The Girl with my Heart (Summer Unplugged #8) (8 page)

After breakfast, Bayleigh and I play with Jett on a blanket in the middle of the living room floor. I’m the best at making him laugh with my goofy faces and silly noises, but Bayleigh wins him over every other time. He reaches up for her and watches her when she walks around the apartment, his little blue eyes following her wherever she goes.

Everything about these last few hours has been completely perfect. The three of us, a new family, playing and laughing. Watching our son grow and learn and push up on his little hands to get a better view of the world. I’m a little jealous that Bay gets to do this all day every day and I’m only free a few hours here and there between work. I am definitely going to set up a baby room at the new track.

Speaking of…

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute about something work related?” I ask as I wag a soft rattle in front of Jett’s face. Bayleigh is in the kitchen getting us sodas and she hands me one and then sits next to me on the floor.

“Sure, what’s up?”

Rather than think of an insightful and intelligent way to ask if it’s cool that I spend a ton of our money on a business venture, I just start blurting out words. “So Park and I have been talking a lot about our careers and stuff and—”

My phone rings loudly from the coffee table. Bay is closer to it than I am and she looks over, her eyebrows drawing together. “It’s Mr. Fisher.”

“Screw that, it’s my day off,” I say, waving a hand dismissively. Jett grabs the rattle and puts it in his mouth. “So anyway,” I start again, only to have my phone begin ringing immediately after the first call went to voicemail.

“Maybe you should answer that…” she says. She hands me the phone.

I sigh and answer the call. “Hello?”

“Everything okay?” Mr. Fisher’s voice sounds strung out and a little annoyed.

“Uh yeah,” I say, playing with Jett’s rattle as I talk. “Why?”

“Then why the hell aren’t you at work?”

Panic hits me cold and hard. “What?”

Mr. Fisher sighs into the phone. “I’ve got Ricky and Brett over here waiting over an hour for you to show up for their lesson. I damn near thought you had died or something.”

“Shit.” I jump to my feet and rush toward my bedroom to get dressed. “I had no idea they had an appointment. This is supposed to be my off day.”

“Son, you’ve got a good reputation here but you can’t start forgetting appointments like this.”

“I know, trust me I know,” I say as I scramble into the closet and grab some clothes. Bay meets me at our bedroom door, holding Jett on her hip. A concerned expression appears on her face.

“You okay?” she mouths.

I nod and switch the phone to my other ear. “I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say.

“You better.” Mr. Fisher hangs up the phone without even saying goodbye.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter under my breath and toss my phone to the bed.

“What’s going on?” Bay asks. “And why are you getting dressed? I thought we were going to hang out today?”

I shake my head. “Apparently I have an appointment with the Shearling kids today and I’m already an hour late.”

“How’d that happen?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I grab my phone and rush toward the front door, sliding into the shoes I left in the foyer. “I swear this is my day off. Must have gotten something mixed up.”

“Your schedule isn’t that hard to understand,” Bay says, handing me my truck keys. “How long will this take?”

I sigh. The Shearling kids usually train back to back two hour sessions, but if I tell her that now it’ll ruin the rest of her day. “I don’t know,” I say. “Hopefully not too long.”

“Okay well, I love you.” Bay frowns and I grab her around the waist and kiss her hard. I miss her and Jett already. This is such bullshit.

As I head outside and climb in my truck, I mentally scan over everything that happened when I was last at work. I remember being happy that I had Saturday off and calling Bayleigh to plan a day together with her. I clearly and distinctly remember checking my schedule and seeing that it was empty.

My heartbeat quickens as I think back to yesterday when I highlighted the entire day on the calendar in a blue highlighter and wrote the words
Spend the day w/Bayleigh
across the date.

This isn’t my fault. I didn’t forget about a client. Someone scheduled the Shearling appointment without telling me and they set it for a day they knew I was planning to take off.

My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. There’s only one person who has access to my schedule besides me. And now she’s fucking up my work life in addition to my home life.

I draw in a deep breath and grit my teeth. I no longer care who her father is and what he’s done for our motocross park.

She’s fucking fired.

Ricky and Brett are fourteen year old twins who are kicking ass in the local motocross scene, thanks to training from yours truly. The kids sit on the tailgate of their dad’s truck, drinking Gatorade and looking bored as hell when I pull up beside them. I shut the engine and dive out of my truck, nearly forgetting to close the door behind me.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say in a rush of slurred words as I jog up to Mr. Shearling, a stout and insanely rich lawyer from Houston.

