She’s across the room, helping set up the story time for L J Bowan, a famous children’s fantasy book author that my mother introduced me to earlier.

The room is packed full of kids and their parents.

I have no issues with public speaking. I’ve done it so many times in my life that it’s second nature. Business meetings, award galas, keynote addresses, but reading a children’s book in this intimate setting is suddenly making me sweat.

It’s not the kids or the camera that have me worked up. It’s that I want to impress Chloe. If the entire crowd clears out when I get up there, I’ll feel like an idiot.

“I’m a lucky man,” I finally respond, ignoring the knots in my stomach.

She nods. “And how’s everything going with Fred?” Our eyes connect and her eyebrows lift. She’s never asked about deals before, but then again none have been this important to me.

“It’s almost done.” I think back to earlier this week and Chloe’s nail debacle. While seeing Chloe naked and making her come have been the benefits of her manicure from Frankie, those nails were ridiculous and they’re something we’ll be laughing about for years to come.

Years to come. My brain is on a runaway train with thoughts and images of life with Chloe.

I swallow hard.

“I’m happy for you, Barrett.” My mother squeezes my arm. “And proud. I know that’s what you’ve been working hard for.”

“Thank you.”

“And I know your father would have been proud, too.”

I nod. That means a lot. It’s the reason why I’ve been working so hard all these years to put SCM on top. To honor my father’s legacy. I’m realizing that I want a legacy of my own. It has nothing to do with business and everything to do with Chloe.

24. Chloe

CHAPTER 24

Chloe

The only thing sexier than a man reading a book is a man reading a book to a child. A sweet little redhead toddled up to Barrett and plopped herself down in his lap during his story time reading. He glanced down at her for a moment, shifted the book to keep it in the camera frame and continued on. How the hell am I supposed to resist that? It’s not possible. I don’t even want to try.

I’m so entranced with Barrett’s story time delivery that I barely notice Emma approach.

“He must have a thing for redheads,” she says, her gaze on Barrett and the little girl.

“I really like him,” I gush. I’m a cartoon character with hearts for eyes. “Like a lot.”

She laughs. “He’s your boyfriend, that’s normal.”