He smiled and pulled the plate and a bottle of Coke from the fridge and picked up his bag of chips from the counter.
He settled in the great room, turning on the television, making sure the volume wasn’t loud enough to disturb his sleeping host. He set his bounty on the coffee table and dug in.
He alternated between chewing, flipping channels, and taking a swig of his carbonated beverage until he found a syndicated episode ofStar Trek: The Next Generation. He didn’t care what anyone had to say, Patrick Stewart was the best captain who sat on the deck of theEnterprise.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and a new text from his brother flashed across the screen.
Kip: Overnighted equipment for the Restoration Ranch job. We’ll be able to start in two–three days.
Jackson: Good. Question: Daddy with you?
Kip: No. Why?
Jackson: What’s this about him getting married?
Kip:
Jackson: If you pay so little attention to him, I can see now how you let him get caught up.
Kip: Let? Last I checked, he was growner than both of us put together.
Jackson: Growner is not a word. Who is she?
Kip: If you came ’round on a regular, you’d know.
Jackson: Is she nice? Are you okay with this?
Kip took a moment to answer and Jackson worried during the silence. What if this woman was terrible for his father? What if she hurt him?
Kip: She makes him smile, J. After everything he’s been through, he deserves to smile. That’s all I’m interested in.
Frustrated with his brother’s nonanswer, Jackson took another sip of his drink and texted again.
Jackson: You’re an asshole. Give me a straight answer.
Kip: I’m told I take after my big brother. If you wanna know about Daddy’s lady friend, bring ya ass home.
Jackson:
Kip:
He smiled as he put the phone back in his pocket. Kip might get on his last nerve, but he still loved him. Not to mention, he was right. Jackson needed to spend more time with his family.
Jackson popped the last chip in his mouth when he recognized familiar footsteps heading toward the great room. He looked up and found Aja leaning against the doorway. “Ready for a snack?”
A snack? She was standing there with her head wrapped in a black satin scarf, her face free of any makeup, her torso covered in a fitted gray tank, and pink sweatpants that looked more lounge worthy than workout appropriate—fitted to accent her thick thighs and the deep curves of her hips. Good God. A snack? Yeah, he wanted one. But only if she were on the dessert menu.
She walked into the room with her hands behind her back, grinning like she held the sweetest secret. She stepped in front of him. If she was waiting for him to speak, she’d wait a mighty long time, because watching her in her natural, comfortable glory stole his breath and made speech impossible.
She pulled a dessert plate from behind her back that boasted a thick and tall slice of pineapple coconut cake. He struggled for a moment, trying to pull his sight from the tempting way the swell of her breasts called to him from under the thin material of the tank. He closed his eyes and released a low, long sound that was a strange symphony of lust and frustration coming together in a unique blend.
“Wow, you really weren’t kidding when you said you loved this kind of cake.”
Cake? Oh, yeah. There’s cake too, he reminded himself.Focus on the cake, Dean. It’s the only treat you can have that won’t complicate the hell out of your life.
“I do. But I thought you said I had to earn it.”
She handed him the plate, followed by a fork and a napkin she appeared to pull out of thin air. The truth was, she could’ve been wearing them for all he could remember. Once he’d caught sight of her looking like the perfect mix of comfort and sexy, he hadn’t focused on anything other than her.
