When they trooped outside to test their creations, I followed with my phone, capturing shots of paper aircraft sailing across the backyard. My laugh escaped as Madison’s plane executed a flawless loop before landing in the koi pond.
“Uncle Finn!” Rose called out. “Mine’s broken!”
Finn knelt beside her, examining the crumpled nose of her plane as she sniffled dramatically. “Not broken. Just needs a field repair.” He smoothed out the damaged section and made a small adjustment to the wing fold. “Try now.”
Her second launch sent the plane soaring in a smooth arc across the patio, the pure joy on her face infectious.
I moved to stand beside him as the last plane landed. “You’re a natural teacher.”
He glanced at me and shrugged. “Just helping them follow instructions.”
“No,” I squeezed his arm. “That was more than instructions. That was leadership.”
Chapter 18
Good girl
Finn
The drive back to Alex’s house was quiet, both of us lost in thoughtafter a successful evening. She’d navigated her family with grace, and I’d found myself enjoying the chaos—the kids’ questions, the adults’ easy acceptance, how Alex had naturally included me in every conversation and inside joke.
But by the time we reached her house, I’d noticed the small signs of overstimulation creeping in—the way she’d grown extra quiet in voice and energy, the slight tightness around her eyes, her fingers tapping against the steering wheel at every stop. The build-up of a full day of managing her emotions while playing a part—playing two parts. I swallowed at my guilt.
“I’m going to change,” Alex’s exhausted tone followed us through the door. She kicked her sandals off by the entrance before turning on the lamp by the sofa. “Do you want to watch a movie or something when I’m done?”
“Only if that’s what you want, darlin’,” I set the empty serving bowl in the sink, glad everyone had devoured our offering.
“I need something to help me decompress,” she moved down the hall. “You did good today, Walker. You did real good.”
I heard her bedroom door shut, followed by the sound of water running through pipes. I stretched—my back crackling as I bent—and decided I was ready for more comfortable clothes.
After changing into pajama pants and a t-shirt, I returned to the kitchen, turning on the lights above the sink and island so I could look for her coffee grinder. She had to have one since Enzo mentioned she often forgot to make her own cold brew. I quickly located it. Hand crank. Praise Ray for his and Dom’s insistenceon strength training during my recovery. I opened cupboards until I found a bag of coffee beans—Peruvian with hints of lemon, chocolate, and honey. Her choice didn’t surprise me in the least.
I measured the beans into the grinder, working the handle for just under a minute before finding a large glass jar with a lid.
“What are you doing?” I hadn’t heard Alex return. I looked up at her—glasses on, hair hanging loose, wearing a silky, lavender-striped pajama set with loose shorts and a button up top. She looked relaxed. Perfect.
“Making cold brew,” I turned back to my task, pouring the grounds into the jar and looking for a measuring cup.
“They sell cold brew concentrate at the store,” Alex pulled out her glass liquid measurer and handed it to me.
I glanced at her, not hiding the smirk on my face. “Please. I may have been hit in the head and ejected from the burnin’ wreckage of a jet, but I’m not stupid. If concentrate was good enough for you, you’d have some in the fridge. But you don’t. So, I’m makin’ cold brew.”
I slowly poured water over the grounds before securing the lid. “Do you normally leave it on the counter or put it in the fridge?”
“Fridge works,” she rested her hands on the counter as she settled onto one of the stools.
“Is it because you don’t have a machine grinder?” I slipped the jar onto a shelf before turning back to her.
“No,” she shrugged. “I just... don’t do it. I guess I talk myself out of it since it’s just me and iced coffee is fine.”
“Just fine?” I came around the island and she turned in her seat. She smelled warm and earthy, mixed with something darker that pulled me in.
“It takes too long,” she set her chin as she looked up at me, faint sparkle in her eye. “I never was one for delayed gratification.”
“Then you haven’t been doing it right,” I couldn’t help teasing her a bit, the air around us snapping to life. I leaned closer, trackingthe way her lips parted slightly, her eyes flicking down my body and back up to my face. I’d seen the same look in her eyes the first time I’d kissed her, and when she introduced me to her team. A challenge mixed with lust. She was in chase-the-adrenaline mode, and I’d be lying if I’d said I wasn’t feeling the same. I slid between her bare thighs, ignoring my brain’s orders to stop.
“You see, if you know what you’re doing,” I trailed a knuckle down the side of her neck before pushing the collar of her top to the side to trace over what I’d seen that morning, noting the sharp intake of breath, “that prolonged denial of gratification makes its eventual arrival even better.”
