“Oh god, I can’t imagine moving to another country and not knowing the language.”
“My dad learned it so he could flirt with my mom.”
Head tipped back, she lets out a loud laugh. “Your dad has some major game. And he doesn’t even need it.”
This time I’m the one gaping. “Are you saying you think my dad is hot?”
“Yes. And everyone within a one-hundred-mile radius of your father would agree.”
I scowl.
She rolls her eyes. “Like you didn’t benefit from that. You look just like him.”
“You trying to tell me you thinkI’mhot, Angles?”
There’s that eye roll again. My dick twitches. Fuck.
“Do you know any French?”
As if by divine design, “Yellow” by Coldplay starts.
I hold out a hand. “Tradition in my house is that when this song comes on, everyone stops what they’re doing and dances.”
She stares at my outstretched hand, lips tugged down.
With a huff, I snag her wrist and yank her up. She falls into my chest, laughing, then wraps her arms around my neck. “Smooth, JJ, so very smooth.”
As I settle my hands on her hips, I struggle to catch my breath. When she’s this close, I lose even the ability to breathe.
We move, and her tank top rides up a fraction, my thumb burning at the feel of her skin beneath it. Eyes locked with hers, I say, “I’m not smooth, Adeline.” Though I say it in French. “Not with you,” I continue, thankful she doesn’t understand. “I look at you and thinkfuck it, I should kiss you. But then I remember that I’m scared to death of losing you.”
“What does that mean?” she murmurs, her face tipped up.
“You were leaning too far to the left in the goal today,” I say calmly. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna take the top spot this week.”
She scoffs, but she’s smiling. “God, it sounded more like a declaration of love than you being an asshole.” She shakesher head, eyes shining. “I should have known.” Sighing, she settles her head against my chest. “Your parents’ love story is really beautiful.”
The warmth of her steals my breath once again. Resting my cheek against her head, I close my eyes and wish I had the balls to tell her she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
Instead, I mumble, “Thanks, Angles.”
EIGHTEEN
ADDIE
“When will you be back?”Gracie asks.
Finn, who made dinner yet again, sits across from her, forking a giant bite of chicken and fried rice into his mouth. While he cooked, the kids sat at the counter, watching him like he was performing at one of those teppanyaki restaurants, chopping up food and tossing the vegetables into the air so the kids could try to catch them in their mouths. It was a whole experience.
“Finn is in the playoffs,” Hope explains. “He’s got to be fully focused from now until the World Series.”
“Can I come to the World Series?” Declan asks as a hunk of carrot flies off Beck’s fork and smacks him in the face.
“See what you started?” Winnie glares at our brother as she snatches Beck’s fork from his hand. “You don’t get to use utensils if you use them to throw food.”
Beck beams at her. “So I can eat with my hands?”
I bite back a cackle as Winnie groans. “No.”
