Pompous Player (Cocky Hero Club)

I shake my head, eyes narrowed in disdain. He just shrugs and looks over at Avery, who is sleeping peacefully in a bouncy seat in the breakfast nook.

“Quiet night for you guys?”

I rub my brow, fighting the urge to yell at him. “Not exactly, no. You didn’t hear her screaming at one this morning? It only lasted about two hours.” I can’t quell the sarcasm in my tone.

He shakes his head and takes another sip of coffee. “My bedroom’s soundproof.”

“Soundproof?”

His lips turn up in a grin. “Not because of crying babies.”

“Ugh.” I cringe. “Gross. Just…you’re disgusting.”

“Hey, nothing wrong with being a considerate neighbor.” He opens the stainless steel refrigerator, which is about six feet wide. “I’m gonna make some breakfast. If you want me to keep an eye on Avery while you shower, it’s no problem.”

I roll my eyes. “Really? You’ll keep an eye on a sleeping baby for me? You’re a real giver, Harry.”

He pointedly looks at the coffee maker. “Might be a good time to pour a cup, sunshine.”

I follow his gaze to the coffee maker, conflicted. I don’t want him to think I’m getting a cup because he suggested it, but I really want—no, I need—some coffee.

“Have you thought about my offer?” he asks, leaning back against the kitchen counter so I get the full view of his naked, inked chest—again.

“Your offer?” I ask as I walk over to the coffeepot.

“Money. To help offset everything you’ve done for Avery.”

I shake my head as I pour my coffee into one of Harry’s dozen or so plain gray mugs. “I don’t want your money.”

“You’d rather get evicted?”

“That’s not for you to worry about.”

I can’t help moaning as I take my first sip of coffee. It tastes divine—far better than the cheap stuff I’m used to. It’s both strong and mild at the same time.

“Well, what’s your plan, then?”

Giving him a pointed look, I say, “Not that I owe you any explanations, but I’m planning to take Avery over to my place today and pack my stuff. I’ll ask the owner of the salon I work at if I can store it in her back room.”

Harry nods, brows arched. “And then?”

I shrug. “We’ll see.”

“So you have a ride to your apartment, and a truck lined up to move all your stuff?” His skeptical tone grates on my nerves.

“You already know I’m broke. Why does making me admit it over and over give you so much satisfaction?”

“I’m getting no satisfaction out of this conversation. You’re just being your usual headstrong self, refusing to accept help even though you need it.”

I shrug. “I’d take help. Just not from you.”

“Right,” he says, chuckling without humor. “Because I’m the villain in your story.”

“You’re probably the villain in the stories of most women you meet, Harry.”

He sighs softly, then focuses his gaze on me. “I’ve been thinking since we talked last night. You’re right about Avery being better off with someone who loves her instead of a paid nanny.”

My heart stutters as I listen to him. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“You can move in here,” he continues. “Live here rent-free as long as you need to, and help me take care of Avery.”

My lips part with surprise. “Live here? With you?”

“Yep. It’s a big enough apartment that I think we can avoid killing each other.”

“But you’re…”

He cracks a smile, apparently amused by my reaction. “Believe it or not, Winter, most people like me. I’m not a bad guy. You’re the only person I’ve ever met who hates me.”

I snort with derision. “Yeah, I’m just the only person who’s ever told you I hate you.”

He shakes his head, his expression serious. “I’m not a perfect man; I’ll be the first to admit that. But I am an honest man. I’m completely upfront with every woman I get involved with. I let them know I’m not looking for anything serious. I tell them it won’t be an exclusive relationship.”

“So you’re an honorable manwhore, then.”

“There are women out there who want the same thing I do. There’s nothing wrong with casual sex if you’re honest about it.”

“And then when women develop feelings for you, not that I can see how any woman in her right mind would, you end it. And you call yourself a good guy.”

Harry’s hands are braced on the kitchen counter, and even though I despise him, I can’t help drooling over his muscled forearms. I can see how women fall for his looks and end up heartbroken.

“This isn’t about you and me liking each other,” he says. “I’m pretty sure that’ll never happen. This is about Avery. Like it or not, I’m her father.”

“Not,” I respond, giving him a death glare.

He ignores my jab, saying, “You can take one of my vehicles over to your apartment to pack up your things. I’ll send some guys over to move them into the storage space I have in the basement of this building.”