Page 13 of Hart Breaker

I expel a slow, exaggerated breath and say, “I’m not sure if the girl bossesess will let you?—”

“I try.” She pouts out her lip, and my fucking chest tightens. “You stay.”

“Yeah.”

She snuggles into my side like she was with Boone, and it feels … amazing. Like a hug from Mom after winning a game. Except, in this case, I’m the adult, and she’s lost the game, the game being Lovey, but whatever. Overthinking. It’s fucking cool … until a realization hits and it’s not so cool after all.

I decide immediately to go a little easier on Boone. It’s gotta suck to have moments like this and then not get them until the ex decides to let you have your kid for a couple of days so she can do whatever it is that rich southern moms do for self-care.

“You decide on a name yet?” I ask.

“Nuh-uh.”

“I bet you’ll think of one in your sleep,” I assure her. “That’s where the best names come from.”

She accepts my BS with a nod.

“Ya gots to close your eyes.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice.

Within minutes, she’s out, and that’s when I feel eyes on me and pop one of mine open.

Boone is standing in the doorway, towel slung around his waist, and nods behind him.

I shake my head and whisper, “Not leaving. Too comfy.”

“Did he just say comfy?” comes a voice, and not just a female voice, but one I swear I recognize.

I narrow my eyes at him in a question. There is no way I will put words to said question, and I really fucking hope he doesn’t read minds.

An arm reaches around him, and Lovey emerges from the hand, whose fingertips are perfectly manicured and pale pink. Sydney found Lovey and brought it to my house.

In a low warning, Boone instructs, “Say nothing. Slide out carefully.” His voice lowers an octave. “Do it without moving.”

How the fuck does one not move when they’re actually moving?

“Army crawl your big ass across the floor. There are ladies in the Hart home that you don’t share DNA with you, and we owe them a drink.”

“Are you going to put on some clothes?” Another and even more familiar voice asks. Riley.

I don’t army crawl, but I do crouch, and I manage to make it out unscathed without waking Lily.

The three of them walk down the hall toward the stairs, and I follow behind them. Boone ducks into the bathroom, hopefully to put on some pants.

“Be down in a minute,” he says.

At the bottom of the curved stairs, they look back for direction, and I nod left.

“Your kitchen is …” Sydney shakes her head and looks to be at a loss for words.

“Pretty cool,” I say, trying to play that very temperature. This place is a fucking palace compared to anything I’ve ever lived in. But these girls have grown up amongst billionaires, football players, and rockstars; I’m damn sure I see it differently than they do.

“Pretty cool is an understatement. It’s?—”

“Sexy,” comes from behind us as Boone enters the room, pulling his shirt over his head.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever walked into a kitchen, even one this impressive, and thought, Dang, that’s one sexy stove.” Sydney giggles.

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