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I huffed out a breath of annoyance and tightened my hold on the baby. “Get fucked.”
He gasped, placing his hand over his heart in mock outrage. “Such language in front of the baby!”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. The absurdity of the situation was too much. Here I was, holding a baby I was half-convinced would spontaneously combust at any moment, and Rhett was making jokes.
“Here, you take him then,” I said, trying to pass the baby over to him. Maybe if he held the little bundle of joy, he’d understand what I was going through.
Rhett’s eyes went wide, and he backed away, looking legitimately panicked. With his hands held up in surrender. “Oh no, not me. Only a lunatic would let me anywhere near a baby.”
“Jackass.”
He was about to retort when the baby let out a soft coo, his little eyes fluttering open. For a moment, we both just stared at him, and then Rhett did something that completely threw me off balance.
He reached out and gently brushed the baby’s cheek with the back of his finger. It was so unexpected, so at odds with the Rhett I thought I knew, that I couldn’t think of a single snarky comment to make.
Rhett caught my eye and grinned, his usual cocky demeanor firmly back in place. “Babies are fucking weird.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossible to resist, maybe.” The photographer called for the wedding party to step out to the garden for official photos, which was Rhett’s cue. Which left me with a little baby and a weird fluttering feeling in my chest.
CHAPTER 12
Rhett
All the boring wedding stuff was over - the photos, the speeches, having to talk to all the boring people. Now the party had started, and it was time to have some fun. Which, of course, meant hunting Scarlett down and seeing how long it would take me to get those blue eyes flashing.
She was standing next to a giant urn that was overflowing with flowers, looking so good it made my heart flip a little.
“Did I mention that your tits look amazing in that dress?” There was no lie, either. Her tits really did look amazing in the silky, floral, off the shoulder dress she wore.
“What a sweet and romantic thing to say.”
“Dance with me.”
“How can I resist your charming conversation? Really, no wonder all the women fall at your feet.”
I led her onto the dance floor and pulled her into my arms. “You weren’t thinking about my charming conversation last night.”
“Lucky for me, you let your dick do all the talking.”
Christ, this woman. The way the skirt flared at her hips and then draped to just below her knees made me want to bend her over, flip the skirt up, and fuck her into oblivion. Then tear the dress off and leave her in just those four inch black stilettos and do her all over again.
“What on earth are you thinking about?”
I told her. Without leaving out any details. The way she shot a furtive look around made me grin. “Relax. No one can hear us.”
“Well, you still shouldn’t say shit like that in public.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not!”
“Oh, so you’re turned on, then.”
“Maybe a little.”
My pulse leaped at the admission, and I pulled her closer.