Page 35 of Undone By The Mountain Daddies

I pop my hand up and give him a wave. “Hey Henry, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Impressive vocabulary for a boy who doesn’t look much older than four.

“It’s his word of the day,” sidenotes Eli, who’s looking at me with an amused expression written across his face. “And you used it correctly, Henry. Well done.”

For a change, I’m focused on something other than how good-looking the occupants of this cabin are.

Eli had a kid?

And where the hell is Henry’s mom?

Eli’s wife?

Oh, lord.

Eli pulls out some sugar for the coffee and walks toward the hallway without looking at me. Typical. Men always have something to hide. I tug on his belt loop and pull him back— a nearly impossible task since the man’s nothing but muscle.

He could absolutely continue walking down the hallway—I’m not exactly stopping him. But he turns around and faces me.

“You have a son?” I mouth up at him. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Nephew,” he whispers.

I frown. “What?”

“His parents passed away a couple of years ago,” murmurs Eli. “We’ll talk about it later.”

I keep my gaze fixed on him as he walks away. First, I find him jerking off. Now I find out he has a nephew. What’s next?

I sit down on the couch and smile at Henry. Surprisingly, he comes and sits next to me, his feet dangling in the air because his legs are too short to reach the floor. He’s a cute little thing with golden blonde hair, and when he smiles, his entire face lights up.

“Sii-enn-aa,” he says, holding each syllable.

“That’s right! You’re a smart boy.”

“That’s what Eli always tells me.”

I stare into those dark blue, innocent eyes and feel an instant wave of sadness rush through me, pushing me deeper into the couch. Losing your parents when you’re so young is rough. It doesn’t get much worse than that. The boy won’t have any memory of his parents, but sometimes it’s best that way.

Henry beams up at me and moves a little closer. He looks happy enough, which indicates that these guys are treating him well. He’s a healthy weight, and his eyes sparkle with childish innocence.

Eli returns, Cash following him down the hallway.

“How are things going, big man?” says Cash, fist-bumping the boy.

Henry slams his knuckle into Cash’s at full force. It can’t feel like much more than a slight bump to Cash, but he makes a show of shaking out his hand and wincing. “Getting stronger.”

“Yes,” says Henry, giving him a smug grin.

The light disappears from Cash’s face as soon as our eyes lock.

Even my green juices aren’t as green as his eyes.

I haven’t seen Cash since our incident yesterday morning, when he basically told me that all celebrities lie out of their asses.

Cash doesn’t look like he’s over yesterday morning either, his eyes turning cold as he looks at me.