Page 74 of Grump Daddy's Baby

Not watching a soccer game where the ball is repeatedly kicked in every direction.

“If you don’t turn this shit off,” I warn through my teeth, “the heaviest thing closest to me is going to become part of your head.”

Myles glances over his shoulder at me, unamused green eyes letting me know he heard me, but he doesn’t care as he returns his attention to my flat-screen TV. “You’re an unsophisticated piece of shit. And the match doesn’t start for anotherthreehours.”

“And there are about thirty baseball games I could be watching right now.”

Myles chucks the remote at me and I promptly catch it, pulling up my MLB app on my smart TV and thanking God that theissue is resolved.

My doorbell rings a second later, prompting Myles to quickly jump from the adjoining couch and skip to it. “I’ll get it.”

“Myles,” I say, because I know this motherfucker and I’m getting too old for him. I have kids—that aren’t here this weekend—and all he wants to do is party and fuck. Any opportunity that arises, he’s inviting chicks and banging half of them.

This is a boys’ night.

Unless he has something he wants to tell me.

“Victoria and Mindy,” he bellows excitedly from inside my foyer. “Girls, come in. We’ve been waiting for you.”

No, we have not.

I rise from my seat. I’m over this shit. I’m not interested in strange women entering my house when I got one upstairs taking a nap because I fucked her brains out last night.

I almost feel bad.

Whenever Molly has a free moment when I’m not mauling or kissing on her, she’s taking a catnap in either of our beds and I like that.

I like that she’s within my grasp whenever I want her and, as fucking creepy as that sounds, I really don’t care. That woman has done a number on me that doesn’t involve drinking a bottle of Jack and drowning myself into metal music.

“You girls remember Odin, right?”

I notice Myles is careful with what name he chooses because only those closest to me use my real name, but it still doesn’t stop the layer of irritation that runs through my veins.

And that’s when I catch sight of the two blondes that stride into my living room with tight dresses on that hug their curves—or lack of—and beaming, fake-ass smiles.

“I do,” the one on the Myles’s right says. “We met at one of your launch parties a few years back.”

I’m slightly embarrassed that I don’t recognize her or remember her name, so I don’t say anything at all.

Myles gestures toward the room. “Ladies, take a seat. We’re ordering pizza and I Doordashed some wine.”

The one who just spoke to me rounds the closest couch and dares to come to mine, taking a seat right next to me and still keeping that shit-eating grin on her face.

“I’m Mindy.” She reaches a hand out for me to shake, but I don’t bother dropping the remote or reaching for it with my free one.

“Why are you here?”

Her face immediately drops and so does her hand before tucking a piece of wavy blonde hair behind her ear. “Umm…Myles invited us. And I wouldn’t give up an opportunity to watch the fight.”

“Right,” I deadpan, forgetting the TV and ramping up on the idea of getting her the hell out of my house. “Who are you bettin’ on to win?”

Her light brown eyes widen as if surprised I’d ask her such a question, but this is obviously why she’s here, right? “Ohhh…um, well, I’m still deciding.”

“If you had to choose, though,” I press. “Youareinterested in boxing, right?”

“Absolutely. I love it.”

I turn my body to face her a bit more as if I’m extremely into this conversation, even though my tone doesn’t change a bit to hint that. “Did you see that Wallace-Ryland fight the other night?”

---