Page 136 of You Saw the Best In Me

“I told you, Alex. Mr. Carter was a phenomenal album, but you can call me Maverick,” I say, ushering him inside.

Harper lights up when she sees him, and he greets Karina before hugging Harper, who’s still at the stove.

She wants to be a chef, and her heart is set on attending culinary school. I told her I’d support whatever decision she makes, and the money from Grams’ house would be enough to cover her tuition.

I put some aside before buying this house. That way, she’d have options for her future.

Judging by how her meal smells, I think she will make a fabulous chef.

“Let’s give them a few minutes, Mav,” Karina tugs on my arm, and I reluctantly follow her out of the kitchen.

She brings the bottle of tequila, and we snuggle on the couch, sharing a drink.

“You and me in that bedroom tonight, kitten?” I whisper, tickling her ribs.

“If you’re nice to Alex. I’ll think about it,” she teases, resting her head on my shoulder.

Her rose perfume is intoxicating, and I’ve missed her like crazy today. After my little trip, the need to be with and hold her is more potent than usual.

“Soup’s on!” Harper calls for dinner with her signature slogan, and we all sit around the table.

She serves us all and surprises us with garlic bread from dough she made from scratch. She’s been perfecting her skills and today, she knocked it out of the park.

It’s nice having a teenage sister who dreams of becoming a chef. We never go hungry around this house, and it always smells incredible in our kitchen.

I couldn’t be more proud.

My girls teamed up on me to get their way, and I’m unhappy about it. I am in charge of cleaning the dishes, and Harper is also going out for ice cream with Alex.

She begged, pleaded, and promised to be home by dark. Karina urged me to let them have a little freedom, and the diner is only ten minutes away.

The house is quiet, with Karina abandoning me to shower versus helping me with the kitchen.

She claimed she needed a self-care shower, and I rolled my eyes.

“Mav!” I hear her yell, and I race up the stairs.

She might be having a panic attack, and I try to remember where her panic pills are.

When I reach the bedroom, she’s sprawled across the bed in a lacy matching bra and panty set.

“Oh,” I manage to say, captivated by her beauty.

“Get your ass over here, Angel,” she says, wiggling her fingers at me.

“This is a surprise,” I say, kicking off my work boots and locking the door behind me.

“We rarely get the house to ourselves, and with what I plan to do with you, it’s a requirement,” she smirks, biting her lip.

I stand above her, reaching out to touch that perfect ass of hers, but she stops me.

“No touching,” she whispers, pulling me to the edge of the bed by my belt.

“But kitten,” I start to say, but she forcefully rips my jeans and boxers down.

“No talking,” she teases her hands around my thighs.

I take a breath, letting her have control.