He’s giving me a shit look but he just huffs. “At least you got here.”

“You kids ready?” I call out to the boys. To their dad I say, “Who’d you make your appointment with? I had my schedule cleared for today.”

Mr. Shearling runs a hand through his balding brown hair and shrugs. “Some woman answered when I called your office. Said you’d be happy to see us today.”

“She no longer works for me and she never actually did,” I say, knowing it’s not much of an excuse to a paying customer. “I’m really sorry about this delay.”

“Just get their lap times down and I won’t worry about it,” he says with a hearty chuckle.

I smile even though I’m seething about Natalie on the inside. “Will do, sir.”

Two hours later when I’ve made damn sure that Ricky and Brett’s lap times are down fifteen seconds each,  I head into my office in the main building. The lobby’s lights are off since Mixon Motocross Park is technically closed on Saturdays, save for special appointments. Mr. Fisher’s door is closed and I haven’t seen him all day, so I’m guessing he called me from home when Mr. Shearling called him to bitch about me not being there for an appointment.

Either way, I’m glad to have the privacy when I slip into my office and flip on the light. The moment I enter the room I’m overcome with the scent—or should I stay stench—of Natalie’s whoreish perfume. It’s so damn strong I know without a doubt that she purposely sprayed it in here at some point between now and the last time I was at work.

With a sigh, I slide open the window to let the room air out. It’s hot as hell outside but it’s worth it to sweat if the stench goes away. Hell, if anything maybe my sweat will make the room smell better. I freaking hate this bitch.

I open my paper planner and flip to today’s date, noting how the entire day is in fact blocked off just like I had remembered. Nowhere does it mention the appointment Natalie made for today. Thanks to her meddling in my business and answering my office phone, I had to give Mr. Shearling a fifty percent discount for my lateness and my day with my family was ruined. Simply firing her on Monday doesn’t seem like a severe enough punishment.

I spend a few minutes going through the rest of my paper planner, making sure all of the following pages are blank or either filled in with appointments in my own handwriting, stuff I actually remember writing myself. Then I get on my computer and open the digital scheduler that clients use online, requesting their preferred dates and I make sure everything is exactly in order. Looks like Natalie hasn’t messed with anything else, thank god.

Just for good measure, I go through every document, music, video and photo folder on my computer to make sure that nothing unwanted has been added again. And then I set a new desktop password on the screen so that only I can get on my computer from now on.

Nearly an hour and loads of paranoia later, I’ve set up every possible whore-prevention I can think of. I even posted to my business Facebook page that all appointments should be made with me personally or they aren’t guaranteed.

When the main door to the office building opens and closes, I sit up in my chair, preparing to see Mr. Fisher give me one of his world-class lectures on responsibility in business. But the light knock on my office door frame doesn’t come from my boss.

It’s Bayleigh, Jett perched on her hip.

“Hey, guys,” I say with a smile. My whole body seems to float as I rise and head over to meet them. “What are you doing here?”

Bayleigh holds up a bag from Dickie’s Burgers down the street. “Figured you were hungry.”

“Ugh, you’re best,” I say grabbing the bag. I pull a chair off the wall and slide it over to my side of the desk. “Sit down. I’m starving.”

Bay wears a simple black tank top and a pair of jean shorts with silver flip flops. She’s not wearing any makeup and her hair is pulled back and probably in need of shampoo, but damn if she isn’t completely gorgeous. I watch her as I dig into my fries and she bounces Jett on her knee, eating her burger one-handed.

All these women who hang out at motocross tracks try so damn hard to be attractive, with their fake hair and fake makeup and fake personalities. I can’t count how many times I’ve seen some girl bust her ass in the mud because she was wearing high heels at a freaking dirt bike track. And here I am, the guy with the girl who is gorgeous without even trying. I can’t stand those prissy types of women, but I love my woman.

“You’re really hot,” I tell her between bites of food.

She lifts an eyebrow. “You’re weird.”

I shrug. “I’m just saying.”

“So what happened with the appointment?” she asks, quickly changing the subject, but I see the red rise in her cheeks so I know I’ve done my part.

