It's Always Complicated (Her Billionaires Book 4) (6 page)

“Ba!” Adam mimicked, following behind like a man on stilts on the deck of a listing ship.
Whump
. He went down on his bum, then pressed his palms into the ground, butt up, body next, and the toddling resumed.

Laura looked down at her wrecked dress.

“
New fashion statement
?” she muttered to herself. “Did he really just say that? Sure. Skid mark bride.” She snorted.

“Uh,” said a deep voice behind her. She whirled around to find her nose in Mike’s chest. “Is that a new kink I’ve never heard of?”

The bubble of giggles that exploded in her throat made her nose bounce against a button on his shirt. Laura’s foul mood instantly lifted as she looked up to find kind, loving eyes capturing hers.

Eyes so much like Jillian’s.

As Mike pulled her into a warm embrace, Laura closed her eyes and let herself enjoy it. With the wedding preparations in overdrive, she lived on adrenaline, cortisol, coffee and hope these days. She was a live wire inside a flesh body.

One that didn’t fit her wedding dress.

“I am guessing Jillian had another culinary creation with that oven Josie and Alex gave her for her birthday?” Mike murmured in her ear, his own deep, rumbling chuckle making it impossible for her not to join in and extend her laughter.

“And the boys found their share,” she said into his chest.

“Hey! Water stays in the bathtub! Don’t pour it out onto the floor!” Dylan called out, clearly struggling to contain at least one errant child in the tub.

Jillian ran past Laura, completely naked, her princess wand’s ribbon trailing her. Laura peeked down the hallway to see a very wet, naked Adam toddling away. She pulled back to retrieve him, but Dylan popped out of the bathroom, scooped him up, and was back with Aaron in one second.

“Jeeeeee!” she heard Aaron—or was it Adam?—squeal as Jillian must have joined her brothers in the tub.

“Wine?” Mike whispered. “We could open a bottle of
m
erlot and sneak out onto the deck and pretend we never heard Dylan’s call for help.”

“What call for help?” Laura asked, puzzled.

“Can’t I get some help in here?” Dylan boomed.

“Predicted it,” Mike said. She looked up. His eyebrow was quirked. He lowered his voice. “If we tiptoe away, we can—”

“I know you’re out there and can hear me! If you ditch me for wine again, I’m gonna feed the twins garlic hummus again before leaving them with you for the day, Mike.”

Laura felt Mike tense, then sigh. Parenting was so glamourous. When had threatening diaper bombs via garlic hummus had become a viable tactic to strong-arm Mike for help?

When Dylan had figured out it
worked
.

“So much for a nice glass of red wine,” he groused.

“We have the honeymoon,” she soothed. Their nanny, Cyndi, and her niece, Ellie, would take the kids for a week while Mike, Laura and Dylan spent a week in Paris. Laura was so excited she felt like she could burst. The three of them had never, ever had a trip without kids. She’d gotten pregnant with Jillian by accident so soon after meeting Mike and Dylan, and now that the twins slept through the night (mostly), they felt it would work well.

Besides, Dylan’s parents were staying at the cabin after the wedding, and would be a crucial set of hands to help. Between Cyndi, her niece, and Dylan’s parents, they had it covered. Four adults for three kids should be enough.

Right?

Right?

“In three days!” he protested, but guided her toward the bathroom. As they turned and peered in the door, she realized quickly that Dylan’s single set of hands was most definitely not enough for three kids.

He was, to put it bluntly, soaking wet, clothes and all, standing in the bathroom doorway and shooting daggers at both of them.

“You jump in with the kids?” Mike asked.

“Not wet by choice,” Dylan answered through gritted teeth.

Mike’s booming laugh made Laura’s toes curl.

“They triple-teamed me!”

“Three toddlers outsmarted you?” Laura joked.

“Not surprised,” Mike muttered.

 “Hey!” Dylan snapped, shaking his wet head. “Who gave Jillian that half-gallon pitcher to pour with?”

Mike stopped laughing and suddenly pretended he was anywhere but here.

“
You
take over,” Dylan announced, reaching for the hem of his shirt and pulling it up, exposing gloriously cut abs and a chest that still made Laura go weak in the knees when she saw it naked. Her pulse quickened at the sight, and her throat went dry.

