Page 8 of My Ex’s Dad (Scandalous Billionaires #1)

“Corporeal punishment works wonders,” Granny suggests, not so helpfully. I silently debate the merits of putting my hand over her mouth, but she can do this crazy trick with her dentures, and I don’t want them snapping out and biting me.

For the first time, Warrick’s composure cracks, and something close to raw hurt seeps through for an instant before he gets himself under control. “I wasn’t…I didn’t really…it’s complicated, but I’m not really in his life.”

“Ahh. In that case, you should go for it, Malfi. I give it the two old lady thumbs up and a full granny greenlight.”

“For the love of—” I gasp.

“Don’t say thugs. I’ve had enough of those for one day.”

“Meatloaf,” I finish.

Granny’s bushy white brows scrunch down on her forehead, and her wild white curls fluff out around her face, ruffled by the slight breeze. It’s not close to being fully dark out here, thanks to summer. Those thugs didn’t have the nerve to wait until proper thug hours.

“Not that either. I know what I’m missing out on. I can practically taste it,” Granny says.

“I’m also here to repay all the money that was stolen from all of you,” Warrick interrupts. “I’ll even throw in an extra bit for all your trouble.”

“Don’t forget terror and lack of meatloaf,” Granny huffs with her denture lisp.

“I’ll find the best meatloaf in the city and get it sent your way,” Warrick promises.

Then, he turns to face me, frowning a certain style of frown that makes him look three thousand and six percent more attractive than he should.

“Aside from apologies, you asked me for a job. I feel it’s only right that I offer you a position. ”

“I don’t know anything about—”

“My housekeeper recently quit,” Warrick interrupts. “And I haven’t hired anyone else yet. It would be a live-in position with room and board. Four thousand dollars a month.”

“Oh my god. That’s…”

“I’m trying to be fair. The house is large. It requires a lot of dusting.”

Fuck all the ducks. Four grand a month to clean what’s probably an already spanking clean home? Earlier, I was worried about not knowing a thing about refrigeration, but I can handle my way around a mop and broom. “I’d dust all the places for that kind of money. I mean…erm…”

“Not your meatloaf,” Granny deadpans.

No, wait. She’s serious.

Everyone still groans.

“I also have a pool,” Warrick pushes out thickly.

He has to swallow. Twice. At least he’s not standing in my shoes, choking on oxygen and trying to be subtle about it.

“The accommodation will be the pool house, which is small and nothing fancy, but it does have its own kitchen and bathroom, as well as two bedrooms.”

Uhhh, and here I thought pool houses were for storing chemicals.

Mom is clearly thinking the same, imagining me jamming myself in next to a bunch of containers of chlorine. Do rich people even use chlorine in their pools? I thought it was all salt now. “We don’t want her in a dangerous situation.”

Dad steps forward and narrows his eyes. “This is in Harrisburg, correct?”

“He lives in Pittsburgh, Dad.”

My mom’s eyes practically roll back, and I can see my dad getting ready to have a coronary. Granny clacks her teeth together, waving a hand dismissively at both of them.

“Pssssh. The girl is twenty-four years old. She’s more than capable of moving three hours away.

You can see her on the interweb if you need to chat face to face every day.

She wants to go to college. This is a good opportunity for her to be able to save up some money.

In a year, she’ll have enough to afford a few years of community college and a small apartment at the same time, plus she can always work part-time to supplement that or do part of her classes online. ”

There’s a long, awkward, extra drawn-out pause.

Warrick just stands there, giving nothing away with his face carefully blank but still so attractive that it’s like a punch to the throat and the nipples at the same time.

My brain traces the pattern of all things kink, conjuring up an image of nipple clamps and his beard scraping over my skin.

I can literally feel myself heating up, my face going scarlet.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my goddddddddd.

This will never work if I’m a dad fucker, even if it’s just in my head. This is Reginald’s father. Total no-go.

“It would be a good reference,” Granny urges.

I know I can defer and ask Warrick for more time to think, but honestly?

