Page 5 of Twins for the Silver Foxes

“Fuck off.”Scott stood and pushed Ryland’s shoulder. “I like women. That’s not a crime. Doesn’t mean I want a college girl running around washing my underwear.”

“She’d probably tryto sell it.” Ryland slapped a hand to Scott’s back. “Maybe we should ask for a butler instead. Or state that anyone under thirty need not apply.”

“You think I’m being paranoid?”Scott’s voice turned sharp.

Ryland sobered in an instant.“No. You’re right. I’m just shocked to hear you making so many demands. Not every woman you meet is out to get the better of you.”

I kept silent,as usual. Watching my two best friends argue had become something of a pastime for me. It amused me most days, infuriated me on others, and made me grateful we’d met every day. Attending Harvard had given all of us the start we’d needed, and the friendship we’d found while there was a thing to treasure. “Ryland, write the ad. Scott, you’re in charge from there.” I pointed at Scott. “You’ll do the initial interview, but we all have to agree before we hire anyone.”

If all went well,we’d have a new housekeeper by the end of the week. I hoped—for all our sakes—that whomever we hired had the constitution to withstand us and all our idiosyncrasies.

3

SCOTT

I’d fucked myself right over when I spouted off all that garbage last night. Ryland’s glee at seeing me turn paranoid almost made me regret it, but as I read the ad copy he’d written, I stood by my demands. As I scrolled down the ad while pulling open the coffee shop door, slammed to a stop before plowing into the back of a rather tall woman who glared at me when I invaded her personal space.

My million-dollar smile appeased her enough to turn back around without a loud beratement. Geez. Someone definitely needed their morning java.

The line from me to the counter held a dozen or so people, and an annoyed burst of air tickled my nose. “Should’ve gone to Java Mac.” The woman ahead of me crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow.

Her voice was low and gravelly, the kind I loved hearing late at night as pleasure spiked through my body. Damn I needed to get laid. If I’d resorted to fantasies while standing in the coffee shop, I had a real problem.

“No kidding.” I offered a low chuckle. “Good thing I’m the boss.”

Her smile stretched tight. “Must be nice.” She flipped her wrist over and showed me the time. “I’ll be the one getting screamed at for being late with the big man’s cup of joe.”

“Yeah? Sounds like you work for a real prick.” I finished reading the ad from Ryland, sending him a text saying that it looked fine before bringing my attention back to the line and the woman.

She watched me with narrowed eyes. “Funny thing. You remind me of him.”

“Ouch.” I palmed my chest, my most devastating smile in place. I had no intention of wooing this woman, but the distraction helped pass the time, and I loved a good distraction. Especially one with a tight ass and solid C cups.

“I’m sorry.” A strong, brash voice slashed through the shop. A mulish looking man stood with his hands on his hips and a mean scowl twisting his face into a pucker tighter than an acrobat’s asshole.

A woman stood in front of him, a little girl on her hip. She hefted the girl higher and tugged her hair over the opposite shoulder to keep the toddler from tying it in knots. Already, a long strand sported a rat’s nest of snarls from the girl’s handiwork. With her hair moved, she exposed a long, slender neck, a gorgeous ass, and just the right amount of curve to her hips. Slim jeans accentuated long legs, and when she turned, I damn near stopped breathing.

Blue eyes as bright as a summer sky met mine for a split second before she focused on the girl clinging to her neck. “She won’t be any trouble. Look, she could stay right here.” Her left hand shot out—ringless, I noted with surprise—and patted a lone table.

“Can’t.” The man remained resolute.

The woman shifted her weight so that her face came into full view. Pouty lips. No makeup. Eyelashes that stretched for days.And that hair… I wanted it fisted in my hands and draped across my chest.

The girl turned and rested her cheek on the woman’s shoulder. Hazel eyes scanned the room and locked onto me. She kicked her legs and giggled, wiggling her fingers in my direction. I returned her smile, my heart melting, and waved back. There was no doubt the woman was her mother. They looked too much alike and there was something about the protective stance and the desperation in the woman’s voice that solidified my determination. Mother and daughter for sure.

The line shifted forward by one person. I took a step, getting just close enough so that the woman’s whispered plea met my straining ears. “Please. You don’t understand. I need a job for the summer.”

“And I need someone who can work without having to keep track of their kid.” His scowl deepened, and it took a considerable amount of effort to keep from choking the guy. Who talked to a woman like that?

I mentally gave him thirty seconds to change his tone before I interrupted. It wouldn’t be the first time. Or the last. Fucking bastards who thought they could get away with talking to women like they were trash. I’d wipe the world clean of them. I might be a player, but I respected the hell out of women.

Another kick from the little girl, her sandaled foot brushing over her mom’s back, and that cascade of hair fell back within her grasp. The girl didn’t hesitate to grab up great handfuls and bunch it into knots. I winced at the trouble that waited when her mom tried to brush it out later.

“Look, I’m sorry.” The manager held out both his hands toward the woman. “I really am. But there’s nothing I can do. It doesn’t matter how well behaved she is. She’s a liability. No one under eighteen is allowed behind the counter.”

“But she wouldn’t be behind the counter.” A silent plea took over the woman’s expression, turning her blue eyes even more vibrant.

“Rules are rules. If you want to work here, you’ll need to find a daycare like everyone else.” He didn’t sound sorry, but at least his tone softened.

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