I should put in my notice with Mr. Jacobs right now because the thoughts going through my head about his son are far from professional.
Ford is model hot in a clean-cut, wealthy way. Men like him aren’t usually my type. And although he’s a pompous ass, seeing him with his daughter makes me want to jump him. Makes me wish the one kiss we shared had gone further.
He seems to have adopted the role of father as masterfully as he skates. The house isn’t as messy as it was the day his family ambushed him, which I’m guessing means he’s getting into a rhythm. There are prepared bottles in the fridge, neatly folded baby clothes in a laundry basket by the stairs, and Annabelle looks happy. Neither of them have bags under their eyes.
“That about it?” Ford asks, standing from the floor. He pulls An
