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Jim laughed, “She’ll be happier that you showed up.”
“I’ll see you in a bit.”
We hung up at the same time, and I hurriedly put the thoughts of Nat Hoover out of my mind for approximately the hundred thousandth time over the last few years. I’d done it so often that it had practically become second nature. If I let the memories of her stay there as often as they entered, I’d never get anything done.
So, I hurried to think of other things, cracking my neck as I wrote my email to Wendy Lieden, barely hiding my identity as Mitchell and Associate’s attack dog.
Chapter Two
NAT
No matter how many Malibu sunsets I took in, the experience never seemed to get old. The colors blazing their way across the sky, the fresh, briny smell of the ocean, and the sound of the waves were somewhat diminished, however, by the sounds of seven young children and the single teenager running around the pool deck, screaming their heads off in delight. It wasn’t that I was explicitly opposed to the kids themselves, though. On the contrary, I truly loved them and enjoyed being around them much more than I thought I would.
Before Bree got together with Alex, my life had been entirely consumed by work, friends, and the sex that relieved the stress of my days way more than yoga—which my short-lived therapist had suggested I try—ever had. I suppose the yoga had been helpful, at least in part, but nothing could ever be as good for my mental health as a good old-fashioned, toe-curling orgasm.
So, one could easily understand that when I was around a horde of screaming children, I was less than zen. Still, the shrill sounds of some happy kids were worth it if I got to hang out with Bree, Alex, and the rest. I had to admit, I loved the bachelorette life, but I also loved the entertainment of being around healthy family relationships and watching them constantly blossom. It was lovely, but don’t get me wrong, I could only do these gatherings with children running around screaming in small doses. I loved them, but when my time was up, it was up, and I needed some peace and quiet.
A soft little groan from the warm, sleeping bundle in my arms got my attention, and I looked down at where little one-year-old Albert’s head was squirming around on my shoulder, making its way down to my chest in search of a snack.
I chuckled, bringing my hand up to rub my godson’s back. “Nothing there for you, buddy.”
He gave a little baby yowl and rubbed his forehead against my shoulder as he blinked his dark green eyes up at me.
“I know; damn shame, isn’t it?” I pressed a kiss to the soft skin of his forehead, closing my eyes as I basked his delicious baby smell. This was one kid I could see myself getting used to having around: him and his identical twin, Logan.
“What the hell are you telling my kid, Nat?”
I turned to face my best friend’s husband, whose smile matched mine, the expression lighting up his handsome face.
“Nothing not universally known and acknowledged,” I said, cuddling Albert closer. “I think this gorgeous kiddo is getting hungry. He’s been rootling around for something I definitely can’t give him.”
“Rootling?” He raised an eyebrow at me.
“Rootling,” I said.
“Is that even a word?”
“Of course it is,” I said. “It’s in the Oxford English Dictionary. That comes from your neck of the woods, right?”
He chuckled a little bit before reaching his arms out for his son, and I handed the baby over without an argument. I’d gotten used to holding Al’s soft baby weight against my hip, but he was getting heavy, and I felt an instant sense of relief as soon as he left my arms.
“C’mere, big guy,” Alex said, rubbing his hand over the back of his son’s head. “Let’s go see Mama and give Aunt Nat a break so she can find her main squeeze for the night.”
“What the fuck are you telling your kid, Alex?” I said, the corner of my mouth turning up in a curve as I acknowledged the truth of his statement. There certainly had been a part of me thinking about who I would be calling for a tryst later that night, but I had been doing my best to keep my thoughts pure in the vicinity of the baby.
He shrugged one shoulder as he bounced the baby in an effort to keep him calm. “Just trying to make sure he knows exactly who his Aunt Nat is.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”
His smile softened as he turned toward where Bree was sitting on one of the lounge chairs with Logan, the older of the twins. “Just making sure he loves his godmother for exactly who she is.”
I bit down on my lip, swallowing hard to keep from reacting to the emotions his words had brought up in me. I wasn’t given to big emotional displays—never had been. It was one of the reasons why I’d been able to make such an impact as one of the top women working in real estate in California. I had one of the best poker faces on the West Coast, honed through late-night poker games in basements at USC frats and the beautiful, cold house where I’d suffered through my childhood.
All this to say that I wasn’t here to make a big scene, ever. The only time I’d ever cried in public had been at Bree’s wedding when I positively lost my shit at how beautiful and happy she looked. The look on Alex’s face when he saw her was enough to melt even the iciest heart. It had been such a touching moment that I forgot about the boundary I’d set for myself and accidentally met Spencer’s eyes across the aisle. The swooping sensation in my stomach had taken me by surprise, but I don’t know why. After all, it wasn’t like Spencer Monroe and I had shared more than the typical superficial sexual exchange.
Actually, what I’d shared with him had been even less than usual since no one had ever, ever interrupted sex to get up and answer a phone call.
Looking across the beautiful, well-appointed pool on the deck of Bree and Alex’s Malibu house, I bit my lip in annoyance when my eyes landed on the dark-haired, dark-eyed man in the bespoke Zegna suit that would’ve set him back a good five thousand.