Other parts became distinctly wet.

Dylan caught her eye, then did a double take as her eyes lingered over him, giving his body a visual once-over that left her flushed and heated.

“Like what you see?”

“Love it.”

“Hey!” Mike barked. “You’re sniping my girl!” He and Dylan changed places, Mike peeking in on the kids in the tub, half attuned to the adult conversation and half focused on the kids who were three feet away.

“She was mine first!” Dylan retorted. The joke never got old.

“Yeah, well, you may have found her, but she
stayed
because of me,” Mike shot back.

“Not true! My incredible good looks and firefighter body was what—”

SPLASH!

A wall of water appeared around Mike’s back, like a giant wave crested from behind.

“Daddy’s wet now!” Jillian squealed, holding an empty pitcher. “We’re giving Daddy a baf, too!” Two rubber duckies bounced off Mike’s shoulders, going in erratic patterns as giggles poured out from the bathroom behind him.

Dylan’s laughter could be heard all the way from their Massachusetts cabin to the top of Mount Monadnock in New Hampshire.

Mike closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, an old pattern Laura knew he used to remain calm. The edges of his shirt were clinging to his hips, and a wet spot spread from behind, up his crotch area. Jillian’s “baf” had hit his midsection dead-on.

And then:

“EEWWWW! Daddy! Aaron’s peeing in the baftub! Stop it, Aaron! Pee pee goes in the potty! Not in the tub!” Jillian screeched, appearing at Mike’s knee and yanking on his hand. “Aaron’s peeing on my mermaid toy again! Make him stop, Daddy!”

Mike’s face was a mask of attempted Zen.

He failed.

Dylan unbuckled his wet pants and stood before her, clad only in boxer briefs, leering at Laura. She was torn.

Hot partner wanting sex

or

Help with three toddlers in the tub?

Not a hard decision for most people.

And then Jilly decided her fate for her.

“Papa! Mama’s the only one who isn’t wet.” Jilly used her princess wand to point. “I’m wet. Aaron’s wet. Adam’s wet. Daddy’s wet. But you’re not!” She gave Laura such a sweet look that it was inconceivable that Laura would look away.

But she did. For self-preservation’s sake.

Dylan and Mike managed to change expressions to the exact same mischievous look at the
exact
same time, split seconds before Laura could sprint away.

Someone’s impossibly-strong arms grabbed her and lifted her. All she saw was the ceiling. Her fists were ineffective against the wall of muscle that carried her, then gently dropped her into the giant
J
acuzzi tub in the bathroom where Adam sat, sweetly, in a foot of water, playing with a plastic dolphin.

Laura was soaked, wedding dress and all.

“There,” Jillian declared, smiling. “Now we’re all wet. We match! We’re one big, wet, happy family.”

Yes
, Laura thought, as Adam stood and began peeing in the water next to her and she jumped in the air to get out fast.
Yes, we are
.

* * *

“And then,” Laura said into the phone as she unpeeled yet another cheese stick wrapper for one of the kids, “Adam stood up and started peeing in the tub while I was—”

“STOP!” Josie yelled back. “I am never going to want children if you keep this up!”

“It’s not always like this,” Laura protested, but weakly. Actually, it was often like this. Minus being peed on.

Okay, it
truthfully
involved being peed on a lot more than she’d imagined before having kids....

Maybe she really did need to stop talking about raising kids with Josie. She wanted Alex and Josie to join the parenthood club with her, biology willing. Alex was more than ready, and with the wedding coming in two days, Josie’s excuses were falling apart.

“Laura, I know what parenting’s like. I pretty much parented Darla from the age of four until I left for college.”

Laura didn’t know what to say, because the truth in that statement made her feel so bad for Josie.

“Let’s talk about something more cheerful.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that my mother’s been charged with public indecency and possibly some sort of federal crime for having sex with two hot hockey players in an airplane bathroom on her flight from Ohio to the wedding.”

Laura dropped the cheese stick on the ground. Adam toddled over, picked it up, and started gnawing on it.

Five second rule
, Laura thought absentmindedly.

“Could—could you repeat that, Josie? I don’t think I quite heard you right.”

“My mom fucked two college hockey players in an airplane bathroom,” Josie said slowly.

“Okay,” Laura said faintly. “I did hear you right the first time.”

