Wrong Bed Baby (Crescent Cove 10)

The dress was sea blue too. Or hmm, was that more of a blue-green? I never did get why women had so many colors for things.

Look at my closet. I had black and navy suits. More navy than black because it was less severe for court. My tie collection was more colorful, but I certainly didn’t know the names for the damn shades. Who had time for all that nonsense?

Not me. I didn’t even have time to complete the work on my plate. I also didn’t have time to further engage in this conversation.

April was still blathering on about mud masks and self-care and did I realize how long it had been since she’d even slept in?

No, I could honestly say I didn’t.

“What exactly does that mean? I rise every day at precisely four.”

She stopped mid-tirade and stared. “You what—why?” She tapped a glossy pale nail against her mouth. “Actually, that’s better than I assumed. Rising means you sleep.”

“Not necessarily,” I said under my breath.

That certainly wasn’t the case this month. My father was on the verge of retirement, which meant we would be looking to hire a new partner soon, and my brother and I were overloaded with work. Well, I was overloaded. Dex was strictly a nine-to-fiver—sometimes a ten-to-twoer if the water looked good. In the winter, he was all about the slopes.

I wasn’t just talking about skiing. He made j

ust as good use of the lodge as he did the hills. The guy dated more women in a year than I had in my entire life.

I was too busy working. And that was when I’d had an assistant.

Dear God, how was I going to get through a week without April? She kept my life running smoothly. Or at least it was less bumpy than it could’ve been without her.

“You remind me to eat,” I said accusingly.

She frowned. “No, I don’t. You just saw me with a donut or a sandwich a few times.”

“Right, but seeing you with food reminds me I haven’t eaten.”

“Sir, your growling stomach should do that without my help.”

As if I paid attention to such physical cues.

I would soon find out exactly how good I’d had it before.

Before vacations.

Before retirements.

Before I’d succumbed to a life of no meals and no sleep.

I grunted. “This is not enough notice. How am I supposed to hire a temp in,” I consulted my Apple watch, “six days, eighteen hours and eleven minutes?”

“I know it’s short notice.”

“Short? Try miniscule.”

“But I have the perfect solution.”

My shoulders unknotted for the first time since she’d walked into my office. “You’ve decided to cancel?”

April scowled. Until today, I’d never seen anything but a serene, unruffled expression on my assistant’s face. That was one reason I appreciated her so much. She wasn’t prone to mood swings.

Mood swings were a good part of why I was single. My mother had enough of them to change the weather from across town.

I didn’t need any additional stress in my life. The calmer a woman was, the better. That went for men too, although that was a different dynamic because I didn’t get naked with them.