Baby Be Mine (Spinsters & Casanovas Series Book 1) by Wanitta Praks Page B

You’re
making me crazy,” Clinton shouted, newspaper in hand, running
around after Hunter like they were playing chase.
    “Calm down, Dad. You don’t want the whole
department to know you’re fighting with the future heir,” Hunter
said when his father stopped to rest on the armchair, out of
breath. Hunter came to comfort his father, patting him on the back
to help him with his breathing.
    “Future heir? Hunter! What am I going to do
with you?” Clinton said once he recovered, swatting his son’s arm
as a consequence for defying him yet again. “That one simple task
and you couldn’t even do it for me.”
    “What do you want me to do, Dad? She was
practically a mannequin. She didn’t even speak to me for fifteen
minutes. The only time she said anything was when the waitress came
to order our meals.”
    “She’s shy,” Clinton explained.
    “Shy my ass.” Hunter snarled.
    “Don’t you speak with that tone, young man!”
His father rang his ear.
    “Ahh, Dad, I’m sorry,” he yelled until his
father let his ear go. “But why are you so persistent in matching
me up with some random girl anyway? You know I don’t like it.”
    “She’s not random. She’s the daughter of the
CEO of one of our most important client’s here. And I am sick and
tired of you behaving like a Casanova. Get real. This girl, she
would be good for you.”
    “Why does it have to be her?” Hunter asked.
Surely his dad could pick up someone better than the jukebox, aka
Caroline. Caroline was more his cousin’s type. Quiet, mature, tall,
skinny. Yep, it was everything Anton would desire in a woman.
    “Because she likes you.” His father
gasped.
    “But she doesn’t even know anything about
me. And for the record, I don’t like her,” he declared.
    “What don’t you like about her?” Clinton
asked. He couldn’t understand why a girl as beautiful as Caroline
would not catch his son’s eye. She was the epitome of beauty, the
perfect wife for his wayward child.
    “Because she’s too quiet. Too boring. She
doesn’t hold my interest. She’s not my type. And the list goes on.
You get the gist, Dad.” He listed his dislikes of Caroline to his
father.
    “You have a type?” Clinton asked, astonished
that kids these days had types they went for.
    “I do, Dad,” he said to his father, whose
cheeks were puffed up like a helium balloon. “Look, stop. You might
have an aneurism, and then what’s Betty going to do?”
    “The question is what are you going to do if
that happens?” Clinton asked. He wasn’t sure if he could rest in
peace if his only son continued to behave like this, like a boat
without a sail, floating on the sea, being carried by the wind in
any direction it blew.
    Clinton didn’t like the thought of his son
having no prospects ahead of him. But looking at the past
twenty-three years, his son hadn’t improved at all; in fact, his
behavior was getting worse. All day, his son played around, having
no responsibility, only increasing his horrible attitude. He was
sure Caroline would be his savior. He got so mad when Anton
informed him of the outcome, that his son had just left the table
without as so much as a proper explanation. How could he make his
son be a gentleman? What could he do to make him learn? His son
needed to take responsibility.
    “I’ll become the heir of the company, of
course,” Hunter stated simply. Actually, he should have said Anton
would be the heir, but he just wanted to piss off his father, since
his ear was still throbbing.
    “Hunter, you’re going to make me die early
here.” Clinton smacked his palm against his forehead in
frustration.
    “Oh, Dad, calm down. Look, I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to just up and leave her like that. I did tell her I
had some business to attend to.”
    “That’s the same thing as ditching the
girl.”
    “I said I’m sorry,” Hunter whined like a
little kid.
    “Yes, you should be,” Clinton said. “I had
to ring Caroline’s father and