Mother Fluffer (Billionaire Bad Boys 3.6)

Tears threatened. I want to keep all of them forever. STAAANN.

“No, no. Not at all. And take your time. I’ll bring them to dinner with me, no problem.”

“Wow. Thanks, Thatch!”

She didn’t know what I knew, but in reality, she was thanking me for losing man’s best friend. Fuck me sideways, I was an asshole.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.” I nearly choked on the words.

“But I kind of miss their sweet faces. Do you think you could let me FaceTime with them real quick?”

“FaceTime?” I asked, trying to tamp down the panic.

“Yeah. I’ll call you back right now.”

“Wait! Uh…Georgia?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve actually got my hands full. Maybe you can just hop on the phone and say hello? Evie’s right here.”

“Evie can’t actually speak, Thatch.”

“Really?” I teased. “Then who have I been having an in-depth conversation with about The Carbonaro Effect?”

“I’m guessing yourself.”

“Oh, well. I guess she can’t say hi then. Julia’s here, though. You want to say hi to her while I’ve got you on the phone?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, hold on a sec.”

I covered the microphone and got down close to Julia. “Hey, sweetie. Your mommy wants to talk to you.”

“Yay!” she squeaked, reaching for the phone. I pulled it away slightly.

“But let’s not say anything about playing hide-and-seek for Stan, okay?” I whispered.

Her tiny eyebrows squished together, but Ace nodded his support, saying, “Yeah, we don’t say anything to Daddio or your mommy.”

“Don’t say anything to Daddio?” I muttered as Julia snagged the phone from my hand. “Ace, what did you say?”

His eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Ace, if you know something about where Stan is, you have to tell me,” I whispered so my voice wouldn’t carry over the phone.

He shook his head, but his eyes did the crazy crossing thing they did when he was lying. He’d mastered the game pretty well, but when faced with a direct question, he almost always broke.

“Ace, tell Daddy what you know. This is very serious.”

“Mommy! Can we get another dog?” Julia asked. “Cause Stan’s—”

I reached out and snagged the phone, putting it back to my ear while I covered Julia’s mouth. “Oh, shoot, G. She took off. You know kids, running away mid-sentence.”

“Lia!” Ace yelled. “Fuck!”

Oh, shit.

“Did he just say fuck?” I heard in the background, in what I could have sworn was my wife’s voice. My wife, who was supposedly still at work.

Something was smelling fishier and fishier by the motherfluffing minute.

“Is Cassie there?” I asked outright.

“Uh…no,” Georgia mumbled. So, basically, yes.

Mm-hmm. Just as I suspected.

“Did she get off of work early?”

Georgia giggled nervously. “She’s not here, Thatch.”

Cassie not at work, Georgia calling and asking prying questions—also not at work—and a fucking tractor-trailer-size dog vanishing, from the bedside of the baby he loves, without a trace.

My eyes narrowed. I had a feeling I wasn’t the villain I thought I was in this scenario, but I wouldn’t rest until I was sure.

“Okay. I must be imagining her,” I excused. “I just miss her when she works on weekends.”

“Aww,” Georgia mooned. “That’s…God, that’s so sweet.”

There. She was sufficiently buttered and ready to motherfluffing crack. Now I just had to leave her hanging.

“It is, isn’t it? Anyway, tell my wife I love her.”

“Thatch, Cassie isn’t—”

“Talk soon, Georgie. Buh-bye now.”

“Do you think he knows?” Georgia asked, and I shrugged.

“Probably not.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure. My husband had a knack for sniffing out a prank. It was a skill he’d honed after years of setting up his own entertaining schemes—a mutual interest that actually brought us together in the first place.

And if I were him, yeah, I’d probably know something was up. A dog that was bigger than most teenage boys didn’t just up and disappear. Plus, my best friend, although I love her dearly, sucked goat cheese at lying. She’d basically given Thatch all of the clues in a few simple words.

“This is starting to stress me out.” She scrubbed a hand down her panicked face. “How in the hell do you guys manage to keep these going for more than a day?”

