Page 114 of No Romeo
His hand gripped my jaw, pulling my gaze to his. “No more lies.”
I touched my forehead to his. “No more lies.”
“So, are you going to marry me or what, Lola Cola?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.”
And then he kissed me as if he hadn’t a thousand times before. As though he couldn’t wait to kiss me a thousand times more.
Epilogue
HENDRIX
6 Years Later
The late-August sun beat down on the pool deck outside mine and Lola’s house. I hated to admit it, but this shit would make Barrington jealous. Even Chadwick Beaverlichtenstein had looked impressed when he had brought Kyle over for the first time.
All I could say was that raffle business had taken off. Like millionaire taken off. And everyone thought that whiffle-ball bat had killed all my brain cells…
Zepp grabbed a beer from the cooler before collapsing onto a lounge chair beside a miserably pregnant Monroe. She did not have the mom-to-be glow. Not like my Lola.
Zepp flicked a beer cap at me. “I can’t believe you got Lola pregnantagain.”
Again, like four kids was a lot. I adjusted eighteen-month-old Axel in my arms, fixing his dinosaur sun hat before I looked across the pool. Lola stood, pregnant stomach out in her sexy two-piece, trying to wrangle a toy bucket off our three-year-old son, Ozzy’s, head.
Smiling, I maneuvered the beer out of Axel’s grip and jutted my chin toward the pool. “The plan is six.”
“You’re insane,” Monroe mumbled, leaning back on the lounge chair and rubbing a hand over her stomach.
“And you’re soulless.”
Over the years, that redheaded succubus had grown on me like filth over a diseased rag. I’d go as far as to say I loved her. I’d just never admit it. It would ruin everything we had going.
I shot a glare at her, trying not to smile. “Don’t be all pissy because Zepp’s swimmers took forever to penetrate your steel-plated, redheaded devil eggs.”
My brother frowned at me. “It’s called protection, you dipshit.”
I shifted my kid in my arms. “It’s called no one asked you, cocksucker.”
Yeah, age nor money had made me mature. I was not wine. I was an opened beer. I did not get better with time.
Crew, our five-year-old, darted across the pool deck, floaties on his arms and a dragon raft around his waist. “Look, Daddy, I’m a ball of poo!” he shouted before launching himself off the side and sending an impressive wave of water splashing all over Monroe.
Swiping the water from her face, she huffed. “Why?”
“Hey, buddy,” I said to Crew, trying to dodge Axel’s hand slapping my cheek. “Next time, try to get Aunt Red a little more. Your baby cousin is making her hot.”
He shot a thumbs up before paddling off.
“You’re really an ass,” Monroe said.
Axel grunted, most likely taking a shit in his diaper. “You’re brewing that one for Aunt Red, aren’t you?”
“Don’t even…”
A pink blur of a child shot across the yard, screeching. Followed closely by Bellamy and Drew.
“Don’t run!” Bellamy shouted, shaking his head before he dropped to the chair beside me. “I’m tired as hell, and I only have one. How are you not dead yet, Hendrix?”
