Page 23 of Double Mountain Men

“I care because I care about you. You’ve had my child, and in secret I might add. Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell us? Didn’t you think Brett and I would want to know?”

Misty’s pretty features are ice cold.

“No, because I was nothing but a random fuck to you, Cross,” she says in a cool tone. “Don’t you remember? You were spending a month at the cabin with your friend, double-teaming a line-up of young women. In fact, when I left, there was another chickarriving to take my place! What were we: numbers five and six? Or fifteen and sixteen? Whatever it is, you disgust me.”

The baby senses his mother’s distress and pops off her nipple to let out a wail.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Misty whispers angrily, her eyes shooting sparks, as she gently directs the pink tip back into Sylvester’s mouth. “There you go, sweetheart. Yes, Mommy loves you.”

I feel ashamed because the month at the cabin was exactly as she describes: a hedonistic thirty days of fucking, sucking, and enjoying female bodies without the burden of names, feelings, or responsibilities. It was what Misty alleges: a month-long fuckfest where women allowed their bodies to be used in exchange for money. But what our pretty girl doesn’t know is that it all ended with her, and I try to explain.

“We sent the next woman away,” I say in a low voice. “Yes, it was a debauched thirty days, but I swear it ended with you.”

Misty stares at me, her eyes filled with disbelief.

“Do you really expect me to believe that? Two forty-five-year-old men planned out a sordid orgy in advance. And then they gave it up because of what? Guilt? Attachment? Remorse?”

I hold up a hand.

“I don’t know what you’d call it, but we definitely sent the next girl away. And no one else came later. We were done after we experienced that magical weekend with you, and you can verify this with Barrett.”

“Oh, so that’s his name,” Misty says in a sarcastic tone. “He’s not Brett. He’s Barrett.”

I take a deep breath because Misty’s obviously agitated, and I need to keep this conversation as calm as possible.

“Yes, he’s Barrett Coleman and I’m Cross Decker. We couldn’t use our real names because we’re powerful, well-known businessmen, and shit gets around. What we did was fucked-up, and we didn’t want the world to know. So we kept it on the downlow, and if you remember, there were a lot of NDAs to sign.”

“I remember,” she spits.

“But now, it’s two years later, and we’re in a different place in life,” I say, managing to speak in an even tone. Misty is an enraged filly, and I’m a horse-whisperer, trying to calm her down. “You’ve had our child, and that changes everything.”

She squints at me but then shakes her head furiously.

“No, it doesn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Decker,” she says, turning while trying to juggle the baby with one hand while managing the stroller with the other. “I need to be going.”

I stride over in a few steps and block the door with my massive form, looking down at the tiny blonde.

“No, not yet,” I say in a dark tone that brooks no dissent. “You belong to us, Misty Earnshaw. You and the baby both because there’s no turning this ship around. Barrett will want to know that he’s a daddy, and even more than that, we’re going to figure something out where all three of us are part of the child’s life.”

“Oh really,” she says sarcastically. “You think you can barge in just like that.”

Misty grips her baby tightly, her eyes still shooting sparks. But there are also tears brimming on her lashes, and now that I havea chance to look at her more closely, I can see that she’s pale and tired. Her clothes are patched, and her hair is clean, but it’s lost some of its glossy shine. Her stroller looks second-hand too, with silver duct tape wrapped around the handles and the front wheels slightly warped.

Suddenly, I know without a doubt that Misty is barely clinging to survival. She and my son have been living on the edge of poverty, and there’s no way I’m going to let this go on. I’m a wealthy man, and possession flows through my veins like molten lava because this woman needs me ... and I’m here to answer her call.

“What the fuck?”Barrett gasps. “Are you shitting me?”

“No,” I growl into the phone. “Misty’s back, and she had our baby. His name is Sylvester.”

“Oh shit,” Barrett muses. “But how did she get pregnant? I thought those chicks from Sweet Lies always use protection. Like the site won’t let them create a profile if they don’t provide proof of protection.”

I shrug, my expression resolute.

“I don’t know, but it happened, and it doesn’t matter now.”

“But why didn’t she tell us?” Barrett asks. “What the fuck? Didn’t she think we’d want to know? We’re the fathers, goddamit!”

I shake my head again, suddenly tired.

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