Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101902 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
“I mean…maybe? I’ve only met him and the kids once. I don’t know them well enough. Would the ex-wife even agree?” Peyton sighed and rustled with something in the background. “I see where you’re coming from. I do. You wanna help your so-called friend—”
“What was that?” I frowned. “So-called?”
“Well…” She did this annoying thing where she dragged out the word unnecessarily. “Are you sure he’s just your friend? He’s bisexual, isn’t he?”
This again. I rolled my eyes and stopped at a red light. You bring a guy and his kids home for Christmas a single time, and suddenly the women had a wedding to plan. Yeah, Sloan and I were just friends. For the hundredth time.
“We’re not doing this today,” I said.
Sloan and I…yeah, no. I’d never ruin our friendship with fleeting bullshit like love. It was a surefire recipe for disaster and eventually losing him. Not to mention the kids. I loved them more than life. Sloan too. It would break me to lose him.
Had I thought about it? Was the sky blue? Sloan was hella attractive and ticked all the right boxes, but no. He was also a complete fucking mess—and way too stubborn. Stubborn and bossy and dominant.
A Daddy Dom, to be accurate.
“Hon, Crew is calling,” Peyton said. “We can talk later.”
That worked for me. I was almost at Sloan’s anyway.
“Tell him I said hey,” I replied. “Later.” We disconnected the call, and I turned onto Sloan’s street.
I made a mental note to email Crew tonight. I’d like to see him before he shipped out.
I parked outside Sloan’s building just as Jamie came running out with his backpack and a pillow he refused to sleep without, and that put a grin on my face. The kid was growing so fucking fast. Eight going on eighteen.
“Hi, we’re going to your place!”
“You’re damn right, little man.” Soon as I jumped out of the truck, he was there to hug my middle. “How’s school? Are you nice to your teachers?”
“I think so!” He peered up at me with a big smile, revealing that one of his front teeth was missing. “Look, the tooth fairy came to Dad this week!”
“Fuck yeah, did’ju get rich?”
He nodded smugly and threw his pillow into the truck. “I got a dollar.”
Oof. He could practically retire.
Jason was next, and he was busy with his phone.
I let out a sharp whistle to get his attention. “Oi, look alive, champ.”
“Huh?” He glanced up and gave me a smile. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. What’s good?”
We bumped fists, because he’d outgrown hugs or some such bullshit.
“Nothing,” he replied and climbed into the truck.
Good talk. But I remembered what it was like at eleven, when you were balancing on the line between child and preteen.
I could count on Emma-Jo, a four-year-old ballbuster. She came rushing out with her father and baby brother in tow, and I squatted down to get to her level.
“Speak Marine to me, Uncle Greer!”
I chuckled, and then I put on my best drill instructor voice, which was more of a permanent barking sound. “Don’t just stand there, corporal! Did someone glue your boots to the ground? I asked, did someone glue your boots to the ground! Move out, move out, move out!”
She laughed hard and threw her arms around my neck. “Didn’t you hear I’m a private now?”
“You got demoted?” I chuckled and kissed the side of her head.
“Oorah!”
Christ, this girl. “Oorah.” I picked her up and tossed her into the back seat with Jason. “Strap into your seat, private.”
I grabbed Jamie’s booster seat from the back too, and I handed it to him in the front. Then I could greet my cranky little monster. Loki, not Sloan. He looked like he’d just woken up from a nap. Loki, not Sloan. Although, Sloan was rocking a pair of dark shadows under his eyes these days.
“How’s this little guy?” I touched the boy’s cheek, and he whined around his pacifier and clung to his daddy’s neck.
“He’s got the sniffles.” Sloan drew his fingers through Loki’s hair. All the kids had inherited Sloan’s dark-blond, coppery hair and grayish-blue eyes. Except for Emma-Jo; her hair was darker and full of corkscrew curls.
“You know what that means, buddy?” I poked Loki’s tummy gently. “Chicken soup, hot lemon water with honey, and all the ice cream you can eat.”
Loki blinked sleepily and pulled out his pacifier. “Ice cream for dinner?”
Selective hearing—I remembered that too. It would never go away. “After dinner.” I smiled faintly.
The boy made a face and put the pacifier back in his mouth. He was only allowed to have them at nighttime and when he was sick these days.
Sloan kissed his cheek. “You wanna jump over to Uncle Greer while I attach your seat?”
Loki nodded but didn’t really have a preference. I didn’t say no to stealing him from his old man, however. I positioned him on my hip and tugged playfully on his pacifier.