to stab in the back.

Not what I need right now.

Me: No. I’ll call Toby and Adrian.

Less than an hour later, the three of us enter Tortugo per Toby’s request. Adrian’s always game, and while I should be dealing with the power outage that happened earlier in Q, I left it to the general manager. Something I should do more often, considering it’s his job.

Too bad he’s cluelessly running every tiny detail by me at all hours. I should hire a professional to find the reason for the outage, but I let myself off the hook so I can screw my head back in place.

Pun intended.

We stop at the bar, ordering beers, ready to get a few down our throats before we hit the club. I’m on the hunt, glancing around the room, searching for the perfect woman to take home tonight. Instead of a sharp-featured brunette, I spot a blonde I know all too well.

“Am I paranoid or...” Aisha says, amusement lacing her voice as she stops before us, “...are you stalking me, Toby?” She grins, their weird, flirtatious tug-of-war about to begin—again.

Toby and Aisha had a thing last year when they spent two weeks traveling all over Mexico. Things were going well till he cut her loose when they got home. He’d never admit it out loud, but he got scared. We’ve been friends for years. I know how he thinks. He was falling in love too fast, so he dumped her.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Toby muses, cuffing Aisha’s wrist to pull her closer. “I read your books, baby girl. I know what you like.”

I tune them out.

Aisha has an undeniable ability to drive me up the wall with her presence alone. I don’t know what it is about her. She can be a bit ostentatious but overall she’s a good kid; yet my blood boils whenever she’s around.

Before she hooked up with Toby, she tried it on with me. I shot her down and she decided we should be friends. Apparently, I was the first guy who said no to her, and she took that as a great basis for friendship.

She’s been getting on my nerves ever since.

Most people aren’t comfortable around me. I’ve got a tight circle of friends who know there’s no reason to hold themselves wound up tight in my presence, but everyone else is always wary. Some are downright scared.

Not Aisha. She finds annoying me entirely too entertaining, and now that she’s dancing back and forth with Toby again, I see her more often than I’d like.

I take a long, hard look around the bar, scanning many women and waiting until something clicks inside my head.

It does. Louder than a fired gun.

I look again, double-checking my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me.

Fuck.

I squeeze the back of my neck, my entire body flooding with blazing heat. Huffing an exasperated puff of air down my nose, I glance at the ceiling, muttering profanities until the dictionary of filthy words runs dry.

She’s here.

She’s fucking here, of all places.

She stands twenty feet away on her toes, despite wearing heels. That’s how tiny she is. Even in heels, she’d fit under my arm without an issue. The baby-blue dress she wears is an inch below the knee, flared from the waist down. Her blonde hair is in two braids hanging down her front to her waist.

The bartender slides a wine glass her way, and she turns around, those emerald greens of hers laser-focused on one of the tables. She’s a far cry from what I got myself used to. Oddly refreshing with the aura of goodness humming around her. I never noticed girls like Mia, but she stole my attention with piano, and there was no overlooking her after that.

I move away from the bar on autopilot, following in her footsteps. The honeysuckle scent lingers like an invisible trail leading to treasure. I catch her wrist before she approaches whichever table she’s heading to. The touch of her skin sends a shot of endorphins through my system, but it’s not enough to ease my flaring temper.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mia?”

The triplets are in Vegas, and the thought of her not being looked after makes my skin crawl. There are far too many sleazy assholes roaming Newport Beach for a girl like Mia to be out without a bodyguard.

“Why are you shouting at me?” She gawks at my hand holding her wrist. Her eyes narrow, and the self-defense skills my brothers taught her resurface. She glances at my throat, then quickly checks the position of my legs.