I need to make up for that. And I have no kids, no family, and no reason that I can’t pull duty doing the hard work and sacrificing sleep.
Won’t be the first time. Won’t be the last.
“No comments on what they named their phones either?” Davis asks.
“Mine’s named Boris,” I lie. It’s actually the factory name, because I’m not creative at all with phone names.
And I swear Tripp’s grin means he knows it.
“Tripp, man, go get dressed.” Beck pops his head back inside the kitchen. “Sarah and I have your kids. You should get out before you go stir-crazy. Also, if the Fireballs suck next year because you never hired a team manager, I’m gonna kick your apples, and you know how much I hate having to kick your apples.”
Tripp studies Beck.
“Dude. You know we’ll call if either one of them start sneezing more. And Sarah has fever-radar. Plus, you know your mom’s gonna stop by seven times, and we can make Levi stay too. We got your back.”
“You don’t have to come to the office today,” I tell Tripp. “I already decided I’m hiring Pete Jackson.”
His reaction is exactly what I expect it to be to my news that I’m hiring the manager of the second-worst team in baseball who was also just fired.
“The hell you are,” he erupts.
“Oh, fuck, no,” Davis adds.
Beck’s just gaping, horrified, which actually makes me feel bad.
Of course I’m not hiring the second-worst manager in baseball. But I cross my arms and lift a brow anyway. “I’m sorry, are you all forgetting who’s the boss?”
Tripp’s shoulders go back. His nostrils flare. His eyes go hard.
He sucks in a breath—
And then he stops, his entire bearing going from I will end you to I’m onto you, and I’m only pissed that I didn’t see it sooner.
“You little devil,” he murmurs.
I’m smiling as I back toward the door. “Or possibly I’ll see if the third-worst manager in baseball is available. One hour, Mr. Wilson. I’ll see you in the office.”
And honestly?
I can’t wait.
24
Tripp
I want to go with Lila to the office, just like this, in sweatpants and without shaving, but I’m not so far gone that I let myself.
She’s a smart, adaptable force of nature who’s pushed through losing her parents to make a life for herself with the lips of an angel, eyes that hypnotize me every time, and secret depths in her heart.
She’s not the only woman I know who would’ve charged my deck last night to save me from danger, but the rest of them have been my family for a long, long time.
And I haven’t wanted to strip any of the rest of them naked at the first available opportunity.
I smile through getting James and Emma packed up for a day of fun at Uncle Beck’s place—you’re damn right I’m having the security company in here to figure out how Lila’s Uncle Guido got past the video cameras in the first place, and I want my kids somewhere else while I’m having some upgrades added—and hint in a roundabout way to Davis that if he happens to have any connections at any level of the government, that I’d appreciate one of them getting in touch with me.
He stares at me blankly like he has no clue why I’d think he has connections to ask questions of government operatives.
“Denver?” I mutter to him.
I get a rare Davis grin. “You’re still making mountains out of molehills there.”
“Yeah, singing for your dinner in prison would’ve been molehills.”
Don’t ask what happened in Denver. Let’s just say it was the beginning of the end of our touring days, and we’re lucky we got to finish our final tour with all five of us on stage.
“You investigating Lila?” he asks.
“Nope.”
His eyes flicker, and I growl.
He’s already asked around about Lila, and I know he knows things he’s not telling me, and I frankly don’t give two shits.
I trust her.
“Dude, if she makes you happy, she makes you happy.” He holds up his hands. “That’s what’s important. End of story.”
He disappears to get back to work at his place south of the city, and I have to acknowledge that Lila really did have a point last night.
Davis might work for a secret government agency for all I know. I’m not unintelligent, and I still don’t understand what he supposedly does for the nuclear reactor down in Corieville.
Levi sticks around to help me pick up all the toys I dumped under the windows and in front of the doors before bedtime last night. “You’ve got issues,” he tells me.
He’s not wrong.
“But I’m glad you got laid,” he adds. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
So does punching him in the arm and telling him to watch his mouth, even if he’s still grinning when he leaves too.
I get to Fireballs headquarters thirty minutes later than I wanted to. I drop my suit jacket in my office, which still has the cup of coffee I was drinking when Emma sneezed last week sitting on my desk, and head directly upstairs.
“Morning, Mr. Wilson,” Denise says with a bright smile. “Ms. Valentine’s waiting for you for a conference call.”
And there goes my smile even bigger.
I stroll into the office and freeze.
The orange couch is gone. So is the massive desk. And the carpet. The windows are freshly cleaned. There are two new bookshelves, two new sitting chairs, a red and gold rug over the exposed hardwood, a filing cabinet, and a new desk that looks more like a table, but has a computer monitor mounted on the edge, and there’s a pink yoga ball beneath it.
Lila’s on her tiptoes, pushing a book onto the top shelf. Her calf muscles are straining over her stilettos, her black pencil skirt is hugging her curves and that sweet ass, and all her curly red hair is tumbling down her back and covering her white blouse.
My cock’s instantly at full mast, which won’t help with getting any work done today, but I can’t control my body’s reaction to her.
Not today.
Not the first time we met.
Not even the moment I knew I’d just thrown away my dream by lying to her about who I was.
Not last night.
Probably not ever.
And it’s not just what’s on the outside.
It’s that spark of life, and knowing just how much she’s overcome to keep it.
“Need help?” My voice comes out huskier than I mean it to, and when she drops back to the ground and casts a glance back at me, a smile pulling her lips up at the corners, I know I’m done for.
“Got it. Your kids okay?”
“Yeah. I think they’ll like the break from me. And Davis was right, as usual, which is annoying, but we deal with it. Especially if it gets me a nanny.”
It’s like watching a book close when I mention Davis.
Not surprising. He gave her the Man Bun look. “Listen, about Davis—”
“He’s very protective.”
“We all are. Comes with fame. Doesn’t go away after you leave the limelight. But he won’t dig.”
“Anymore?”