Fertile Chaos

I rented a bouncy castle for my stream. I didn't expect the man delivering it to wreck me for everyone else. Trevor’s has been my secret fantasy for two years—older, and completely off-limits as my dad's best friend. When he shows up in my backyard to deliver a bouncy castle I rented, I have a very professional plan. I’m going to bounce for my subs and collect my tips. The plan lasts approximately four minutes. Because when he agrees to hold the camera and my top hits the floor—the look on his face tells me this show is only for one person now.

He's thirty-four. I'm twenty-one and untouched. The treehouse never stood a chance. I climbed into his tree to save it — protest sign, three donuts, and a foolproof plan. He climbed up to talk me down. Nobody got talked down. Now the man who was supposed to demolish my childhood treehouse is teaching me everything I waited twenty-one years to learn, his beard against my sensitive skin and babygirl in my ear. And when I let slip how fertile the women in my family run? He calls off his crew and gets to work on forever. He wanted the tree gone. Now he just wants me.

Dad's text said: if the sirens go off, go straight to Wade's. He has no idea what he just did.Wade Foster is forty-two, my dad's best friend, and the chief meteorologist I've watched at ten o'clock every night for two years. I've never once made it through his ten o'clock forecast with my hands...