But Dylan Trent was a daddy’s girl, and heaven help him when she started wanting boyfriends and late curfews instead of candy and toys.
“Why’s it so cold in here?” I heard Madoc bellow from down the hall.
I shook my head and tossed my daughter’s shoes on top of the hamper in our private bathroom, shutting off the light as I left. “It’s hot as hell,” I grumbled under my breath so he couldn’t hear.
I took a long look around the room, finally satisfied that it was clean and the laundry was put away. I knew Madoc and Fallon didn’t care about messes, but I did when I was staying in someone else’s house.
I pulled Jared’s long-sleeved blue-and-white pinstripe dress shirt away from my chest and continued fanning cool air down through the opening at the neck as I sat down on the edge of our bed. His mom had bought him a bunch of stylish Brooks Brothers dress shirts for his business trips, but he’d wear only the black or white ones. The blue- and pink-striped ones were mine, and they, along with my cotton pajama shorts, were my uniform these days.
Madoc pulled up outside my bedroom door, scowling at me with his hands on his hips.
“It’s cold in here,” he accused, eyeing me as the culprit, since I was the one burning up these days and keeping his house at subzero temperatures.
I let out a fake sympathetic sigh as I continued fanning myself. “Don’t make your problems my problems, man,” I replied sarcastically.
He’d just gotten back from his office in Chicago and was still dressed in his black pinstripe suit pants and white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His silver tie hung loose around his neck, which always looked like it had been yanked to near death by the time he got home every day.
Madoc loved his job, but it was also hard on him. Going against the grain, he’d decided to work in the public sector, putting away the criminals his father worked to keep free. You would think it would be hard on their relationship, but actually, both Caruthers men thrived on the “game,” as they called it. I think going head-to-head in the courtroom or conference room brought them closer together.
He rolled his eyes at me and then shot me a snarky little look as his eyes raked up and down my body. “Does Jared tell you how hot you are even though you’re overweight?”
I straightened. “I’m not overweight. I’m pregnant.”
“Nice try.” He sneered. “But you only have one kid in there.”
I flung the magazine at him just as he ducked back into the hall.
Splaying my hand across my stomach, I huffed a breath. Jerk.
Being a doctor, I knew what an acceptable weight gain was during pregnancy, and I was in fantastic shape, thank you very much.
Madoc shot his head around the corner again. “Jared’s on video chat, by the way,” he chirped. And then he was gone.
I smiled, loving the sound of those words. I put my arm behind me to push myself up off the bed.
Being nearly nine months pregnant with my second child, I agreed with Jared that I shouldn’t be at our house—the house I grew up in—alone with Dylan. Since Fallon was taking a year off from her work at an architectural firm in the city to nurture some independent projects she wanted to explore, she was the perfect babysitter if I “decided” to go into labor ahead of schedule. With Jared away for several days, he didn’t want to take any chances.
I waddled down the stairs, the weight in my stomach making my legs and back ache. I once again vowed to myself that this was the last time I was going to be pregnant.
I’d made the same promise to myself after Dylan, but Jared and I knew how lonely being an only child could be, so we decided to have another. Of course, he’d had his brother, Jax, but that wasn’t until later.
I heard growling somewhere in the house and footfalls above, and I looked up, knowing who it was. I was going to have to go up to the third floor after the call with Jared and get the kids under control. Madoc’s twin sons, Hunter and Kade, had Dylan bouncing off the walls these days. Fallon and Addie had run out for groceries, and I was hoping Madoc was upstairs trying to reel the kids in.
With Quinn here, too, the house was a den of madness and noise today.
Pulling out the chair at the kitchen table, I sat down in front of the laptop.
Jared smiled at me. “Hey, babe.”
My stomach fluttered. “Hi.” I smiled back, loving his wrinkled white dress shirt, messy hair, and loose necktie. “God, you look good,” I teased, ready to eat him with a side of fries.
Someone in the background gave him a clipboard to sign, and he glared at me as he took it. “Don’t start with me,” he warned. “I’ve been craving you like crazy. I’m tired, hungry, and horny, and I can’t wait to get on that plane tonight.”
“Shhhh . . .” I laughed, looking around for Madoc and the kids. “This house is full of people. You can talk dirty to me later,” I told him.
Jared was in California, and from the view of the background with large crates and forklifts, he was in his warehouse. He had an office there, which Pasha normally ran, but he had to make visits every few months for meetings and quality-control checks for JT Racing—JT standing for Jared and Tate, as I later discovered.
He stood at a table with the bustle of the warehouse behind him, and I couldn’t get enough. Even at thirty, my husband was hot.
Hotter, actually. Why did men age so well?
“So how’s my son?” Jared handed the clipboard back to the guy at his side and looked at me with his full attention.