He cringes harder. “If she keeps suggesting Lucky hooks up with Margie?—”
I grin. “Incest isn’t on his bucket list? After you were discussing if she was hot last night?”
He shoves me. “Apple cobbler better be worth it.”
Of course it is.
When I serve it up, everyone forgets about everything beyond the orgasms in their mouths.
And I forget about everything except how Margie looks when her eyes slide shut and her lips tip up in a blissful smile while her throat works as she swallows.
“You sure security’s your thing?” Mr. Sullivan asks me. “When you can cook like this?”
“Let the man have a hobby, Dad,” Decker says. “Not as much fun when your hobby becomes your job.”
“Wah, I get to do the thing I love most in the world for money,” Lucky says.
“It’s so hard being me when I get to grump around pretending to have writer’s block while my assistant does all the real hard work for my business,” Jack adds.
Decker flips them both off.
They smirk.
Margie opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, then shakes her head, her cheeks turning a little pink while she digs into another bite of the cobbler.
Her eyes lift to mine, and I swear hers are telegraphingalmost had a whoops there.
Like she was about to say something about them reminding her of her and her sister.
Or about one of her employees. She has to have dozens of them.
A soft breeze blows in, carrying more of a chill than there was a minute ago before the sun dipped below the horizon.
Lucky rises and starts gathering dishes, but his mom stops him. “You hosted and cooked. I’ll clean.”
“I’ll help,” Margie says.
And she does.
Margie, the secret billionaire heiress in disguise, insists on staying until the dishwasher is running and the hand-washed dishes are all put away.
Then she hugs each of the triplets and thanks them for a fun evening.
And I don’t feel bad anymore about the tiny little lies I’ve told Decker.
Sheisa good person.
Complicated, but good.
And I don’t regret supporting the idea that she could belong here. That she could be one more member of their family.
You’re such a sucker, my dick mutters.
I tell it to fuck off.
As much as I want it to, anyway.
Margot’s right.
