Mother Fluffer (Billionaire Bad Boys 3.6)
Thirty minutes of searching my house from top to bottom, and I was starting to panic. Where the fuck was this dog?
Like, did he have superpowers I didn’t know about or something? I’d be having a detailed talk with Kline and Georgia about his abilities once I found him. Of course, I’d never actually mention any of this hellish time when he was missing to them. I’d just have to bring it up real casual-like.
But now, in the present, after looking through all of the fluffing kitchen cabinets, I was starting to run out of ideas. The only thing keeping me from losing my shit was that I knew he couldn’t turn the lock on the door, pull it open, close it behind himself, and relock it with a key.
It just wasn’t possible. Right?
“Hello?”
Oh, thank fuck. Wes answered. He wouldn’t know what to do—he was just as much of a screw-up as I was on most days—but he knew someone who would. Someone whose intelligence far exceeded that of all of those around her. Lexi Winslow, his ten-year-old stepdaughter.
Act natural, my frantic mind coached. Say something insulting.
“Hey, Prissy Bitch—”
Oh God. Too far, too far.
“I mean…hey, Whitney. What’s up?”
“You called me, Thatch.”
“Right, yeah, of course. Is…uh…Lexi there by any chance?” She didn’t always go to work with him, but on a Sunday, with Winnie having to work too, I had a fair fucking shot.
“Yeah…right next to me. Why?” Suspicion dripped like sticky syrup from his voice, but I pushed forward. This was too important to spend time dealing with Wes’s silly suspicions. I mean, what did he think? That I’d done something stupid? Always jumping to conclusions, that fucker.
You did lose a hundred-and-fifty-pound dog in a completely contained house, my mind reminded me.
Shit. Shut up.
“Can I speak with her?”
“Thatch, why do you want to talk to my daughter?”
“I just have a question for her. You know how fucking smart she is. I’m sure she’ll know the answer.” It was mostly the truth. That was the reason I was calling. The problem was just a little different than some form of advanced calculus dilemma.
Begrudgingly, he agreed. But I could tell he was questioning why the fuck we were friends in the first place. “Okay, fine. Here she is.”
“Hello?”
“Hey, Lex. How’s it hanging?”
“How’s what hanging?”
Lexi, one of the coolest people I’d ever met in my life, was considered high-functioning on the autism spectrum. She saw life in facts and figures, and she did it better than anyone I’d ever encountered. Still, opening with slang wasn’t going to help our communication.
“Right, sorry…I mean, how are you?”
“I’m fine. What’s your question?”
Right. In other words, enough bullshit. And she was probably right. I did have a goddamn dog to find. Kline’s statement rang loud in my head. He tears apart the house if I leave him alone without Evie.
But, fuck. I really didn’t want them to know that Stan was missing, so I’d have to skirt the subject.
“Hypothetically and statistically speaking, do you know where, say, a missing baby would most likely be in a house?”
“Statistically, most missing babies are with kidnappers. Whose baby is with a kidnapper?”
“Shh. Jesus. No. It’s not a—”
No. NO. God. Not a baby. I still had the baby. It’d be really fucking awful if I’d lost the baby. On impulse, I ran toward the nursery with the phone pressed to my hot ear just to double-check.
“Jesus’s baby is with a kidnapper?” she interrupted before I could clarify.
“No, fuu—dge. God. Shi—sh.”
“Jesus himself is with a kidnapper? That’s impossible.”
“No, Lexi, listen—”
“You’ve got Wes. What the fuck is going on?”
Fuuuuck.
“Nothing.”
“Thatcher Kelly. What in the fuck is going on?”
“Goddamn. You’ve gotten good at being a father, you know that?”
“Thatch!”
“Okay, Jesus. I kind of, sort of lost Stan.”
“You what?”
“Ow, fuck. You just burst my eardrum!”
“You lost Kline’s child! I think that’s worse!”
“I didn’t lose his kid! I lost his dog.”
“Oh…shit. Sorry, I heard baby. But the dog thing is bad too. Georgia’s gonna flip her shit. Remember when you lost Walter while they were on their honeymoon?”
