Too Sweet (Hayes Brothers #3)(70)
“Are you ready to order?” he asks.
“Yes.” Aisha beams, setting the menu down.
She and Toby get their orders in while I focus on Mia’s pretty face to drown out everything else.
“We’ll have the grilled prawns and halloumi for starters,” she says as her turn comes around. “And I heard the souvlakis here are the best, so we’ll take that twice with a side of Greek salad. A glass of Chablis, and...” She peers up at me over the menu.
“Water,” I supply.
“So? What’s new?” Aisha asks once we all have drinks. “I, for one, am writing a new book, and you two...” She points between Mia and me, “...are my inspiration.”
Mia’s cheeks instantly burn bright. “Please don’t. Your books are full of sex. I don’t want you imagining us...”
Aisha squeals, bouncing in her seat. “You had sex?!” she whisper-shouts. “Oh my God! When?! Why didn’t you tell me?” She playfully shoves Mia away. “Was it good? Did it hurt?”
“We are not talking about that,” Mia mutters, kneading the tablecloth. “Tell me more about the book.”
“God, you’re such a prude. Come on, give me something! Anything! Was he good to you? Did he make you come?” She shoots me a pointed stare over the table. “You better—”
“You better stop getting on my nerves.”
She rolls her eyes but changes the subject, complaining about a model she hired for a photo shoot.
“He was hitting on Cass the entire time,” she says, rinsing a bite of food with wine. “You should’ve seen Logan when he walked in with Noah and found the guy leaning over the counter, shirtless, making eyes at her.”
“I can imagine. Logan loses his cool almost as fast as I do.”
“Well, he didn’t hit him, but he took him outside for a chat, and when they came back, the guy didn’t even look at Cass again.”
“He probably threatened to feed him his dick,” Toby laughs.
“Maybe.” She shrugs, and her eyes light up. “And oh my God, how freaking cute is your godson? He’s the first baby I actually like. They’re all whiny, but Noah’s just a cutie pie.”
Looking at her now, at how happy she is with Toby, touching him whenever she has a chance, and watching his every move with awe, I have a feeling this thing between them will escalate quickly. Wedding by the end of the year, and a kid a few months later.
We spend two hours eating and talking before we part ways and I’ve got Mia in my house all alone. Toby and Aisha hopped in a cab outside the restaurant, heading to Tortugo for drinks, and the triplets are out partying as always.
I pour us two glasses of wine, listening to a very distressed voicemail message from one of my ex-clients, then call my assistant as Mia enters the kitchen.
“One minute, baby,” I say, kissing her head and handing her a glass of wine when Jasmine answers. “Jas, I need you in the office tomorrow. Arnold Grey pulled out all his money last week and just called to say he lost everything.”
“Surprise, surprise,” she sing-songs in my ear. “You told him not to do it. Why are you helping him? Should I remind you what kind of shit he said before he banged the door?”
I follow Mia into the living room, where she sits by the piano, wiggling her fingers like she’s been itching for this all day.
“Karma got him back, don’t you think?” I tell Jasmine, taking a seat behind Mia. “He’s coming over at nine with whatever he’s got left. I’ll send you the trades I want set up for him.”
“Yeah, alright. I’ll be there. Send me the trades.”
“In an hour,” I confirm, cutting the call and trailing my lips up Mia’s neck. “Next time you play here, I want you to wear that tulle skirt from the Spring Break party.”
“Why?” Her delicate fingers flit up and down the keyboard, playing “Lucy The Tease” by Allan Rayman.
“I imagined my head under that skirt when I first saw you here. It’s time we turn that into reality.”
She squirms, her breathing hitching, the images my words paint enough to make her wet. Ready for me.
“Sing, baby,” I whisper in the shell of her ear, my hand tracing along her thigh from knee to hip.
She does, leaning back as she sings, every word heavy with emotions. I fucking hope she’s not just singing.
I hope she means every word.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Nico
WORK, WORK, WORK.
It never bothered me that I work twenty-four-seven. If I’m not at the office, I visit my other businesses, deal with emergencies, or answer one call after the other.
Mia’s been mine for less than a month, but I’m already sick of work. I hadn’t realized I was filling a void buying cocktail bars and clubs and spending late evenings at the office. I never had a reason to rush home, but since Mia, that’s all I do.
Or try, at least, but as fate would have it, the past month has been a nightmare. Not an hour goes by without a phone call. Not a day without issues. Not one evening without something going down that requires my attention.
We were supposed to head to the movies tonight with Theo and Thalia, but a pipe burst in one of my cocktail bars half an hour before I picked Mia up. Instead of an evening with my girl, I spent four hours getting the mayhem under control.