“Mornin’, Mr. G,” Emilee sings, heading toward the door.
She swings it open.
“Buenos días, Emilee.”
My second cup of coffee sloshes over the rim the moment I hear that Spanish voice. I swear—it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard.
“Elijah,” I greet him, voice tight. My feet feel like they’re nailed to the darn hardwood. It’s a struggle just to turn around—but when I do…damn.
Freshly shaven. Navy slacks. Light button-down, sleeves rolled. He’s the only one I know who can makedressy casuallook like foreplay.
And on a Sunday, no less.
“Don’t mind my dad, G,” Emilee says with a dramatic eye roll. “He’s not himself this morning.”
No kidding.
I wish the floor would just open up and swallow me whole.
Elijah steps fully into the kitchen, hands on his hips, looking every bit the confident man whodefinitelyfeels the shift in energy.
“Coffee?” I offer, lips barely moving.
“Oh. My. God! Your dad istotallycrushing on my dad!” Ana blurts, practically bouncing with delight.
It hits so fast, I don’t even have time to react—unless you count my jaw hitting the floor.
Emilee’s eyes dart between Elijah and me. I can almost hear her internal monologue spinning.
“How cool would that be, Em? I can see the headlines now—Successful businessman hooks up with world-famous model!Yesss!” Ana throws her arms in the air like she’s manifesting it into reality.
Emilee giggles and high-fives her best friend.
Why is this my life?
Thankfully, Elijah chooses to ignore the theatrics. “Actually, I was heading over to Bourbon Bar,” he says, casually adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “Why don’t you join me?”
I glance at my daughter. She lifts a single brow, daring me. “Go ahead, Dad. Join him.”
Her eyes bounce suspiciously between us. Great—now I’ll be the headline in their group chat.
But honestly?
That’s a no-brainer.
I’ve never been so grateful for an excuse to get thehell out of drama town.
10
ELIJAH
“Thanks for the save,”Alex mutters as he slides into the back seat of my town car, looking like he barely escaped with his life. “Those girls can bebrutal.”
I chuckle, stealing a glance at his outfit—dark jeans, fitted white T-shirt, and blue-and-white Adidas that somehow make him look effortlessly expensive. Add in the scruff on his jaw, and holy hell… he’s every bit the high-fashion model that he is.
I slide in beside him. Not only does he look good, he smells really good too. Like spicy vanilla with a hint of?—
“Coffee. It’s coffee,” he says, laughing as he catches my nose practically twitching. That damn dimple flashes on the left side of his face. “Spilled the whole damn thing on me.”
