Mr. Mitchell Billionaires' Club Book 2 - Raylin Marks Page 0,121

can’t win, can I?”

“I take lunch out in the courtyard garden area at noon with Alyssa and Amir. If you’d like to join us, you can.”

“I have a meeting then,” he said. “It’s one that I can’t move.”

“And I’m on the clock. I have a set schedule,” I said, putting my hands on his waist. “This is going to suck, isn’t it?”

Jim took me in his arms. “More than anything. It won’t be as bad as losing you in England, but after the weekend we’ve shared, yes. You have no idea how much I’m dreading coming home to an empty house. I want to see you and watch Addy play in that pool or something.”

“I know.” I stood on my toes and kissed his lips. “Addy deserves you and me having more time together as we did in Palm Springs. I might need to start farting or something. We have to get more familiar for her sake.”

Jim’s face tightened in humor. “If you love to fart so much,” he kissed my forehead, “then you and Collin will be the best of friends.”

I laughed. “He does have a fun and witty side for a neurosurgeon, doesn’t he? Not that I know many neurosurgeons, but he’s a one-eighty of what I’d expect from one.”

“You have no idea with that man. Put him and my brother in the same room with a few beers, and the comedy show rages on all night.”

“A night like that sounds like fun.”

“We’ll do that on Saturday night, after the day on the beach. You and Addy are still going on vacation and staying at my beach house, correct?”

“Yes,” I conceded. “The first sleepover.”

“Okay.” He sighed, then his phone beeped, he checked it, and smiled at me. “Someone’s new ride is here. Let’s go handle the pink slips, or we’re both going to be late for work.”

When I walked out to Jim’s driveway, I was looking for a regular car, not this badass, four-door, black Aston Martin. I quietly followed everything the man and Jim were saying. The damn thing was at the top of its game after Aston Martin decided to make a four-door vehicle that would sweep the market in luxury sports cars. I glanced back a few times to see how it matched Jim’s car, what he said Addy’d referred to as the roller coaster car.

I signed the dotted line, my hand shaking at the fact that Jim was gifting me this car. I was utterly speechless. I’d never had a pink slip to my name—ever. Now, here I was, standing in front of a car that I didn’t quite match. Shit, this thing was going to get ripped off at my apartment complex. Maybe Jim and I would have to move in together. We pretty much adopted a child with this thing, and I instantly didn’t want a scratch on it or anyone fucking with it. Mostly because it was a beautiful gift from Jim.

While Jim finished up with the man, I peered into the car. I smiled, seeing a custom car seat for Addy in the back. Jesus Christ, this was too much.

“Thank you, Mr. Mitchell,” I heard the man say.

“Have a good day,” Jim said, and the man was gone in a dealership car that’d followed him to Jim’s place.

“Think Addy will be impressed?” he asked, while I looked at him in awe. “And perhaps you could try it out while giving me a ride to work?”

“How is it that you think of everything?” I asked with a smile. “How in the living hell did you manage to get a car that matched yours?”

“Alex is my car guy, the go-to man, so to speak,” he said with a broad grin. “He mentioned it after I asked if there was anything out there like my Aston Martin. It turns out there was.”

“Well, partner,” I was holding back tears of gratitude and overwhelming joy, although my cracking voice was giving that away, “this is quite a step up from the car I had. Tell Alex I said thank you, and you?” I shook my head and swallowed back more tears. “God, thank you.” I hugged him and was molded into his body, smelling his delicious cologne. “Thank you, Jim, so very much for this. For taking care of us.”

He pulled away, and his lips brushed gently over mine. “Always. I’m just hoping that you don’t kill this one,” he teased, easing me out of the explosive ugly cry of gratitude.

“I’m not a crappy driver.