Page 8 of Jack's Devotion

Why do I ask? Why do I even ask? He's clearly lost his damn mind.

"Protect you and your company. Haunt and destroy your prick of a father," he says, ticking his list off on his fingers. "And then I can get you pregnant."

I stare at him. Just stare. I still know words. I have thoughts. But I can't think of any right now. Not a single one. Mostly because his list honestly doesn't sound that bad.

I mean…sure, he's probably lost his damn mind. But apparently, I'm not averse to carrying his kid even if he is mentally unstable.

Lord help me. I gotta stop reading so many books about rich men who do dirty things. They are clearly not good for my grasp on reality.

Or maybe it's just this rich man who isn't good for my grasp on reality.

Either way…reality is crumbling because Jack Whitlock, the man I've fantasized about since I was seventeen and he told me I looked beautiful, wants me to have his baby. And my mouth is not opening to say no.

Help. Me.

Chapter Three

Jack

"Jesus Christ, Jack!" Dillon practically shouts at me as soon as he answers the phone. "I've been calling you for an hour to make sure you were still alive."

"I didn't hear my phone. I was busy."

Judging from the silence ringing down the line, the sheriff is cranky tonight. Typical. For a man as blissed out in love as he is, he's one crabby bastard.

"Who was in your pool house?"

"What?"

He growls like a rabid dog as I peek through the blinds at said pool house, hoping to catch a glimpse of Madison. I tried to convince her to come stay in the house with me, but I think I mayhave freaked her out a little with the having-my-baby talk. She decided to stay out there tonight.

I couldn't think of a single valid excuse to stay with her. I'm not happy about it. I'd much rather her be in my bed. You know, where I can keep an eye on her.

"Your pool house," Dillon growls. "Who was in it?"

Fate. Destiny. An angel straight from the past.

"Rats," I lie.

"What the fuck?"

"Apparently I have an infestation. They're probably attracted to the humidity from the heat pump under the pool house." If lying to an officer of the law is a crime…actually, it is a crime in certain situations. Whatever. I'm going to hell, sue me.

But I'm not ratting Madison out to the fucking sheriff. If she wants to hide out here and haunt her father until the bastard cracks, I'm down. Dillon probably won't see it that way. He has a legal obligation to do all the legal shit. Better not to involve him yet.

"Jesus Christ." His heavy sigh speaks volumes. "I thought you were dead. I'm going to fucking bed until Monday. Do not call me until then, Jack. I'm serious."

"For the record, I texted you. You called me. I told you it was probably a ghost. It's not my fault you got all bent out of shape," I remind him. He did that all by himself.

"When I drop dead, I'm haunting your new pool," he mutters. "I'm going to leave ectoplasm all over the goddamn thing."

"If that's a fancy way of saying you're going to beat off in my pool when you're dead, I will hire an exorcist and fill it with holy water, motherfucker."

Dillon laughs. "I'm not a demon, you asshole."

"Huh. Could have fooled me." I peek through the blinds again, scowling when I still don't see Madison. Would it be morallywrong to cut the power to the pool house so she has to move into the mansion? Asking for a friend. Obviously.

Dillon laughs again and then hangs up on me.

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