Page 59 of Sexy Bad Daddy

Peter chuckles, like we’re standing around rehashing the good ole days. “Because I used to always get on her about staying between the lines whenever I let her drive my Maserati.”

“Your Maserati?” Garrett asks, sounding confused.

“That was eight years ago,” I say, throwing my hands in the air.

“Has she gotten any better?” Peter says, looking at Garrett like he expects an answer.

“Who the fuck are you?” Garrett responds.

Peter smiles cheerfully and extends his arm as he walks toward Garrett, but then he pauses at the edge of the pond. Looking down at the spongy ground, he frowns and drops his hand. “I’m Peter Wilkins. Erin’s lover.”

“What?”

“No!” I cry out. I know this thing I have with Garrett isn’t perfect, but goddamn it, I don’t want it to end. Not yet. And not on someone else’s terms. Especially not because of Peter. “That’s not true.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Erin,” Peter says, his voice still far too cheerful for the situation. “I divorced my wife for you. So we could be together.”

“No,” I say, turning to Garrett. “It’s not the same…”

Lights are flashing all around. A wall of people stand behind Peter, every damn one of them holding up either a phone or some other sort of device that records things you’d rather not save for posterity.

“She used to be my nanny,” Peter says in that same happy tone, like he senses victory is his for the taking. Or he’s just batshit crazy. Probably a combination of the two. “And then we became lovers.”

Garrett’s looking at me, like he needs an explanation, which I most definitely want to give him. I lift my arm, my fingers extended. I don’t know why or what I plan to do. My mouth opens, but my tongue can’t seem to push out words. I probably look like I’m emulating that game, Plants vs. Zombies. Except instead of brains, I want Garrett. The one thing I can’t have.

Danny skirts around Peter and climbs onto the golf cart, edging me out of the driver’s seat. I scoop the duck into my lap and bow my head. I’ve ruined everything. Garrett had only just managed to pull his reputation back from the brink, and my past has destroyed it all, probably for good this time. I can already envision the headlines, and I cannot imagine Callum will be able to fix this one.

Garrett’s sponsors are no doubt already calling, and they’re ripping up their contracts, trying to distance themselves from the bad boy golfer who diddled with the nanny who makes a habit of fucking unavailable daddies.

“Nothing to see here, folks, nothing to see,” Danny says as he grabs the steering wheel and presses on the gas pedal. The cart lurches forward, heading over the narrow passage next to where Garrett still stands in the pond with water soaking his dress pants.

“Erin—” Garrett says.

“I love you, Erin,” Peter calls.

The words I’ve wanted Garrett to say for months, the words the media has been hounding him about, and in the end, the wrong man said them.

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