It's Always Complicated (Her Billionaires Book 4) by Julia Kent Page A

about your sex life.”
    “WHAT?” Laura’s brain shifted gears until she got the joke. “Ha ha.” At least this was more like the old Josie Laura knew. “I mean I’m getting in the car this afternoon and coming to Portland. Now. Mike and the guys can follow.”
    “You—what?”
    “You need a friend.”
    “I need a good defense lawyer for my mom.”
    “Sorry. I never went to law school. Can’t be a lawyer. I know how to be a good friend, though.”
    “You know how to be a great friend.”
    Laura could feel Josie’s smile through the phone, and that meant Josie was right.
    Laura was a great friend.
    “So give me a few hours to explain it all to the guys and the kids, pack up, and get on the road. What hotel are you at in Portland?”
    Josie named a nice, upscale boutique hotel on the water that Laura had heard of. “I’ll reserve you a room,” Josie said. “And we can go out to dinner. Did you know there’s a store here where they sell nothing but flavored pop?”
    “Flavored popsicles?”
    “No. Pop. You know...soda.” Josie’s midwestern roots showed sometimes.
    “Can’t wait to get there and see.”
    “Hey, Laura?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Thanks. You—it’s like you can read my mind and figure out exactly what I need. Only there’s no sex involved.”
    “Um, I guess that’s a compliment?”
    “It is.”
    “You’re so weird, Josie.”
    “I know.”
    “I like weird.”
    “As if you have a choice.”
    Laura hummed as she got off the phone, and as she turned around to go find Mike and Dylan, she was greeted by a trail of cheese stick wrappers. Following it, she found all three kids sitting in a toy bin, the toys scattered everywhere, Jillian clutching a 48- pack of cheese sticks that now held one.
    One.
    It had been full when Laura opened it fifteen minutes ago.
    “Where are all the cheese sticks?” Laura asked her.
    Jillian pointed to her mouth, Adam’s mouth, and Aaron’s mouth. All three looked like chipmunks stuffing their cheeks for winter. Laura looked behind the couch. About fifteen cheese sticks rested on the ground, like cream-colored Lincoln Logs.
    “Jilly, no!” Laura took the bag from her daughter, snatched up all the cheese sticks from behind the couch, and began counting. Seventeen accounted for.
    How had three children eaten thirty-one cheese sticks so fast?
    Dylan shouted from the other room: “Why are there cheese sticks in the heating grate and oh, God, are those my car keys again?”
    Big, fat tears filled Jillian’s eyes. She said nothing. Adam and Aaron chewed. Adam grinned at Laura.
    “I sorry, Mama.”
    “You can’t do this, Jillian.” Laura shook the bag of cheese sticks.
    “I wanted to help. Aaron was hungry.”
    “Aaron can’t talk yet, so how did you know he was hungry?”
    “He said, ‘May I please have some cheese, Jillian.’” The little girl’s sincerity through the lie was so adorable Laura almost laughed.
    Almost.
    “Guh!” Adam actually said, reaching into his mouth, pulling out a wad of unchewed cheese, and holding it out in one plump little fist for Laura to take.
    Dylan came into the room and looked at the kids, then Laura. “What’s up?”
    Romance , she thought.
    “We’re having a cheese stick crisis,” she explained.
    He blinked, mouth twitching with amusement, and looked at each child. “How many?”
    “Thirty-one.”
    He handed her the contents of one hand. “Well, here are eight more. So that’s twenty-three missing.”
    “If the three of them ate an average of eight cheese sticks each, there goes dinner.”
    “It’s not a big deal, Laura.”
    “Who put a cheese stick in my running shoe?” Mike called out from the front door landing. He was dressed in summer running clothes, which for Mike meant shorts, socks, and shoes, with a t-shirt slung over his shoulder.
    “I was on the phone for less than ten minutes! How could they get these everywhere?” Laura cried out.
    “Ninjas. We have three little cheese ninjas,”