Page 21 of Chasing I Do
Darcy’s eyes once again found Kylie. She was in the bounce house, hands on her hips, chin in the air, telling the biggest kid on the football team that tackling in the bounce house wasn’t nice play.
Darcy smiled. “That depends on which Gage shows up. I would love for the guy who wrote that note to meet Kylie. But if it is the cold and calculated one who sent that contract, then all bets are off. I don’t screw around with my daughter’s happiness.”
She’d walked away from a marriage to ensure it. She’d take on the entire Easton clan if it meant protecting it.
Chapter 6
It was official. Gage needed a vacation.
He’d started his day at the gym, getting his ass handed to him by Clay as he attempted to keep pace with a freaking machine. Oh, Clay had given him a pep talk. One that included name calling and multiple demands to hand over his man-card. Then Owen had arrived, proving the theory behind mob mentality, and by the time Josh showed up with a booklet of bridal gown swatches, Gage flipped them the finger and hit the showers.
By eight, he couldn’t feel his legs, but managed to stay upright while he got dressed and walked the three blocks to his office. Half-way there, he heard his phone ping and saw that it was an email from Darcy saying,I AM OPEN TO DISCUSSING THE POSSIBILITIES AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE, and damn near sprinted to his car.
There was a list of possibilities they needed to discuss. Kylie for one. They needed to come to an agreement that included his family being in her life. A close second was the wedding. But the only possibilities his head wanted to entertain were ones that had to do with exploring the connection between them.
In fact, last night he’d come up with some pretty damn creative ones. All of which required no clothes, and none of which were real possibilities. Didn’t stop him from running to his car like some anxious teenager though.
Calling himself a dozen kinds of asshole, he tossed his gym bag in the truck and slammed the door. A snarling sounded from inside his car, followed by a loud growl that sounded straight out ofJurassic Park. And not an herbivore either, it sounded like one of those raptor things was inside his car, making mincemeat of his seats.
Gage placed a hand over the window and peered in when—
“What the hell?”
Something lunged at his face, throwing itself against the door, teeth bared, little pink painted nails scratching against the glass.
“Yip!Yip!Yip!Yip!”
He glanced around the parking lot, but didn’t see anyone. No laughing brothers, no Stephanie, no one he could give the abomination to. Nope, it was just him and Fancy—dressed in a pink top with a skirt that was a ruffle of silk flowers on his butt.
“You, off the leather!”
At his voice, Littleshit went from snarling to panting happily, his hot breath and wet nose marking up the window. Gage didn’t even want to get into what his tongue was doing to the glass.
A post-it note was stuck in the weather stripping on the window. It was small, yellow, and so funny Gage wanted to punch a brother—didn’t matter which one, since they were likely all in on the joke. He should have known something was up when half of his family showed up before daylight.
He tore the note off the window.
Be back a week from tomorrow. Dog food’s in the front seat, outfits in the carrier, wee-wee pads on the floorboard. You’re welcome.
~ Rhett
PS. I hear kids like dogs, so there’s that…
“One wee-wee in my car and shit will get real. Understood?” Gage said, opening the door and scooping Fancy up, who licked his face. “As soon as I find out where your dad is, you’re going back to him.”
Fancy didn’t give two shits. He caught sight of his reflection in the window and struggled to get free so he could annihilate it.
Gage suspended him in midair, his miniature legs going a million miles a minute.
With an empathetic chuckle for the guy’s struggle, he pulled out his phone and dialed Rhett. Gage left a scathing voicemail, then dialed Clay. Ditto.
He went down the list as not a single one of them answered, but Fancy had tired himself out and was hanging from his hand, limp, his tongue dangling out the side of his mouth.
Gage considered calling his mom, but was about as excited about dog-sitting as he was about lying. And since he knew that call would require an apology for not calling often enough, a promise to have dinner this week, and a complete accounting of his day, he punted.
A stacked redhead walked by and gave Gage a once over, then smiled. “Cute dog.”
“You want him?” Gage asked holding Littleshit out in offering. “He’s…ah…laid back, potty trained, and belonged to a celebrity.”