“See? I’d rather be peed on than deal with this shit. Hell, I’d rather have Darla glue her anus to my bathroom wall again than watch my mother’s naked body come through the luggage carousel at the Portland airport.”

Laura’s eyes bugged out of her head. “That
happened
?”

“Haven’t you been watching the news?” Josie asked, her voice filled with incredulity.

“Cyndi got food poisoning. We’re on our own this week. I don’t have time to read the back of a cereal box or watch anything on television other than Bubble Guppies, so no. No, I haven’t been watching the news.”

“Well, my mom got her fifteen minutes of fame.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Meribeth’s been great, though. We’re in Portland making some final decisions about flowers before we head up north to the campground.” Josie’s voice sounded weird. Laura couldn’t put her finger on it.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m juggling last-minute questions about chocolate flavors for the dipping fountain along with calls from bail bondsmen, Laura. No. Not okay.”

Laura sighed, the sound meant to convey sympathy. “I wish I were in Portland with you.”

“When do you guys leave?”

“Tomorrow. Cyndi got food poisoning and we’ll come tomorrow. She’ll head up the next day, assuming she’s still on the mend.”

“And if she’s not?”

“We’ll postpone Paris.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Me, too, but what else can we do? Dylan’s parents aren’t able to handle all three kids alone. The kids are super-attached to Cyndi, and it’ll be hard enough for them to have me, Mike and Dylan gone for a week. I’d rather lose our hotel and plane ticket money for bailing at the last minute than spend all our time on our honeymoon worrying about the kids.”

“I get it. I really do.”

Josie sounded so...deflated.

Laura sat up.

“I’m coming. Now.”

“I really don’t need to know this much about your sex life.”

“WHAT?” Laura’s brain shifted gears until she got the joke. “Ha ha.” At least this was more like the old Josie Laura knew. “I mean I’m getting in the car this afternoon and coming to Portland. Now. Mike and the guys can follow.”

“You—what?”

“You need a friend.”

“I need a good defense lawyer for my mom.”

“Sorry. I never went to law school. Can’t be a lawyer. I know how to be a good friend, though.”

“You know how to be a
great
friend.”

Laura could feel Josie’s smile through the phone, and that meant Josie was right.

Laura was a great friend.

“So give me a few hours to explain it all to the guys and the kids, pack up, and get on the road. What hotel are you at in Portland?”

Josie named a nice, upscale boutique hotel on the water that Laura had heard of. “I’ll reserve you a room,” Josie said. “And we can go out to dinner. Did you know there’s a store here where they sell nothing but flavored pop?”

“Flavored popsicles?”

“No. Pop. You know...soda.” Josie’s midwestern roots showed sometimes.

“Can’t wait to get there and see.”

“Hey, Laura?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. You—it’s like you can read my mind and figure out exactly what I need. Only there’s no sex involved.”

“Um, I guess that’s a compliment?”

“It is.”

“You’re so weird, Josie.”

“I know.”

“I like weird.”

“As if you have a choice.”

Laura hummed as she got off the phone, and as she turned around to go find Mike and Dylan, she was greeted by a trail of cheese stick wrappers. Following it, she found all three kids sitting in a toy bin, the toys scattered everywhere, Jillian clutching a
48-
pack of cheese sticks that now held one.

One.

It had been full when Laura opened it fifteen minutes ago.

“Where are all the cheese sticks?” Laura asked her.

Jillian pointed to her mouth, Adam’s mouth, and Aaron’s mouth. All three looked like chipmunks stuffing their cheeks for winter. Laura looked behind the couch. About fifteen cheese sticks rested on the ground, like cream-colored Lincoln Logs.

“Jilly, no!” Laura took the bag from her daughter, snatched up all the cheese sticks from behind the couch, and began counting. Seventeen accounted for.

How had three children eaten thirty-one cheese sticks so fast?

Dylan shouted from the other room: “Why are there cheese sticks in the heating grate and
oh, God,
are those my car keys again?”

Big, fat tears filled Jillian’s eyes. She said nothing. Adam and Aaron chewed. Adam grinned at Laura.

“I sorry, Mama.”

“You can’t do this, Jillian.” Laura shook the bag of cheese sticks.

“I wanted to help. Aaron was hungry.”