Page 36 of Hot Momosa

Leo

I’d lostfeeling in my ears, but Gunnar’s laughter made it all worthwhile. Besides, numb was an improvement over the pain. Who knew two-year-olds had such strong grips?

The gaggle of reporters followed a few feet behind us. One snapped picture after picture, while two shouted questions.

As I’d predicted, Fifi, Cupcake, and Eugene went ballistic. The Three Poodle-teers barked so ferociously their front legs came off the ground with each yip. Big dogs might have bulk, but I’d wrestle with a freaking labradoodle any day of the week before I’d take on a pissed off poodle.

The paparazzi asked the same questions as they had the day before.

“Dahlia, does the governor know you’re involved with a suspected mobster?”

“Did you call it quits with Harrison?”

“Any news about your stalker?”

I’d tuned them out until the blonde female asked, “Leo, Gunnar looks a lot like you. Would you like to make a statement?”

“That one’s kind of hard to ignore.” Beth tightened her grip on the leashes and glanced from me to the boy on my shoulders. “The resemblance is hard to miss.”

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Dahlia and Stuart had made a clean get-away. “Ready to get rid of the paparazzi?”

“More than ready.” She removed her sunglasses and turned to face the reporters.

The photographer lowered his camera and let loose a string of curses. The blonde put him to shame with the colorful words coming out of her mouth. She might have looked like Poly-freaking-Sunshine, but she had a not-safe-for-prime-time vocabulary.

“Language.” Beth planted her hands on her hips and stared them down. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves. There’s a child present.”

Certain types of people thrived on conflict. As a general rule, it was better not to engage the internet trolls and gossip reporters of the world. However, Beth hadn’t gotten the memo, nor had the poodles.

The blonde paparazzi flashed a predatory smile. “A child that has no father named on his birth certificate.”

I’d had enough, but there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it. I couldn’t lay into the blonde with Gunnar on my shoulders, nor could I set the record straight without talking to Dahlia first. “Let’s go, Beth.”

The women continued their staring contest.

I turned and walked back toward the condo. She’d catch up to me, or she wouldn’t. I didn’t care either way. I had things to do.

Dahlia turning me down for Christmas had given me an idea, a rather brilliant one in fact. The holidays were all about family. What better way to show her we could be a family than to take part in some of my favorite traditions?

Beth jogged to my side. “Want me to take the dogs on their usual route, or do you want company?”

I gave her side-eye. “That depends—are you going to ask me any more questions I can’t answer?”

Beth’s eyes widened before she shook her head. “Nope. It’s none of my business, but congrats. He’s a lucky kid.”

“I’m lucky.” Gunnar hugged my head, half-blinding me in the process.

“We both are. Love you, little man.” I pretended to gnaw on his leg and was rewarded with peals of laughter. “What do you want Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

“Fish,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

I whispered to the mother of two rambunctious boys, “Can two-year-olds have fish?”

Beth tugged on Gunnar’s pantleg. “Do you want a fish to eat or a pet?”

“To pet it.” He ran his hands over my hair as if to demonstrate.

“In the grand scheme of things, fish aren’t so bad. He could have asked for drums or a snake.” She gave me a sly smile.

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