It’s shitty how my first instinct is to lie to her—if only to prevent her from being upset about Natalie again. But I draw in a deep breath and shake my head, knowing that she deserves the truth, no matter how much I hate talking about it.

“As far as I can tell, Natalie made the appointment when I wasn’t in my office and she conveniently didn’t tell me about it.”

“She didn’t write it down?” Bayleigh asks.

I shake my head and slide the planner across the desk, showing her my marked out day for today. “Aww,” she says, touching the blue highlighter as if it’s some precious artifact. “You’re so sweet, babe.”

I give her the best smile I can manage, but it’s more like a frown. “I’m sorry our day got screwed up. I’m booked solid for the next two weeks.”

Her head tilts to the side as she smiles at me. “It’s okay. I love you.”

I grab a French fry and dunk it in ketchup. “I love you more.”

Another knock on my office door startles me and I’m instantly annoyed that Mr. Fisher would interrupt me now during lunch with my wife. I look up and instantly, immediately and passionately wish it was Mr. Fisher standing in my office.

Natalie’s hair has been slicked straight, her makeup is straight out of some kind of fashion magazine and she’s wearing a skimpy hot pink mini-dress that plunges so far down her cleavage I’m surprised her nipples aren’t sticking out. “So sorry to interrupt you, boss,” she begins in her fake sweet voice.

I stand, almost knocking over my office chair. Beside me, I can feel all the tension in Bayleigh’s heart as she takes in the sight of the woman in front of us. “I’m not your boss anymore,” I say, happy to say the words but annoyed that I didn’t have more time to make her firing more of an epic event. “You’re fired and you need to leave.”

She glances down at Bay and then looks up at me, lifting an intensely arched brow. “Honey you can’t fire me. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You made an appointment for today and didn’t tell me. And you’re fired, so leave.”

She takes a step forward and I can practically imagine the exact way my wife would punch her if she wasn’t holding our baby. Natalie giggles and runs her hands down the front of her dress. “I did tell you, Jace. I guess you just don’t remember.”

She looks at Bay, smiling as if they’re old friends. “Don’t you just hate when our Jacey can’t remember what we tell him?”

Uh oh.

Bayleigh’s eyes glare daggers. Her jaw is rigid. Jett stops what he’s doing to look up at his momma, his tiny face suddenly fearful. She opens her mouth. “Get the fuck out.”

Natalie’s face puckers into sympathy. “Oh, honey,” she says, her voice slow and precise. “That’s not a way to talk in front of your baby. Please tell me you’re a better mom than that.”

“Yeah?” Bay says, rising to her feet. “If you don’t get the fuck out of here, my son is about to watch me kick your ass.”

I reach over and grab the baby, knowing that Bayleigh wouldn’t do anything stupid, but not trusting Natalie with the same regard. “You heard her,” I say, taking my phone off the desk. “You are legit fired and you need to leave and I’m calling the police right now to report that you’re trespassing.”

“Damn,” Natalie says with a roll of her eyes. I hate—absolutely hate—how she’s so unfazed by all of this. Only narcissists of the highest magnitude get off on this kind of drama. “Fine, I’ll go, but Mr. Fisher will probably fire you for treating me this way, Jacey.”

“You can take your skank ass out of here now and stop talking to my husband,” Bayleigh snaps. She points a finger toward the door. “Shoo.”

Natalie smiles. “Oh sweetie. Don’t worry, you’ll be in a better mood once you lose the baby weight.”

You could hear a pin drop in the second that follows. Then Bayleigh launches toward Natalie, her fist reared back and ready to pummel her to the ground. Natalie darts backward and down the hall. I grab Bay’s elbow and hold her in place, balancing Jett in my other arm.

“Baby it’s not worth it,” I say softly, holding onto my wife while her chest heaves, her eyes wide with fury.

In the distance I can hear the main office door swing shut and then the sound of Natalie’s car starting up and speeding away on the gravel road. “Screw her. She’s gone.”

Bay’s muscles loosen beneath my grip as she relaxes. She turns toward me and holds out her arms to the baby. He reaches for his momma and she cuddles him to her chest. “I’m going to kill that bitch,” she says, softly patting Jett’s dirty blonde hair.

I can’t help but laugh. My wife, the loving mother and pissed off wife.

“I told you she is insane,” I say.

Bayleigh nods. “I definitely believe you now.”