Claim My Baby (Crescent Cove 2)

This particular contract had nothing to do with Vegas, but she didn’t need to know that. Distraction and subterfuge were nine-tenths of the law.

“You’re intruding on my vacation, you can at least have happy vacay vibes.”

“Not so much, since according to you, I can’t even have sex.”

I didn’t know why I’d said that. I didn’t want to have sex. Unless she was up for—

Nope. I was shutting down that line of thought this instant.

My happy vacay vibes were evidently residing in my pants, and I wasn’t about to give them carte blanche.

Sage narrowed her eyes. “You said this trip—a very short, two-day trip, I might add—was for you to combine business and being a friend to me. Unless that was Hamilton spiel and you’re really here to make sure I have no fun while you have every naked kind you can fathom. If so, don’t you think that’s taking our frenemy thing a little too far?”

I

set down my tablet, more amused than annoyed at being interrupted. Maybe it was the warm Nevada air working wonders on my mood, because I never felt so benevolent toward her when we were back home.

Then again, she’d never spent half a plane ride almost in my lap either.

“Is that a word they use in the tabloids? Frenemy? Next, are you going to say stop trying to make fetch happen?”

Sage gaped at me. “You’ve seen Mean Girls?”

“I do know my pop culture references.”

“Yet you didn’t know frenemy?” She went back to texting. “Probably watched it with some chick you were trying to bed.”

“Actually, no, I saw it with Laurie.”

“She’s four. Mean Girls is too advanced for her.”

“And three-fourths.” She gave me serious side eye. “She’s got a case of hero-worship for that Amanda person. The one who dressed as a mouse. Anyway, I didn’t turn it on for her. She got control of the remote and had watched half of it before I realized what she was watching because I was buried in work. I heard that fetch nonsense before I turned it off.”

“You can’t let children ever control the remote. It’s not safe.”

“Yes, well, that page of my parenting manual was torn out before I got it. Also, in case you didn’t notice,” I sketched a finger over my face, “not a parent.”

She made an indignant sound. “Some things you just know.”

“Perhaps if I’d spent years practicing for my future family with my Wetsy doll and Easy-Bake Oven as you have all your life, then yes, I would.”

Her face seemed to crumple for a moment, the brightness in her eyes fading before she lowered her head and returned her attention to her screen. Effectively blocking me out.

Just as I deserved.

Asshole.

Being rude to her was like kicking a puppy. Banter was one thing. But it was far too easy for us to cross that line.

Just as we’d nearly crossed another line earlier, when she’d been nestled against me. Or perhaps the almost-line-crossing had all been on my side, since she’d managed to keep her wits about her just fine.

“You’re headed to the Golden Apple?” the Uber driver confirmed.

“Yes,” I answered when Sage remained mute. She still wasn’t happy I’d upgraded her room.

Stubborn woman.

“Not rooming together, I hope. Because you two are a Dr. Phil episode waiting to happen.” The driver chuckled at his own joke.