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A rare smile broke out on Colt’s face. As those strong arms wrapped around the little girl, I couldn’t look away. I felt weird flutters in my belly.
When he smiled, Colt was devastatingly handsome.
“I missed you, short stuff.”
I backed out of the room, waving at Lola—Daisy’s nanny, and the Fury brothers’ housekeeper. The gray-haired woman cooked and cleaned for all the Fury brothers. Colt had four brothers who between them all owned this entire block of the Warehouse District in New Orleans. They all had their homes and businesses in the area.
I glanced at Colt and Daisy. It was another far too attractive thing about Colton. He was an amazing single father. He adored Daisy, and she adored him back.
Did men know how sexy it was to see them being good dads? I shook my head, then sat back at my desk.
It was really, really lucky I’d sworn off men.
My phone rang and I picked it up. “Colton Fury’s office.”
Silence.
My hand tightened. “Hello?”
I felt a little shiver of unease. This was the fourth call like this in only two days. I could sense someone on the line.
“When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be waiting.” I set the phone down and shrugged.
Life was too short to worry about things. That was my mom’s motto.Have fun, find adventures, and regret nothing, Macy Moo.
I did my best to live up to her words every day.
2
COLT
Well, Lenny proved to be as predictable as always.
As I stomped into the dive bar in Mid-City, I spotted a disheveled Lenny Bridges cradling his half-finished beer at the bar. It didn’t look like it was his first by the way he was swaying.
I stopped behind him. “Lenny, time to go.”
“Fury?” He turned, eyeing me blearily. “Oh, man. Can I finish my beer?”
“No.” I pulled him off his stool and looked at the bartender. The grizzled guy looked like he’d seen it all, and it bored him. “He paid?”
The man shook his head. “Nope.”
I shook Lenny. “Pay.”
Lenny frowned, patting his pockets. “Um, I don’t got no money.”
With a sigh, I pulled out my wallet and dropped some cash on the bar. Then I hauled Lenny past the pool table toward the door.
“You puke in my truck again, Lenny, and we’ll have issues.”
My target’s answer was a loud burp. A biker babe holding a pool cue stepped in front of us.
“Hi there, big guy.”
My scowl deepened. I didn’t like her calling me that. Only Macy called me that. I didn’t like it when she did it. Mostly.
The woman had big hair, as black as my boots, and a skintight skirt that had left short behind two inches ago. Her red tube top clung to her assets with luck and a prayer.
