Did they normally do this kind of shit?
He tried to picture himself doing the same thing that Ky was doing. Playing with his kid on a playground.
Like a normal parent.
Not that he’d ever be “normal.” Normal was fucking boring.
Maybe they’d have to build a playground on club property, or maybe even in the DAMC’s over-55 senior community that would be better named a retirement village. He was surprised the OGs hadn’t traded in their badass bikes for golf carts already.
At least one of those two locations would be more secure than having his kid out in the open where anyone could cause shit or possibly snag him.
Hearing “Are you a parent?” had him turning his head toward the source of a high-pitched, whiny voice.
He frowned when he saw a finger being jabbed in his direction.
“Why are you sitting here alone and watching children? Are you a pervert? I’m going to call the police. You don’t belong here.”
For fuck’s sake.He couldn’t even sit in a fucking park in peace.
He wasn’t even near a kid. Not even his own.
The bottle-blonde woman—not even a five on a scale of one to ten—had one of those double strollers. The kind someone owned when they had popped out twins or was squeezing out rugrats one after the other.
He shrugged. “Go ahead. Call the pigs. Ain’t doin’ shit wrong. Last I checked, this is a goddamn public space.”
The woman gasped and slapped a hand to her chest. She was about to catch some fucking flies in her gaping hole, maybe even bust a blood vessel.
Good.
Nosy fucking bitch.
“No need for that language,” she hissed.
“No fuckin’ need for you to be flappin’ your lips at me.”
“You look sketchy.”
“And you look like a cunt. Feel sorry for the man who knocked you the fuck up.”
She gasped again.
He smiled, then sat back and crossed his arms over his cut and turned his attention to the natural blonde on the playground whowasnota five.
Fuck no. Four years and one kid later, she was still a fucking twelve.
“Well, I…you…” the woman sputtered before shrieking, “Pervert!” and rushing away.
The bitch thoughtthatwas an insult? Fucking amateur.
His fingers itched to light up a cigarette or joint, but Kyra might have a problem with Ledger seeing his old man smoke.
Not that he knew Zeke was his old man. Yet. But Zeke was determined to rush that along. It would probably help his case if he was on his best behavior.
A snort exploded from him.
His attention locked on Ky—and her ass—again as she helped Ledger climb up the steps to a big, green plastic slide. After he slid to the bottom, laughing the whole way, she squatted down and said something close to his ear.
The way his son looked at his mother made his heart ache even more.