“Just relax,” I reassured. “Enjoy our day of shopping, and I’ll give Thatch a quick call to get the lay of the land.”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket and hit Call on Thatch’s name. As I held my phone up to my ear and listened to the first unanswered ring, I glanced outside the store window of Bella’s to make sure Georgia’s horse hadn’t moved from his spot just outside the entrance.

“Is he answering?” she asked while she perused a rack of vintage dresses. “I’m starting to feel a little bad. I mean—”

“No,” I cut her off as the third unanswered ring filled my ear. “Put those sad little doe eyes away, Bambi. This is just a simple little prank. Not homicide.”

She flashed a pointed look in my direction. “Technically, it’s dognapping.”

“Borrowing,” I corrected.

“Stealing,” she retorted. “A dog. My dog, for that matter.”

“Meh. Tomayto tomahto.”

She shook her head on a laugh. “It’s kind of an evil prank, Cass.”

“It’s not that evil,” I scoffed and nodded toward Stan outside the window. “Stan is having the time of his life. It’s not like I’ve got him locked up inside a kennel. If anything, we did your horse a favor, Georgie. He’s enjoying some alone time without his feline lover demanding every second of his attention.”

Georgia looked at Stan and then back at me. “I bet Walter is losing his shit right now.”

I laughed.

“Poor Thatch,” she added.

“No,” I retorted. “Not poor Thatch. Have you forgotten the fact that he thinks your dog is missing and he didn’t even call you? Nor did he tell you when you called him?”

“Ugh. True. He’s definitely blacklisted from all future pet sitting opportunities.” Her voice dropped to a level of self-reflection. “Though, I will say he sounded pretty sweet with the kids.”

“Jesus. He’s not answering.” I hit End on the call before it went to voice mail and fired off a quick text to my husband, who I assumed, was currently looking for Stan, and quite possibly, trying to avoid the wrath of Satan’s claws.

Me: Call me back, T-bag. I want to chat with Ace.

Thatch: I’m a little busy here, Cass.

Me: Oh c’mon. You’re not that busy. Three kids and two pets isn’t that hard to manage.

Thatch: What do you mean, two pets?

Oh, fuck. How did I fudge that up?

I might as well have let Georgia send these texts.

God, it was safe to say that I officially had pregnancy brain.

Me: Philmore doesn’t count. When he’s not getting fed, he’s usually sleeping on his bed. And since it’s not meal time, I know it’s his nap time.

And from the looks of, it was also Stan the Man’s nap time. The proof lay outside the store with his leash hooked to a pole and his big, sleepy doggy face resting on his paws.

Thatch: Of course he’s sleeping. But still, I feel like I’m running a day care over here. It’s hard work, Cass.

Pfffft. Yeah. Hard work to find a missing dog…

Me: Can I talk to Ace?

Thatch: Nope. He’s busy.

Me: Busy? He’s 4. What in the hello is he busy with?

Thatch: You know how he is. He’s a busy guy. Places to run. Shit to destroy. His schedule is jam-packed, honey. I’ll let him know you called, though.

Before I could respond, he followed that up with another text message.

Thatch: Will you ask Georgia if Julia can have chocolate milk?

Just play it off, Cass.

Me: Are you wanting me to call her? Why can’t you just call her?

Holy sneakers. No. Unless I wanted to blow the lid off this Popsicle stand, I couldn’t allow any more phone conversations with Wheorgie.

Me: Jesus. Hold on. I’ll call her. It should be noted here that I’m actually working, and you’re just sitting at home playing with kids and pets all day.

Thatch: Thanks, honey. I’m sure you’ll have no issues getting ahold of her.

Fuck, he knows. I needed to play this off at an expert level or else the prank would be dunzo.

Me: She’s not answering. I sent her a text. I’ll let you know if she gets back to me. Quick, send me a Bambi pose before I have to get back on set.

Thatch: I’m watching kids and pets, Crazy. I don’t have time to Bambi pose for you.

Me: Liar. I know you have at least 4 new ones saved on your phone.

Thatch: If I get through this day, I’ll pose for you while you take live shots tonight.

Me: With the Supercock out.

Thatch: Deal.

“Can Julia have chocolate milk?” I asked, and Georgia looked at me over the vintage black leather Prada purse in her hands.