Page 6 of Just Like That

“Everything all right?” Royal’s eyes raked over me.

“I have to go—that was Whip. Apparently some kid at the fire station thinks I’m his dad.” The muscles in my jaw flexed, and a hammering throb pounded behind my eyes. Without looking back, I stormed down the sidewalk in the direction of the fire station. “I do not have time for this bullshit.”

By the timeI got to the fire station, my feet were fucking killing me. Twelve hundred dollars for Bontoni Italian designer shoes and I was still losing circulation to my pinkie toes.

I should buy the company and sell it off piece by piece, simply for the inconvenience.

I flicked away the rogue thought and came up short when the small gathering in front of the fire station came into view.

My sister Sylvie was standing next to Whip. Concern pitched her brows forward as she whispered something to him.

Lee Sullivan was there with his ever-present, shit-eating grin. He was enjoying every second of whatever was unfolding, and I had a feeling it would come back to bite me in the ass if I didn’t tread lightly.

Beside him, a little kid was prattling on and keeping his attention.

As I approached, my eyes snagged on a pair of long, smooth legs peeking out of dangerously short denim cutoffs. Legs that seemed to go on forever before flaring out into full hips and a tight, round ass. The woman’s hair flowed down her back in wild yet pale strawberry blond waves. The unique color reminded me of an expensive French Rosé Belle champagne as it swung across her back.

Her tank top scooped low over impossibly perky breasts in a way that screameddistracting. Her soft brown eyes swept my way, locking onto my face. Every cell in my body sparked and sputtered as they tried to ignite but groaned from neglect. I couldn’t even recall the last time I’d had sex, and there was no way in hell I’d forget being with a woman who looked likeher.

Relief flooded my system.

Clearly there was a misunderstanding and I could be back to the office in a matter of minutes. All I had to do was make yet another problem go away, and I’d be done with it.

I folded my hands in front of me as I stood in front of the mismatched group waiting outside the fire station.

The pretty redhead’s eyes widened, and I cleared my throat as a sudden shot of nerves hit me. Clearly I’d been more out of practice than I remembered.

I turned my attention to my brother Whip. “You called?”

His eyes bounced between the mystery woman and me. He must have been expecting some kind of spark of recognition, but the only spark I was feeling currently resided behind my zipper.

The kid stepped between us, his small hand raised in the air for a handshake. “Hello.”

I slowly took his hand in mine and shook. “Hello.”

“My name is Theodore Adams. You are my father.” He was so sure of himself it was almost endearing.

“Uh ... hi. I’m JP King.” A soft chuckle rumbled out of me as we awkwardly shook hands. “I’m afraid you’re misinformed. I assure you, I am not your father.”

The sheer ridiculousness of it was laughable. No one would ever be so cursed as to have me as a father.

I had always been careful.

A light scoff puffed out of the redhead’s nose as she stepped forward, gently placing her hand on the kid’s forearm, breaking our handshake. “Teddy ...”

Her whisper was husky and thick. Instant desire ran through me, and my mind wandered before I could shut it down. I wanted to soak her in and discover if her laugh was as rich and thick as her whisper. I suddenly wanted to know everything about the mystery woman in front of me.

The boy frowned at the woman, and she shook her head. “Bro, come on.” She shrugged. “You needed a better opener.”

Bro?

The woman guided Teddy beside her as she adjusted the strap of her oversize purse and lifted her warm, brown eyes.

Whip suppressed a smile before jumping in. “I caught Teddy here trying to climb into the Safe Souls baby box.”

My gaze flicked to the kid. He had dark hair and sharp bluish-green eyes, just like me. He was a good dresser—I’d give him that—but there was no way in hell he could be my kid.

He had to be what? Five? Seven? Hell, I couldn’t tell.