My urge to dick punch him is strong. But I have to keep rocking Avery, so I close my eyes and try to think soothing thoughts. After a few seconds, though, my eyes fly back open.
“You said you were going to work for a meeting tomorrow, or today, whatever. What were you going to do with her then?”
Another careless shrug. “My secretary will watch her.”
“Oh my god.” I close my eyes again, hoping the rocking will calm not just Avery, but me, too.
“What’s the big deal?” Harry asks. “I own the company. If watching my kid for a couple hours is what I need my secretary to do, she’ll do it.”
“I’ll stay here with her,” I offer. “She’s exhausted. You go get some sleep and…do whatever it is you need to do. I’ll take care of her until you’re done.”
“Really?”
“Of course. She’s a five-week-old baby, Harry, not a puppy. You can’t just tote her everywhere you go and pass her off on people. You don’t want her getting sick from all the germs.”
“Thanks,” he says, ignoring everything I just pointed out except my offer to help. “There’s a guest room at the end of the hallway you can stay in.”
Looking around at the shitload of baby things in his living room, I say, “Move the bassinet in there for Avery, will you?”
He gives me a blank look. “Sure. And the bassinet is which thing?”
“The big oblong thing, right there, with the white frilly lace all over it.” I say while pointing right at it.
He rolls his eyes but takes it into the bedroom, giving me a clear view of his flexing back muscles as he carries it.
Damn. Dirty Harry may be a complete asshole and a dipshit about babies, but he’s still got the hot body he had when his photo was taken for that poster. In fact, it’s even hotter now, with a scar several inches long snaking from his side around to his back.
After moving the bassinet, he comes back into the living room and looks at me expectantly. “You good?”
I nod.
“I’m gonna go pass out,” he says with a yawn, turning to walk back down the hall.
I don’t watch him go this time, because my gaze is locked on little Avery. She’s out cold, probably dreaming about a world where everyone knows what pacifiers are for. I’ve missed her perfect little face, and we weren’t even apart for twenty-four hours.
Though I think she’d sleep a few solid hours in the bassinet right now, I sit down in a cushy leather recliner in Harry’s living room and rock her.
Avery is back in my arms, and everything feels right again. Everything except the dickhead caveman down the hall, that is. I still despise Harry, but I find my mind thinking of how he looked in nothing but boxers.
He may be an asshole, but I have to secretly give him one thing: he’s a very hot one.
Chapter Seven
Harry
I pull my loosened tie off as I step off the elevator, trying to decide if I even feel like shoveling some food down before bed. I’m wiped out, but also starving.
My trip into the office for one meeting this morning turned into a full day at work after one of our attorneys told me I’m being sued.
My company is being sued, but since I own it, it’s the same difference to me as being sued personally. Sued for giving hiring priority to veterans because some douchebag who never served and didn’t get hired says I’m discriminating against non-vets.
I have a lot of thoughts on this bullshit lawsuit, and most of them starting with the word fuck. Even though my attorneys assure me this won’t hold up in court, I’m pissed. Money I spend defending the company against this nonsense is money I don’t get to reinvest in veterans.
I key in the code to my apartment door and open it quietly. If Avery is sleeping, the last thing I want to do is wake her up.
She’s not sleeping, though. As I walk inside, I see Winter sitting in a recliner, sweet-talking to my mesmerized baby girl while also rocking her back and forth.
Avery is wrapped up like a little burrito in a yellow blanket, her eyes wide and fixated on Winter’s face. I toss my keys on a table by the door and walk over to them, shedding my suit jacket and laying it over the back of the couch.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I ask Winter.
When she looks up from Avery’s face, her expression morphs from adoring and happy to…sad. She’s bummed I’m home, which makes me feel like shit.
“It’s been a great day,” she says softly. “I gave her a bath a few hours ago, and she ate about thirty minutes ago.”
“Sorry I’m so late. Stuff I wasn’t expecting came up at work.”
“It’s okay. I got to spend more time with her.”
For a woman who’s all sharp edges in my presence, Winter clearly has a strong bond with Avery. She’s softer around Avery. Beautiful, even. She’s one of those rare women who’s stunning just as she is—her light complexion free of makeup so I can see the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and her hair pulled up in a mess of curls.
When she rises from the chair, she holds Avery out to me. I take my swaddled daughter, who has the same effect on me as she does on Winter. I soften inside instantly.
She smells powder fresh. When she looks at me and coos in recognition, I forget how exhausted I am from last night.
“I made up some bottles for you,” Winter says. “They’re in the fridge and I left instructions on the counter for heating them.”
“Ok. Thanks,” I say, as a random question comes to mind. “How did you work?”
She furrows her brow and looks at me, confused.
“With Avery, I mean. How have you managed to work this whole time?”
“Oh.” She shrugs. “I haven’t. I haven’t worked for months, because Mallory needed me when she was sick. And then Avery needed me after she was born.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a hairstylist.”
“Hmm.”
She gives me a sardonic look. “Go ahead and say it. You’re thinking I’m just a poor peasant compared to the great and powerful Harry Stone.”
“No, I’m thinking that hairstylists probably have to be nice and personable.”
Winter scoffs. “You think I’m not nice? I’m very nice to anyone who’s not an asshole.”
I resist the urge to bite back. The more I find out, the more I get why Winter hates me. Ignoring her comment, I ask, “How did you pay your bills? Have you been relying on your savings all these months?”
Her expression shifts from angry to…defeated, and I realize I unintentionally struck a nerve.
“It’s been hard,” she admits. “I’m actually in the process of being evicted from my apartment.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
She glares at me. “I don’t want your glib apology. There are things you should be sorry for, but you don’t get it. Not at all.”
Avery makes a dissatisfied grunt, as if she feels the tension in the room, and I move her to rest against my chest like Winter showed me, so she can see over my shoulder.
“Look,” I say, “I’m not the evil bastard you think I am. Mallory and I had only been seeing each other for a couple months when she told me she thought she was pregnant. I told her I’d support her financially if—”