Page 38 of The Plus One Contract

“Yeah, let’s move on.” I reach for Rosie, and she squirms into my arms.

They groan. “Ah, come on, man. Don’t use the baby.”

“How about your uncle?” I ask Rosie, ignoring them and bouncing her on my knee. “He have any women sneaking out before dawn?”

Wes snorts and takes a swig of beer. “Rosie’s the only woman in my life, right, kid?”

I glance at him, recalling how we used to skip class and smoke behind the bleachers. Now he’s raising his niece alone while Julian and I juggle million-dollar deals. Sometimes, it feels like the world spun too fast for us to catch our breath.

We met young, the kind of childhood friendship that stuck even as we grew into different people. Julian and I always chased the next big thing, while Wes kept his head down. He could rip a car apart and rebuild it by fifteen. We were making money; he was making something tangible with his own hands.

Years later, he opened his own shop, doing it on his terms. Then, three months ago, Amber died, leaving Rosie behind. Wes lost his sister and brother-in-law overnight and stepped in as a father.

No one knows how to help. Wes never complains, but I see how it wears on him. We’re just here to lighten the load in any way we can.

Julian picks up a toy block from the deck. “When are you going back to the shop?”

Wes rubs his jaw. “Soon. The guys have it covered for now. I want Rosie settled first, in some routine. Then I’ll get back to work for my own sanity.”

Julian nods. “You need a nanny.”

“Oh, do I?”

“Yeah, and not a hot one. Hot nannies are trouble.” Julian waggles the block. “Get a good, reliable one who’ll teach Rosie to become a corporate prodigy someday.”

I roll my eyes. “So we’re training a toddler for finance now?”

“Gotta start young,” Julian says, grinning as Rosie stacks blocks on my knee before they topple.

Wes reaches over and pats Rosie’s back. “She’s one.”

“And has a bright future,” Julian fires back.

Rosie claps, oblivious to our plans for her life.

Wes looks at me pointedly. “So, about impressing your future in-laws, or whatever this is with Sienna…”

“It’s business, and it’s just for a week.”

Julian and Wes exchange a look that makes my hackles rise.

“Famous last words,” Julian mutters into his beer.

I cover Rosie’s eyes and flip him off.

Eighteen

Sienna

Iwake up groggy, disoriented, and convinced for a solid ten seconds that I’ve been kidnapped.

The ceiling isn’t mine. The sheets aren’t mine. There’s a faint smell of lavender in the air that is definitely not mine.

Then, somewhere in the back of my sluggish brain, reality clicks into place.

Right. Home.

I groan, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes as I push myself upright. My entire body feels like I’ve been flattened by a steamroller, which, considering I spent last night tangled up in Nathan’s bed, feels about right.

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