Page 22 of Regards, Mia

“Don’t be an asshole!” I nearly bite his head off. “You want a kid at your age?”

“No.” A sullen look crosses his face. “But I can’t buy rubbers at the Blanchard’s. Miss Bella would rat me out.” He cocks his head. “Guess I could lift them.”

I glower at him. “No stealing.”

He sighs, looking miserable.

“If you’re gonna have sex, use protection. Not just the pill,” I say. “There are other…” I hesitate, trying to figure out exactly how I got myself into this conversation.

“You don’t have to give me the talk. I’m not a baby.”

I grab a notepad, write down my cell, and rip out the page. “Call me if you need a place to stay. You can crash here.”

The color fades from his cheeks and his eyes widen. “You mean it?”

I nod and force the paper on him. “I mean it. But no girls. This isn’t your bachelor pad.”

“Alright.”

His hopeful face embarrasses me. “If I catch you breaking in here again, I won’t call the cops. But I will make sure you learn your lesson. You hear me?”

He nods, pocketing the paper. “I got it.”

“And first thing tomorrow, I need you back here at the gym. You’re gonna scrub down the sauna before I open in the morning.”

He pulls a face. “But I’ve got school.”

“Then I’ll see you before. Bright and early.” A thought comes to mind, and it makes me cringe. Where else has George been bringing girls? “All week you’re gonna stay after and help me with chores.”

George doesn’t even attempt to protest. He knows he’s getting off easy.

“You got a place to stay tonight?”

When he nods, I point to the door. “Get lost.”

He scrambles to the door. On his way out, he turns to look at me, and I swear I see tears shining in his eyes. “Thanks.”

I stack a folder on my desk, pretending to be busy, and nod. “Bright and early tomorrow,” I remind him.

He leaves, and I wait until I hear the door close before following him out. If a sixteen-year-old can break in, my security system needs revamping.

At least it will give me something to occupy my mind other than my problems.

CHAPTER 9

Knight on a Shining Harley

Lacey: Thatcher—I can’t wait to see your uncle’s library

Sloane: I’ve got samples from the new menu for everyone to try

Thatcher: bring wine, lots of wine

I’ve been at my desk all day, and every muscle in my body is cramped. The text messages come at the perfect time, reminding me I need to leave. Thatcher is renovating the house his uncle left him, and we’ve all been roped in to helping him pack up his uncle’s library.

Almost everyone is gone for the day. Everyone except me and Jordan, which is like every other night. Both of us are workaholics who often stay late, ordering takeout for dinner.

Not tonight.

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