I’ve never considered what it would take for me. I can’t say I’ve ever wanted a second date with someone. Hell, half the time, I don’t want a first date.
Sex is good. Food is good. Bad conversation is… Well, I’d rather be alone.
But a temporary arrangement with an iron-clad prenup, where we live apart, avoid huge financial disasters? I saved her once. What if this isn’t about me saving her again? What if it’s abouther paying me back? A favor for a favor. She’d be out no more than her deductible, be minorly inconvenienced, but it would save me millions. Literal millions. And I don’t want to part with my money, or have anything I work for in the future go to pay some fucker who was willing to rape or kidnap or murder. Or going to any of his friends.
The eye was… unfortunate. I’ll give a lame apology if they force me to. I can do anything to avoid the loss of everything I’ve worked for… even if it’s anI’m sorrywhen I’m not or marrying my annoying neighbor.
I wonder if it would hurt her feelings if our legal arrangement includes me doing the cooking. I already do that, and it’d save me from her terrible baking. Come to think of it, are all her swear words baking terms? Why?
She’s a brainiac, but a baker she is not.
13
wildest nightmares
Liam
I make my way back home, not realizing I’d pushed more than three miles up the canyon road. I have no idea what time it is, and I left my sister alone with my… fiancée. She hasn’t agreed or anything, but…
Shit.
I push through the back door to find my brother coming inside from the front door with bags of take-out food, Ayla talking to Sophia as she nurses, and Lorien nowhere to be seen.
“She ran next door to make some brownies,” Ayla says, grabbing her phone and tapping something out. “I told her lunch was here.”
“She can’t bake.” I say quickly, pushing the air down with my hands. “Fair warning.”
“How bad could it be?” Cian asks.
My eyes go wide in that look that communicates to all who know me I’m not joking.
“Really? How can that be?” Ayla puts in.
We never finish the conversation, because a knock on the front door is followed closely by the woman in question, popping her head through. The rest of her body follows like a slinky.
“They’re still hot. Too hot to cut, but they should be readyafter lunch. They’re my mom’s recipe.”
“Your mom’s a baker?” Ayla stands, adjusting something under the small blanket, and lifts Sophia onto her shoulder.
“A great one.” The voice drifts into the kitchen.
“Don’t encourage her.” My words are more of a quiet hiss than anything.
“Our mom considered store-bought cookies and cakes homemade. We never really baked.” Ayla grins widely at me as she follows my brother to the dining table.
“Just wait.” Payback’s a bitch, and I’ll laugh when my sister gets what’s coming to her.
Cian sets the cartons in the middle of the table. “Lorien, do you mind grabbing some plates while you’re in there?”
“What does everyone want to drink?” I ask as Ayla grabs silverware from the drawer.
We finally settle, pass around the feast that Cian bought, and dig in.
“So, when are we getting hitched?”
Lorien’s fork clatters to her plate.
“Rum balls. I— Uh…”
