Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Okay. That makes sense. I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“Then adjust your thoughts because this is already in your wheelhouse. Just make sure you put it into play.”
Whiffs of blueberries and pie crust slowly fill the home. It’s the kind of smell I’ve always thought a mom’s kitchen should have. Our kitchen growing up was scented like cleaning products from the housekeeper, and mine now is reminiscent of whatever I burned the night before while trying to make dinner.
But this? This is goals.
I might just have to move Mimi in with me …
“The second tip is to work for it,” she says. “Put in the effort. Be consistent. Show her that you’re passionate and that you mean it. Go big or go home, as they say. Especially with this woman of yours. I think she needs that.”
“Done.”
“Third?” She grins with a hint of mischief. “Women love to see men with babies. It sets off something inside them that makes them start thinking about having babies, which leads to the bedroom for some hanky-panky.”
“Hey,” I say, grabbing my phone. “That’s super smart and, lucky for me, I know a lot of people who have babies.”
“Toss me that remote before you start thumbing that phone.”
I hand it to her and then go back to my messages.
Me: Hey, fam.
Jason: Hi.
Renn: Yo.
Bianca: Hey, Tate!
Me: I have a very serious favor to ask you.
Silence fills the chat. I’m about to try to re-engage them when Ripley responds.
Ripley: To ask who?
Me: All of you with a kid.
Renn:
Bianca: *gulps*
Me: I need to borrow one of them.
Jason: One of what?
Me: One of your kids.
I roll my eyes at their ineptitude. Can’t any of them follow along?
“Do you see that guy?” Mimi asks, pointing at the screen.
I glance up to see five cowboys who all look the same. “Sure. What about him?”
“Can you imagine that guy fighting with his woman about where to eat? Hell, no. He’s taking her to dinner and then back home to eat, if you know what I mean.” She smirks. “And that's what women want.”
There’s nothing I can say to that without painting a picture that does not need painted.
Renn: Yeah, hard no. But thanks.
Bianca: I’m in Florida. Sorry!
Gannon: Did Tate just ask to BORROW A BABY?
Ripley:
“Having any luck?” Mimi asks, her eyes pinned to her cowboy.
“Not yet. I’m working on it.”
“That timer should be going off any second.”
Me: I don’t need it for long. An hour, tops.
Gannon: Did you just call my daughter an “it”?
Jason: I’m so curious but too scared to ask questions.
Ripley: You can borrow Pancake and Waffles.
“Do puppies work?” I ask Mimi.
“Yes, but they aren’t as effective.”
Me: I’m happy to take them to the doggy park any time, but they won’t work for this project.
Gannon: Our children are not … You know what? I’m not having this conversation.
Me: You’re hateful.
Renn: Why do you need to borrow a baby?
Ripley: Can we go to prison if we hear this explanation?
Bianca: I don’t think so …
Me: Mimi says that women love men who have babies. Well, not men who have babies but men who hold babies.
Renn: Yeah, Arlo isn’t available to be your wingman. Good idea, though.
Me: It’s not like you need him. You already have Blakely. You’re being selfish.
The timer rings from the kitchen, and the blueberry smell grows thicker. My stomach rumbles as I get to my feet.
“My family won’t share their kids,” I say, offering my arm to Mimi. “They’re so rude.”
She loops her arm through my elbow. “I can’t give you a baby, or I would.” She shakes her head as we walk into the kitchen. “I’d give you ten babies, you little stud.”
Wow.
“Where are my oven mitts?” she asks herself as she piddles around the room.
I sit at the table and catch up on the texts.
Ripley: I’d let you borrow my kid, buddy. But I don’t have one.
Gannon: You would not.
Jason: On a serious note, we have a request for a jet for the Raptors next week. Do you still need that, Tate?
How would I know? A slow smile spreads across my lips. But I do know someone who does …
My fingers fly across the keys.
Me: No clue. Let me check on it.
Jason: Do it ASAP, please. I have to send one to pick up Mom in France on the same day. It’s a fine balance over here until all the aircraft are up and running.
Me: I’ll get back to you. The rest of you—go be stingy with your babies.
I click out of the chat before I can read their responses … and because I have a great excuse to call Aurora.
My body buzzes as I imagine hearing her voice. I wonder if she has anything to say about our conversation yesterday. Does she replay our chats like I do? Does she pick them apart to see what she might’ve missed?