Pompous Player (Cocky Hero Club)

I want to refuse his offer, but good sense wins out. I don’t have any other options. Aubrey is the only family I have left. She’s a blissful newlywed and I don’t want to trouble her with how dire my finances are. I’ve sold almost everything I have. And Harry’s offer would allow me to live with Avery, which I desperately want. This isn’t how I imagined it, but…it’s all I’ve got.

“I’m not going to be your live-in maid,” I say, crossing my arms.

“I’ve got a housekeeper who comes every week to clean.”

“You’ll have to do your part with Avery. I need to be able to work so I can get back on my feet financially.”

He nods. “I will.”

“It’s not all fun and games, either. You may have to give up trips to the gym or late nights at work. You might even have to cut back on manwhoring.”

He feigns a wounded look. “Anything but that.”

“You’ll have to take your strippers to hotels or something. I don’t want them around Avery.”

“Agreed. About having women around Avery, I mean. None of the women I’ve dated are strippers, at least not to my knowledge.”

“Please.” I give him a dirty look. “Like you bother asking them what they do for a living.”

Harry finishes his mug of coffee and looks at the clock on the wall.

“Not that I’m not enjoying this warm conversation, but I need to get dressed and get into the office.” He points at the pantry. “Keys to all the cars are on a rack in there. The car seat will probably fit best in the Yukon, so I’ll leave it for you and take the Tesla today.”

“Your sacrifice is noted,” I reply, deadpan.

“I’ll text you the information when I set up movers,” he says on his way out of the kitchen. He calls over his shoulder, “And you’re welcome.”

I exhale deeply and take a drink from my mug. If I have to live with Harry, at least this amazing coffee is part of the deal.

And Avery. I look over at the sleeping angel in the bouncy seat, grateful for more time with her.

A week ago, I would’ve sooner pushed Harry off a cliff than live with him. But everything is different now. I need to swallow my pride and make this work, at least until I can afford a place of my own again.

“See you tonight,” he calls out a few minutes later, grabbing a set of keys from the pantry.

He looks really good in his gray suit and pressed white dress shirt, his red tie knotted perfectly around his neck. And he smells even better. My nipples tingle as I take in his woodsy, fresh scent.

My attraction to him is revolting. Shameful. It doesn’t come from my mind, just my desperate, traitorous body, but still…I’d die if he knew.

I check to make sure he locked the door—he did—and then I walk down the hallway to his bedroom, making my way into his bathroom to see if I can catch another whiff of his cologne.

The heavy glass bottle of cologne is on his bathroom counter, and I pick it up and put the applicator to my nose. It smells good, but somehow, not quite as delicious as it did on him.

That knowledge frustrates me. To make up for it, I grab Harry’s toothbrush from its holder and dip the bristled tip into the water in his toilet, then put it back in the holder.

With a smile at my haggard reflection in the mirror, I head to the kitchen to get Avery.

Maybe living with Harry won’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Nine

Harry

A loud wail wakes me up from a deep sleep. I usually sleep on my stomach, so I push up onto my elbows and look over to see all the lights on the baby monitor flashing.

With a grunt, I get up and walk across the hall to Avery’s room. It’s eight thirty-five in the morning on Saturday, according to my watch. Without the device on my wrist, I’d never know what day it is anymore. I just work, take care of Avery, and sleep when it’s Winter’s turn.

I get the occasional nap when it’s my turn to take care of Avery—I sleep when she sleeps—but it’s not much. Between diaper changes, feedings and needing to be rocked to sleep, my daughter keeps me on my toes all the time.

“Hey, little lady,” I say, picking her up from her crib and groaning when I see the wet spot on her pajamas. “Again? You peed through two since last night. What gives?”

I put her on the changing table that was delivered yesterday and go through the process of cleaning her, and putting on a new diaper and a new set of jammies. I’m getting better and faster at changing her.

“At least there’s no poop,” I tell her as she kicks her legs and waves her arms. “Save that for this afternoon. Winter loves poopy diapers. Daddy, not so much.”