The Banker (Modern Love Book 3) by Piper Rayne

Author:Piper Rayne [Rayne, Piper]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-04T16:00:00+00:00

18

We cross over the state line into Oregon a short time later and a while after that we pull into the hospital entrance.

“Just stop by the emergency and I’ll park the truck,” I say.

Jasper does exactly that. He’s out of the car in a flash, running through the emergency room doors. I park the truck and then walk through the doors a little reluctantly. Mostly because I’m not sure what my place is here. The closer we got to the hospital, the more real the situation became. The more I wished I was on the brown leather couch back at the cabin, or hell, maybe back in San Francisco.

There’s no chance this kid will like me, I think as I look around. But my brother’s kids love me. Yeah, that’s because you’re the irresponsible aunt, my subconscious says and I shake my head to clear my thoughts.

Needing a coffee to curb my anxiety, I buy the horrible vending machine one. I’m sure this remote mountain town probably doesn’t have a Starbucks anywhere in the vicinity.

I take a seat in the waiting room, figuring that when Jasper’s done, he’ll find me and introduce me to Brady. Thank God this is going to go down in a hospital because there’s a chance I might actually pass out.

While I sip on the disgusting brew they’re calling coffee, I spot some college-aged kids in Camp Tall Pines t-shirts. The two of them have worried looks on their faces and keep checking their phones.

“Why did you let him climb that?” one girl asks the other.

“You were supposed to be watching him,” the other girl says.

They’re passing blame. Surely, he can’t be the first kid to break a bone at camp?

“Are you here for Brady Banks?” I ask them and for the first time I put his name together. Brady Banks. Makes me think about Richie Rich. I laugh inside.

The girls turn to me with wide eyes, neither one wanting to say anything.

I point to their shirts. “Or is there another kid here with a broken arm?”

The blonde girl smiles. “Yes, we brought him in with our leader,” she says. “Are you his mother? I’m so sorry.”

“Do I look old enough to be a mom?” I ask, a little offended. I can’t be more than five years older than this girl.

“Well,” the redhead says.

“How old are you?” I ask, still upset they think I could be someone’s mother.

“Twenty,” blondie says.

Okay, so six years. Whatever.

“I’m only a little older than you. Definitely not old enough to have a six-year-old.”

Then I calculate the math in my head. Fuck me. I am old enough to be his mother. When the hell did that happen?

“Oh, sorry,” the redhead says, hitting the blonde’s arm.

I finish my coffee, place it on the table and turn my attention to the TV in the waiting area. Ah, good ol’ Maury Povich.

“I can’t believe this is still on.” I chuckle to myself. “‘You are not the father,’” I say in a deep voice.

The two young

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