“I didn’t lose Walter,” I protested, plucking a now awake Evie from her crib, holding her tight to my chest, and making a conscious effort to soften my voice. “Crazy Cassie did.”
“Same thing,” he hedged.
“It’s not!”
“Whatever. It’s definitely you who lost the dog.”
“The house is locked, man. Nothing’s been touched. He’s gotta be in here somewhere. I just can’t find him. We’ve gotta be just missing each other or something.”
“Missing each other? Like he’s just in constant motion?” he asked with a laugh, and I imagined choking him.
“I don’t know! But he’s got to be in here.”
“Did you call Kline?”
“No,” I rejected. “He’s busy. I don’t think I should bother him until I have to.”
“Well…I guess you better start making flyers.”
“To post inside my house? Julia and Ace already know he’s missing, thank you very much. They’re on the hunt.”
“Julia and Ace.” He laughed. “I guess at least you didn’t lose them.”
The line clicked dead, and I pulled the phone away from my ear slowly.
Good Christ, thanks for nothing, asshole.
Ten minutes into our lunch and Stan appeared content by his dog mommy’s side. His giant head rested on Georgia’s lap while his eyes never lost focus of our food. Beef jerky or not, I had a feeling Stan the Man was probably getting a little hungry.
“Here, buddy,” I whispered and held out a piece of my chicken salad croissant. Stan lifted his head off of Georgia’s thigh and opened wide, smacking his jowls together in absolute delight once the creamy goodness touched his giant tongue.
“Stop. Feeding. My. Dog,” Georgia admonished, and I just smiled.
“I think he’s hungry.”
“He’s always hungry.”
“You think we should get him a cheeseburger or something?” I asked and glanced around the terrace for our waiter.
“For the love of God, no. He didn’t need beef jerky earlier, and he definitely doesn’t need a cheeseburger now.”
“He’s not a fan of burgers?”
Georgia snorted. “Uh…he’s never had one.”
“Really?” I asked in surprise. Philmore ate cheeseburgers all the time. Hell, he was even really fluffing picky about it. If we’d tried to hand him one without pickles and ketchup, he’d outright squeal his refusal.
Don’t worry, we’ve never given him bacon cheeseburgers.
Morals, remember?
“What exactly do you feed your pig?”
I shrugged. “He usually eats whatever we’re eating.”
“Pigs, and most animals for that matter, aren’t supposed to eat people food, Cass.”
I scoffed. “Says who?”
“Uh…Veterinarians.”
“Meh.” I waved her off with my free hand. “Half the time we just take Philmore to The Little Clinic up the street for his checkups.”
“Isn’t that a pediatric urgent care?”
“Yep.” I took a bite of my food and nodded. “Talk about convenient if Ace needs a checkup, too.”
“Good Lord, isn’t that illegal?”
“No,” I refuted. “I’m pretty sure Nancy would have told us that.”
“Who the fluff is Nancy?”
“Philmore’s nurse practitioner.”
Georgia sighed. “Sometimes, I wonder how you and Thatch manage to talk people into doing sh—stuff like that.”
“It’s all Thatcher.” I grinned. “He’s very lovable. Like a giant toddler inside of a sexy-as-fluff body.”
She laughed and shook her head. “One day, I swear to God, I won’t be surprised by some of the things that come out of your mouth.”
Before I could offer a retort, her phone buzzed across the table. We both glanced down to find Wes calling flashing across the screen.
“Jesus.” She looked up at me with annoyance in her eyes.
“Just play it cool,” I instructed and took a quick sip of water. “He’s probably not even calling about work.”
When the third ring vibrated her phone, signaling she wouldn’t be able to put off answering the call much longer, she groaned audibly. “Fine, but I’m putting it on speaker just in case you need to take over and tell him you made me leave work early,” she said and finally accepted the call.
“Hey, Wes,” Georgia greeted with nervousness more than apparent in her voice.
Her sweet innocence just wasn’t built for subterfuge.
“Listen, Georgia, I tried to call Kline, but it went straight to voice mail. I just got off the phone with Thatch, and I don’t want you to panic, but it’s very possible that Stan is missing…” Wes paused, and Georgia’s eyes went wide in confusion. And then she looked at me.