Crazy for Loving You A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy - Pippa Grant Page 0,32

gone.” My beef isn’t actually with Daisy. She seems nice enough, if a little wild and unpredictable, and while the life she’ll most likely give Remy isn’t the one I’d pick for him, it won’t be a bad life, and I don’t think she’ll raise him to be an asshole. Nor do I think it’s ultimately my business.

Honestly, any other day, I’d let myself call her attractive.

But I’m not going there.

Not getting attached.

To either of them.

Alessandro’s watching me. “So you’re not trying to replace Sierra’s kids with Remy. Baxter and Nina, right? Those were her kids?”

I shove to my feet, because fuck.

My family won’t even say those names to me.

Somebody did his research. My jaw’s clenching, and I want to hit him, but that won’t help Remy either.

“Gentlemen, I’m hungry,” Daisy calls. She’s in a bikini that’s barely holding in her breasts, with her smooth, soft belly and curvy hips and legs on full display. And now that her friends have departed, there’s no distraction from looking at her. “Fish Tails for lunch. Twenty minutes. Let’s go.”

I eyeball her body again. There’s no way she can get dressed and get a baby prepped to get out the door in twenty minutes.

“Are you seriously doubting my abilities already, Mr. Jaeger?” she calls playfully, like she can read my mind.

“Just thinking delivery would be easier.”

“No way. I’m not staying cooped up in this house all day.”

“This house is forty thousand square feet,” I point out. Maybe not that big. But it’s fucking big. “Go to a different room.”

Alessandro smirks.

Daisy lifts her chest and puts her fists on her hips, drawing all of my attention to the sparkle in her belly button.

Hells, yeah! my balls cheer.

“Suit yourself if you want to stay,” she says. “Remy and I are going to lunch. And we’re going to have a fabulous time introducing him to all the neighbors.”

Fuck, she’s hot, my left nut whispers.

My right nut bumps his fist.

And my brain engages on the words introducing him to all the neighbors. I don’t know much about going out with celebrities and public figures—except my brother, who’s large enough to take care of himself and not need a bodyguard—but I have a feeling the baby’s going to get mobbed.

And Alessandro’s sigh reiterates the suspicion.

“Just you backing her up?” I ask him.

He shakes his head like I’m a moron.

Of course she’d have an entourage.

She doesn’t need me.

But fuck it.

Why not go out to lunch?

See what this Bluewater community has to offer while I’m here. Who knows? Maybe I’ll meet a rich single woman who just needs a little stress relief.

Probably not, but seriously—it’s just lunch.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Thirteen

Daisy

I had no idea that getting a mahi-mahi sandwich from Fish Tails, the Caribbean-themed seafood restaurant in Bluewater’s private shopping village, could be such an epic ordeal.

Or that so much gear could fit in the back of my tricked-out VW Bug.

But here we are, not even at Fish Tails yet, with a diaper bag, a stroller, a baby carrier, a baby sling, and one very tight-lipped temporary co-guardian competing with Alessandro for Most Acutely Observant Dude With Muscles, all strolling down the plank sidewalks past Mrs. Chu’s jewelry shop with the display of my mom’s penis artwork in the picture window, dodging locals on golf carts and stopping to answer questions from other residents who saw the news in People or heard it from their neighbors and want to either offer their condolences, tell me they bought everything Julienne ever one-starred, or ask to see the baby.

Sometimes all three in one sentence.

My neighbors are awesome. Especially the Wealthy Widows. Nothing like gossipy, happy old ladies who have all the life experience I want to have one day, making suggestions on how best to care for a baby.

I am soaking it up.

“Are we eating today, or should we just go throw ourselves in Steve’s lagoon to spare ourselves the pain of starving to death?” Alessandro mutters.

“I don’t know who Steve is, but I’m betting we should go with him,” West mutters back.

“You two are adorable,” I tell them.

Also, I’m intentionally stalling, because Tiana texted back that my last-minute lunch plans required a wee bit more time to execute.

West is welcome. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.

I smile at Mrs. Esteban, who’s jogging in place beside us with ten-karat diamonds in her ears and glittering hand-weights gripped in each hand. “We’ll catch up later,” I tell her.

She nods. “Bring the little one by the gym sometime soon. We’ll show him