“I definitely will.” I lied again. “But I do love our dinners when you come to the city too.”
“I know. I know. I just want to cook for you. But, don’t worry,” she said, soft and certain. “You’ll marry my daughter one day.”
I blinked, startled at the bold statement and she laughed, warm and light just like Evy’s.
“She’ll test your patience with her endless questions,” she added, “but she’ll keep your heart full of love and your stomach full of sugar. And really, that’s all a good man needs.”
“What are you two talking about?” Sebastian asked, returning to the kitchen we spent many years pilfering food from while Judy tried to make us wait for dinner.
“Just talking to my future son-in-law about your sister.” She answered calmly, as if that were entirely normal.
Seb’s gaze darted to mine, and I threw my hands up defensively shaking my head.
“Oh, relax, Sebby,” Judy said, “I’m only joking.”
I just shrugged at my mate who was still scowling, while I was caught somewhere between a smile and something deeper. Something heavier. Because at that moment, in this very kitchen, with the smell of cookies and kindness and familiarity wrapped around me like a second skin, I was reminded of everything they’d always given me.
Family.
Not the one I was born with. The one I wanted to stay with.
I woke to the soft clatter of utensils and the warm scent of pancakes wafting through the air. Still half-asleep, I quickly brushed my teeth before heading toward the kitchen and stopping cold in the doorway.
There she was.
Wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts, barely long enough to cover that gorgeous, plush arse, and equally as desirous, the engagement ring that gleamed on her hand. Those large green headphones sat snug over her ears, strands of hair falling from the bun perched on her head. Her glasses slipped down her nose as she moved, hips swaying, completely lost in the task at hand.
Waking to find her in the kitchen was a dream I didn’t realise I’d been chasing. She was the sexiest little thing I’d ever seen, bare legs, soft thighs and a hint of skin with every movement. My shirt clung to her in the best ways, and all I could think about was how badly I needed her.
She was plating the last of the pancakes, still oblivious to my perusal as she retrieved the berries from the fridge. I watched as she stilled, obviously having felt my presence, before she reached to remove her headphones, a breathtaking grin tossed over her shoulder towards me.
“Leave them on,” I growled, my voice still rough with sleep.
The discordant sounds of Chris Isaak pulsed through the headphones before she obeyed, an anticipatory look in her now wide eyes. Desire crashed over me like waves. Seeing her here like this, in my shirt, wearing my ring, preparing food for me like it was just another morning. After everything that had happened last night, it was too much.
Spinning her toward me, I kissed her hard, my tongue seeking her taste. The sweet hint of honey mixed with heat coated her mouth and without breaking the kiss, I lifted her up onto the bench, moving into the space between her spread thighs. I tugged her shirt up exposing her swollen breasts. Moving down her neck, I sucked one nipple, then the other, until she arched beneath me, soft gasps muffled by the music in her ears.
Glancing down, my cock throbbed in my sweats at the sight of her glistening pussy. Every inch of her was ready, slick and pulsing with need, already mine before I even touched her there. Laying her back, eyes narrowing with dark satisfaction, I trailed kisses down her thighs.
“Let me take that ache away, baby. I want to taste how much you need me.” I let my lips rest just shy of her centre as I whispered, letting my voice sink into her tight cunt like a promise. And just like that, my day began, nothing like I’d ever imagined, and everything I’d ever wanted when she filled my mouth with her pleasure.
Hopping off my bike, I looked up at the house. It was quiet, clean, and sterile. The same as it always was and a completecontrast to when I left the other night. After spending the last few daysmostlytalking with Evangeline, I knew it was time to face the music and despite her offering, it was something I needed to do alone.
I didn’t bother knocking, they would have heard the bike even if no one alerted them to my arrival, and I walked through until I found them both in the kitchen. Seeing them here together was almost unnerving. I couldn’t remember the last time they’d sat at the table together as if it were a regular Sunday afternoon and we were a regular family. My phone and emails had been eerily silent - no attempts to apologise, justify or even berate. But after the forensic trail led all the way back to Dane’s Real Estate, the truth was undeniable; the person behind the decade-long deceit was my own fucking father. He’d led the charge to steal from me and he’d done it from the beginning and on countless occasions.
It was Evangeline’s suggestion to bring Samantha in, and to her credit, she’d been more than willing to help. I hadn’t formalised anything legally, but they didn’t know that. For now, calling their bluff was enough. Preston Dane had never been a good man, and there was no telling how long the theft would have continued if Evy hadn’t been so damn thorough.
Thanks to her, I was able to pin down exactly who was involved. Grant was long gone and would find it pretty fucking difficult to get another job in the industry thanks to the depth of my contacts. Samantha had also uncovered some shady dealings in Marcus’ operations, which led to an immediate shutdown. I only wished I’d been there when he was told, knowing he’d owned that gym for nearly thirty years and would have been seething.
And Eva had agreed to stay on at Golden Spades full-time.Unless she got a better offer, she’d said, wearing that damn edible smile.
“Cooper.” My mother stood, coming towards me with her practised tight-lipped smile and I held up a hand to stop her. “Would you like a drink?” She asked nervously.
Even after the other night she was going to pretend everythingwas fine, offering me a drink like I was here for fucking afternoon tea.
“No. We need to talk.” I snapped in a no-nonsense tone.
My father finally turned towards me. His face was a mess of swelling and bruises, darkened and ugly. One eye was nearly shut, a split lip to match and my fist tingled at the memory.