I don’t need more time. Four grand a month is a lot of money.

It’s my dream to be able to afford to go to college.

My parents weren’t in a position to help me, and I didn’t want to be drowning in student loans.

I’ll do something at night or pick community college, but even still, it’s expensive.

In all my years of waitressing, which I’ve been doing part-time and then full-time since I was sixteen, I haven’t saved up what I could make in a year working for Warrick.

Plus, there aren’t overhead expenses I’ll have to pay out. My room and food are included.

“Alright.” I nearly give myself a jump scare by saying it out loud. I’m still way too up in my head. “I need at least ten days to pack up my apartment, give notice, and get myself situated. Would that work?”

“Whatever you need,” Warrick assures me.

He’s being too nice. Is it guilt? It would be soooo never-endingly awkward if this were purely his conscience kicking in. Then again, I’d take it even if it was based on guilt and pity galore.

“Excellent.” Granny slaps her cane against the doorframe, but then she gives Warrick the fierce grandmother stink eye. “You had best keep things professional around my granddaughter. No spanking the meatloaf in her presence. She’s a lady.”

Mom makes a muffled noise of horror, Dad groans, and I wilt on the spot, wishing my one chosen superpower could be invisibility.

“No meatloaf. Ever,” Warrick swears solemnly.

“He’s my ex’s dad!” I have to point it out, just in case Granny missed that little detail.

“Ex being the keyword in that statement,” she snarks back instead.

It’s time for this conversation to be more than over. “Thank you for coming here,” I tell Warrick. “We all could have been wearing concrete footwear at this point.”

“It could have been a whole lot worse than that. I was watching this movie…”

“Mom, please,” Dad grinds out, nearing the end of his tether. “Let’s go inside and sort all this out over another cup of tea, and then we’ll get you back to the nursing home.”

“Order in some great meatloaf. My treat.” Warrick passes Granny a fifty.

Her eyes light up, and she gives him the special, flirty smile that she busts out in select moments. “I’ve been thinking about going by G-ma. Hortense’s grandchildren call her that, and I think it shaves off at least a good ten years, no?”

“Sounds great.” I flash Granny a smile even though I am never calling her G-ma. Zero way. Unless she really wants me to. Try disappointing your grandma. It’s far worse than doing it to your mother.

I give Warrick a forced smile as well, eager to be back in the house to sort out my very complicated feelings about everything that just happened here tonight.

“Thank you again. I’ll…uh…how should I call you? Or where should I report for duty?” I close my eyes. Could that sound any more ridiculous?

He passes me a business card that he takes out of his wallet. The thing has gold freaking edges. I glance at the company name. I already know it, but the urge to smile for real and do it like a loon is, well…real.

Chillin’ Like a Villian Refrigeration. Then, in smaller letters, their little tagline, which says, “We’re the coolest cats around.”

It’s official. That name wins everything. It sounds so silly, but I could probably melt this card down and have enough gold to produce actual wearable jewelry.

“Just call when you’re ready to start, and I’ll give you my home address. I can always be reached at that number.”

Honestly, I respect this man’s dedication to his privacy. I respect his freaking bad boy, bearded, hottie DILF persona too.

Get. A. Motherlovin. Grip.

Dadlovin’.

Ha.

If my brain could just not have the emotional intelligence of a snarky teenager, that would be great. Apparently, though, it’s on board with my hormones, and they are all about hornytown.

“Meatloaf time, baby!” Granny’s announcement ushers us all back into the house.

Thank goodness, or I would have just stayed out there oohing and fawning and boiling in my own juices (see, this is why I really have to just full stop) for a good while yet.

None of us watch Warrick get in his car and leave. Mom doesn’t even try to peek through the blinds. We’ve all had enough adventure for the night.

Crap might be settled for the moment, but I know that where adventure is concerned, mine is just starting.

Operation Resist Super Hot Dad You Cannot Under Any Circumstances Have, Salivate Over, or Want is just starting.