And his wife Cassie, one of my sister Winnie’s best friends, is the same damn way.
I offer a friendly smile to Thatch’s assistant, and her eyes go wide for a beat when she spots Izzy, but she silently gestures for me to go inside while she finishes up a phone call.
I find Thatch sitting behind his massive desk, his legs kicked up on the wooden surface and his arms stretched out behind his head.
“What the fluff, Kline?” he retorts with a furrow of his brow. “I thought you said—” He pauses midsentence when he spots my arrival, and then his gaze moves downward to my chest, where Izzy sleeps in her carrier. “Uh…I gotta jet, Special K.”
“You’re such a di—” Kline Brooks’s voice starts to chime from the speaker, but it’s cut off with a click before he can finish.
“Uh…I’m not sure if you know this, but…” Thatch drops his voice to a whisper. “You have a baby strapped to your chest.”
“I’m aware.”
“Okay…” He squints and stands up from his desk. “And how exactly did you get this baby?” he asks, but then he holds up his hand toward my face. “Wait. Don’t answer that. First, let me add that if you stole this baby, keep that shit to yourself.”
I laugh. Outright. “I didn’t steal this baby.”
“If you bought that baby off some kind of black market, again, keep it to yourself. I’m fluffing good at keeping secrets, but not when the FBI is involved.”
I start to open my mouth to set his crazy ass straight, but he’s already diving headfirst into one of his insane rambles as he steps closer to me and Izzy, his eyes taking in her suit jacket.
“So…she’s a little lady. But, like, a very professional little lady,” he comments. “Shit, this is the most professional baby I’ve ever seen in my life. Is she famous? Did you steal a famous person’s baby? Wait… Don’t even tell me this baby is a mobster.”
“Yeah, Thatch,” I retort with a roll of my eyes. “She’s a mobster baby who’s here to collect.”
He looks at me. Then back at Izzy. “I ain’t sleeping with no fishes tonight, honey. I can tell you that.”
Izzy just keeps sleeping.
“And whatever dark world Remy has found himself in,” he continues, “I can tell you, I can’t join in. My wife is far scarier than a mobster. She’d literally castrate me if I became someone’s drug mule or some shit.”
I stare at him. “Are you done?”
“I think so.” He smirks. “Wait…unless that baby is connected to my wife and she’s sent you here to try to slyly convince me that another kid is a good idea. Then I’m going to have to ask you and your professional baby to leave.”
“Her name is Izzy, and I’m doing her mom a favor.”
He eyes me suspiciously. “So, she’s not in the mob?”
“No.”
“And you didn’t steal her?”
“Also no.”
He scoffs. “Well, fluff, this story is far more boring than I was hoping.”
“You’re insane.”
Thatch just grins. “Would you and your baby like to take a seat?”
“Only if that means we’re actually going to converse about investments.”
“You wound me, Rem.” He feigns a pout. “You act like I’m not the most entertaining friend you have. Which, you and I both know, I am.”
Despite my better judgment, I sit down in one of the chairs across from his desk, but I’m surprised when, instead of walking back around to his big leather throne, he sits down beside me.
And then he proceeds to carefully pull Izzy out of the carrier and cuddle her tiny body in his big arms. One sniff to the top of her head and he grins.
“Ah yes, honey. You have that addictive baby smell.” He sniffs her head again like some kind of fucking addict.
“You do realize you’re being really weird right now, right?”
“Hell if I care.” He shrugs. “You can’t bring the cutest boss baby in the whole wide world into my office and not expect me to hold her. Do I know her mom?”
“No.” I shake my head. “She’s an old friend from high school, actually.”
“Is she married?”
“The baby? No.”
He snorts. “Her mom.”
“No, Maria is not married.”
“Oh, so…it’s Maria?”
“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “Her mother’s name is Maria.”