Page 6 of The Billionaire Experience

“Like you need a woman in your life,” he muttered as she drove away. He needed a woman like…well, like he needed a fixer-upper of a house on a street that was on the rise. Rebuilds, like the massive house next to his, dwarfed his quaint three-bedroom, two-bath with unfinished basement. Even at nearly 2,500 square feet of living space, Brody’s house seemed like a miniature.

He’d always been a bit of a leap-before-he-looked kind of a guy. He’d barely peeked at photos of the house online before buying it. He’d been running out of time to set the stage for writing his book and had needed to act fast. Chicago had been a natural choice given his brother Zander had already moved there from London.

The clock was ticking on his deadline, which meant that Brody needed to stop attempting to fix things (which he apparently sucked at) and start writing. Although the “Great Man vs. Sink War” wasn’t the best idea for an opening chapter.

A car pulled into the driveway, distracting him from his thoughts.

Shit. He’d forgotten.

His cousin, Tag, unfolded from the interior, a wide grin beneath his beard. His hair was on his shoulders, his bulky arms outlined by a royal blue henley shirt. At six and a half feet tall, he was a hard man to overlook.

“What’s up, Bro?” Tag asked, using a shortened form of Brody’s name. He waggled his thumb and pinky fingers in a surfer hello. Then he dipped his bearded chin to the sink. “You planning on doing dishes on the lawn?”

Brody smiled and offered a “Fuck off, cuz.”

Tag laughed on cue.

Brody had reconnected with his Chicago cousins last weekend, making it a point to touch base at least once before he was buried in his writing-slash-house project. The youngest of his cousins, Tag was closest to Brody’s age. He and his beautiful wife Rachel had recently welcomed a baby girl into the world—the reason for this drop-in.

Tag opened the back door to reveal a car seat, and Brody’s stomach clenched in anticipation…and in a bit of discomfort. He wasn’t scared of babies, more what they represented: responsibility and a shitload of it.

His cousin emerged with a blanketed bundle in his arms. A gurgle sounded from beneath the blanket, the baby safely ensconced by Tag’s bulky muscles.

“I gotta work out more,” Brody said, approaching gingerly.

“Nah, she’s not that heavy.”

“I’m talking about your arms. How many hours do you spend in the gym anyway?” Brody was no slouch, but lately he’d lifted more kitchen sinks than barbells.

Tag unveiled his baby girl. Sunshine highlighted blond eyelashes, and a drop of drool decorated her heart-shaped mouth. She blinked and then opened eyes as blue as her father’s.

“Damn.” Brody absently rubbed his hand over his heart. “She’s absolutely precious. I can’t believe she’s half you.”

“Neither can I.” Tag chuckled. He’d been the playboy of the family and was the very last person any of them had expected to marry, let alone settle down. Not that Brody had expected that from his other city-dwelling cousins. He’d met Eli’s baby boy, Aric, the other day when he’d stopped by Eli and Isa’s warehouse home and had been equally gobsmacked by the fact Eli was a father.

“I can’t stop looking at her,” Tag said of his daughter. “I had to go back to work this week and it damn near killed me. I thought I couldn’t be happier than I was when I married Rachel. I was wrong.”

The old adage about the bigger they were, the harder they fell trotted through Brody’s head. Tag had toppled like a redwood.

“You have somewhere to sit inside, or should we hang out next to your new yard sink?”

“I have furniture inside. And beer, too, if you want one.”

Inside, Tag laid his daughter, Emilia, on Brody’s leather sofa. Surrounded by pillows, she seemed content with her makeshift bed. Brody delivered a light beer and joked that Tag had to stay at least one hour before he drove.

“I might have to. Having a baby has made our household a practically dry county. She’s our new hobby.”

“Instead of sex?” Brody sat on his recliner—a chair that had come with the house courtesy of the older man who’d lived here. He’d been on the cusp of tossing it but decided he liked the aesthetic of cracked and worn leather.

“In addition to. You’ll see if you ever settle down.” Tag took a swallow of beer. “You seeing anyone?”

“No. The last woman I dated was…” Brody shook his head rather than going into it. “Not right for me.”

“Had a lot of those before Rachel. Maybe you’ll meet someone here.”

“In this neighborhood? The women who live in houses like this one are seventy years old, and the tall new builds are filled with thirty-something, hustle-culture power couples.”

Except for the tall blonde he’d seen today. She didn’t seem to fit either of those descriptors.

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