And jealous.
We’re all twenty-seven, so I expected at least one little Hayes from him, since my family produce kids like we’re living in a post-apocalyptic world and we’re the only ones who can repopulate the planet.
For now, though, Cody says Blair’s busy making a name for herself in the fashion industry, and they have time. I call bullshit. I think he’s perfectly happy as favorite uncle to most of our nieces and nephews.
He’ll probably need to split his charming uncle persona further at some point; I doubt all the baby-making factories in the family are closed.
Conor says his twin chaos generators are quite enough, and seeing the mayhem they cause, I agree. Theo’s happy with two boys, as is Shawn, and Logan officially saidenoughwhen he got his daughter a little over two years ago.
That means four out of eight Hayes baby factories are closed, but I don’t think Nico’s satisfied with just one.
In my humble opinion,oneis too many for him. I take back everything I ever said about how overprotective he was toward his wife, Mia. He’s twenty times worse with his daughter.
Two gorgeous baby girls born a week apart. Logan never lets us forget that his daughter, Ava, is older than Melody by seven days, making him the first of us to father a daughter.
“Fine. Express Dates it is, but if you breathe a word—”
“We won’t,” Conor says, holding his pinky out. “Pinky promise. We won’t even mention how dumb you are as long as you give this a fair shot.”
Conor points toward the hallway. “The taxi will be here in fifteen minutes. Go pretty yourself up. We’ll be waiting outside.”
I pull off a convincing scowl, taking my beer with me as I rise to my feet. I’m not half as pissed off as I should be. Deep down, a small part of me, the part that yearns for more than casual fucks, stirs to life again.
Looks like I didn’t bury it deep enough.
TWO
Colt
WE STRIDE INTO A HIGH-END COCKTAIL BAR in the heart of Newport Beach. I check my watch: ten minutes to spare before the show begins at nine o’clock sharp. According to Cody, this isn’t the same place they held Express Dates when Logan and Nico went that one time.
Too bad, maybe that other bar had some kind of special powers.
My brothers walk a step behind, one on the left, the other on the right, like my faithful wingmen. Although... to the passive observer they might come across as low-grade goons.
I’m forward and center, which, I believe, makes me the boss.
So far, so good.
The interior design lifts my mood a little. This is my kind of scenery: luxurious yet modern. Edison-style lighting arrangements, hanging low above the polished wooden tables, cast a warm glow over emerald-green velvet furnishings.
We navigate through the busy crowd toward the bar at the back. There’s no line, and save for three overdressed women in their prime, the stools stand empty.
If they’re here for the Express Dates, I’m fucked.
They look at least twice my age.
“You think they’re participating?” I ask Cody in a hushed voice, motioning toward the pearl-loving, silver-haired trio.
Cody’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. “Possibly, but not in the group you’re signed up for. From what the guy said over the phone, they divide the participants into age categories—twenties, thirties, and golden-oldies. If you’re ever curious, they host something like this for swingers on Sundays.”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I share my imaginary wife?” I clip, snatching the ice-cold beer Conor’s got me.
My gaze sweeps the room, my attention stolen by a group of stunning girls near the entrance. They look about my age, which is promising. Especially since they all seem to radiate the kind of confidence I enjoy: chins high, calculating eyes... a bit of an attitude, I bet.
Too bad they pale under closer scrutiny.
The overdone makeup marring their faces isn’t my thing. Ever since I met Mia, I started noticing girls who prefer a natural look, and found I prefer it too.
