Daddy's Pretty Baby by Cassandra Dee

Author:Cassandra Dee [Dee, Cassandra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-03-05T06:00:00+00:00

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Hayden

It’s easy to explain our interest in Summer because she’s pretty much the opposite of the girls we’ve bedded so far. Intelligent, vivacious, with a fun-loving personality, and not stuck-up at all. She was like her name. A warm, beautiful day, the sunlight on your skin, melodious laughter filling your ears.

So we’d watched from afar at first. Summer was the cutest thing, round and curvy in a t-shirt and shorts, translating from perfect Slovanian into English and then back again. We watched as she helped villagers fill out intake forms, read prescriptions aloud, and even care for some of the needier kids. The girl was sweet and giving, with a healthy dose of the smarts.

But that was the problem. The brunette was smart, too smart. Normally, we have no problem passing ourselves off as Americans, with perfect accents and medical degrees from NYU. When someone asks us where we’re from, we just say New Jersey because it’s a guaranteed conversation-stopper. No one’s interested in the Garden State.

But Summer was more perceptive than that.

“Oh, I love Jersey,” she said, studying us closely. “Whereabouts?”

We were ready for this.

“Near Manhattan,” I said vaguely. “We spend most of our time in the City.”

That got most people talking about New York and what an amazing place it was, the museums, Times Square, taking the subway, visiting the Statute of Liberty. But Summer wasn’t deterred.

“Whereabouts near Manhattan?” she asked, tipping her head in the sweetest manner. “Jersey City? Hoboken? West New York?”

Now I had to laugh. Jersey City and Hoboken were reasonable guesses, they were nice middle class communities just across the water from New York, perfect for folks who worked in the city but didn’t want to live there. But West New York was a shitshow, a crime-ridden area filled with hoodlums.

“Why, do we look like West New Yorkers?” I teased.

Summer’s face colored.

“No, not at all,” she rushed. “I didn’t mean to imply that you looked like criminals or anything, you’re doctors, I just thought … um,” she said, biting her lip, looking genuinely mortified.

“No worries,” growled Holt. “We get it all the time,” he assured her.

But I could see why Summer was asking. Since starting this mission, my twin and I had dressed downright sloppy, like mountain men living in the wild. When we weren’t in scrubs, we were in t-shirts with holes, frayed cargo shorts and shower slippers. She probably thought we were new grads, paying off loads of student debt.

And it felt nice to be anonymous for once, to have someone judge you on your merits and not on your family name, the generational wealth, the entire reputation of your country lying on your shoulders. So we let it slide.

“Actually, we’re from Fort Lee,” I said, referring to a small town in Jersey that most people had never heard about. That usually stopped the conversation, it was too obscure.

But the girl cocked her head at us again.

“Oh Fort Lee!” she said, surprised. “What do you guys think of Chris Christie? Bridgegate was such a fiasco for him, his political career is probably over.

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