Page 15 of Good as Gold
In my defense, I live over the bar. It’s not like I drove out of my way to look for him. And in Matteo’s defense, he has a big family. I keep reminding myself that he needs to prioritize them.
But there’s no denying how hurt I’ll feel if he disappears to Colorado again without calling me. We still need to catch up. I have questions. The night of the wedding, Matteo looked tired—all the way to the bone.
What’s up with that?
When my phone finally rings, it startles me. I throw down my book and grab it, my tummy fluttering when I see Matteo’s name on the screen. “Hello?”
“Hey, Leila. What are you up to?”
“Doing a little reading.”
“You always were the smart one. Always reading.”
Yeah, I guess that’s true. Except back then, I was reading different material. These days I read only two kinds of books—the ones about how to get pregnant after your thirty-fifth birthday, and the ones like I’m reading tonight—a book about a billionaire who’s secretly in love with the waitress at his favorite restaurant.
In fact, Matteo’s call has come at a rather unfortunate moment. The billionaire and the waitress are just about to bone for the first time in the back of his limo.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
A strange gurgle comes through the phone’s speaker. “Okay,” he says, “funny story. I’m at Zara’s place. She and Dave went away for an overnight. They left me in charge.”
“Wait. You’rebabysitting? Both kids?” I suddenly form a mental picture of Matteo holding a baby. And, sue me, he’s shirtless in this particular fantasy. If I ever saw that in real life, my ovaries might actually explode.
Before he can answer, I hear a baby’s whimper. “Yeah,” he says with a sigh. “And I did a fine job tucking in Nicole. She’s asleep in her bed. But the baby is another story. Zara says he’s usually asleep by eight, but…”
I glance at the clock. Nine thirty. “But?”
“But every time I put him down in the crib, he screams like he’s on fire.”
“Let me guess—when he cries, you pick him up again. And then the cycle repeats?”
“Exactly. Kid’s lungs are great. I’m afraid he’s going to wake his sister. Or the neighbors will call 911. Got any tips? This is kind of your area of expertise.”
Blame my dead social life. Blame my steamy book. Or my baby fever. But I blurt, “You need some help?”
His voice is a sexy scrape. “You know I do. If you can get this kid to sleep, I’ll call you queen for a week.”
I snicker. “Fine. I can be there in five. No…ten.”
“Bless you, your highness. You know where Zara’s place is?”
“Actually, I do.” Zara and Dave once held a party to raise funds for the preschool’s scholarship program, so I’ve been to the house.
He sighs. “I keep forgetting that I’m the only asshole who doesn’t know where the members of my family currently live. See you in ten? I can probably sing ‘Itsy Bitsy Spider’ a few more times before I drop dead of exhaustion.”
“Hang in there. See you in a few.”
We hang up, and I go racing for my closet. The truth is that I could probably get there in two minutes, but I’m too vain to hang out with Matteo in sweatpants and an old T-shirt printed with:I can do anything. Except reach the top shelf. I can’t do that.
I exchange those clothes for a low-cut sweater, tight jeans, and little silver earrings with moonstones. Then I spend a couple minutes refreshing my makeup.
Let’s not examine my motives. Nothing good will come of that.
Before heading out the door, I grab a bottle of wine and a bag of spicy cheese puffs. I climb in my car and make the short trip. Zara and Dave’s house is just up the hill and around the Colebury Green.
Matteo opens the door as I walk up the driveway. One of his strong arms is cradling Micah, who’s ten months old.
Is there anything hotter than a big, strapping man holding a baby? No. Definitely not. As predicted, the sight causes my ovaries to dance a jig. I can’t decide where to put my eyes. On the rugged man wearing a waffle-knit hoodie that stretches across his muscular chest? Or the snuggly baby in polar bear PJs?
