The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

“Really?” His eyes widen in excitement.

I shrug. “Sure, why not?”

Fletcher has grown on me. He’s not a bad kid after all. Smart and funny, like his mom.

He flashes me a broad smile and climbs into the passenger seat. I pull out of the parking lot with speed, and he smiles goofily through the windshield.

She better be home.

A long hour later we pull into his street. “Just up here on the left,” he says.

“I have been here before, remember?” I smirk.

He gives a subtle shake of his head, embarrassed.

My eyes flick over to him. “You know, I hate to admit it, but you impressed me that day.”

“Why would that impress you?”

I shrug. “I like the way you look after your mom.”

He smiles. “Yeah, well, she’s pretty amazing.”

She sure is.

I pull up out front and park the car. “I might just pop in to say hello to her—clear the air, so to speak?” I say. I think quickly on my feet. “We were angry with each other last time we saw one another in my office.”

He looks at me for a bit, as if carefully considering my request. “Yeah, okay, I suppose.”

We get out of the car and walk up to the house. I notice that there is no crap everywhere, unlike last time. The door opens in a rush, and Claire stands there, as if not realizing we were on the other side. She’s wearing a black dress, and her hair is up. She looks beautiful.

“Oh. Tristan.” Her face falls when she sees me, and she stares at me for a beat. “Hello,” she forces out.

“Hi.” I smile. Nerves dance in my stomach.

“What are you doing here?” she asks.

“I drove Fletch home.”

Her eyes flick between me and Fletcher. “Did you forget about tonight, Fletch?” she asks. She seems nervous.

“What?” he says.

“Remember?” Her eyes widen. “I’m going out, and you’re babysitting Patrick for me.”

“Oh,” Fletcher replies. “Yes, I did. With Paul from Pilates. Sorry I’m late.”

What?

“That’s me,” a voice says from behind us. We all turn to see some blond dude walking up the path toward the house. He’s all dressed up.

I stare at him as my brain misfires. Huh?

“Hello.” He smiles. “I’m Paul.”

“This is Tristan, Fletcher’s boss,” Claire interrupts before I get a chance to say something.

“Hello,” I bark. I shake his hand and then turn to Fletcher and widen my eyes.