She nods, and Alex moves to sit beside her, holding the book so she can see the pictures. Her little head is snug against his side, and I slip out of the room, going down to the kitchen to wait for him to finish.

  CHAPTER 11

  ALEX

  Cass is a fucking natural when it comes to kids. No wonder Britt said she should be a teacher.

  Listening to them talking in the bathroom, P telling her about her mom and Cass sharing her own story, was a simultaneous punch to the gut and a soothing caress.

  Why didn’t I consider that Penelope might misinterpret my mother’s trip to Italy as another abandonment? Of course she did, but Cass handled it beautifully.

  So beautifully I want to give her a raise.

  Not only did she navigate those waters, she managed to calm my little sugar fiend so well, she was asleep before I even made it halfway through the book, and it’s her favorite, a dog-eared copy of Dogzilla, passed down through the grandkids since it belonged to Adam.

  Hustling down the stairs, I find Cass leaning on the bar studying her phone. I pause a moment to take in her long frame. Her hair hangs in loose waves down her back, and she’s wearing black yoga pants and another one of those sweaters that falls off one shoulder like a tease.

  I imagine sliding the other one down, and the entire garment dropping to the floor. It’s an image that makes my dick hard, knowing what’s hidden beneath—her perfect breasts, her flat stomach, her round hips.

  I want to taste her…

  She hears me and stands quickly, shoving the phone into a pocket on the side of her pants. Her expression is worried, and she’s talking fast.

  “I’m sorry I keep screwing everything up.” Her chin drops, and she shoves a shiny lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I didn’t know what to say when Penelope brought up her mom just now. I should’ve just listened to her and waited to ask you what to do. I shouldn’t have assumed or tried to—”

  “Stop apologizing.” It comes out as more of an order than I intend, and she stops short. I walk over to the cabinet and take down a bottle of the single-barrel reserve I keep at the house. “Want a drink?”

  She nods, and I take two tumblers from the cabinet and pour each of us a glass.

  “I’m not angry at all. I’ve never heard Penelope talk to anyone the way she talks to you, outside of family, and I thought you handled it very well, considering she caught you off guard.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice is soft, and she studies the glass of whiskey. “She has all your expressions. It’s so funny to see her little face so serious, so like you. Only the color’s wrong.”

  “She gets that from Jessica.” I take a small sip, savoring the rich, smoky flavor.

  “Was that your wife?”

  “We were never married.”

  “Oh, I thought…”

  “Everyone did. But we were no more married than you and I are engaged.”

  Her cheeks flush, and she shakes her head, taking a sip of whiskey. We’re quiet a moment, until she asks. “Why not?”

  I think about those months, Jessica being pregnant, the conversations we had, the deals and negotiations between us.

  “We were never in love.” Confusion lines her eyes, and I explain. “You know those stories about one-night stands that turn into love? We didn’t have that. We were too different. She wanted to travel to war zones, document what was happening, live her life on the edge of death all the time.”

  “It sounds exciting.”

  “Maybe. For some.” I take another sip of whiskey. “I wanted a family. I wanted Pinky, and she wanted freedom.”

  “Wow. That’s tough.”

  Shaking my head, I exhale a laugh. “It’s not as dramatic as you think. It was actually pretty simple. We shook hands and walked away. We both got what we wanted.”

  “She gets a life of adventure, and you get a funny little girl who eats too much cake on a Sunday night?”

  “I’ll take my side of the bargain any day.” I clink her glass softly. “By the way, whatever you did at bath time worked. She was asleep after three pages.”

  “Just good old-fashioned lavender, cedar, and ylang-ylang.”

  “I have no idea what that is, but I liked getting to hear you sing again.”

  Her cheeks flush, and I watch as she sips the whiskey.

  “Everyone was right,” I continue. “You’re very good with children.”

  Setting her glass down, she frowns thoughtfully. “Kids are easy. Whatever they’re thinking comes right out of their mouths. I appreciate that level of honesty. A child would never ghost you.”

  Leaning on my elbow I study her, liking what I see more and more with each passing minute. “It helps they have no phones or social media.”

  “I still don’t think they would. Kids are too real. They don’t hide their feelings the way adults do. They don’t lie or play politics.”

  “I’ve never liked politicians either.” I finish my glass, feeling more relaxed myself.

  She tilts her head to the side. “You do have to play politics to sell your brand. You have to talk to people you don’t know and convince them to try your product.”

  “That’s different.” I take a step closer. “I’d never ghost you.”

  Exhaling a laugh, she drops her chin. “I believe you. You have no problems being direct, and it seems you always know what you want.”

  She has no idea.

  “Speaking of what I want, about this engagement…”

  “Oh, God,” she groans, dropping her face into her hands. “What a mess.”

  Reaching into my pocket, I remove a black velvet pouch I retrieved from my room before heading upstairs. “This is for you.”

  Her hand lowers, and she takes the pouch from me. “What is it?”

  She loosens the knot and takes out a delicate gold ring with a large diamond swaddled in two angel’s wings.

  “Oh…” It comes out as a gasp. “It’s so beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Try it on.”

  Blue eyes fly to mine. “You’re giving this to me?”

  She slips it on her finger, and I notice it fits perfectly.

  “Since Drake is hanging around a few more days, you can use it when you need to. Or, hell, wear it all the time. Whatever makes sense.”

  Her lips are parted, and I remember kissing her, slipping my tongue between those soft pillows, tasting her sweetness. I remember her beautiful voice singing in the ocean so long ago, I believe in angels…

  “Did you buy it for her?” Her question pulls me from my fantasy.

  “What?” My brow furrows. “For who?”

  “Penelope’s mom. Was this for her?”

  I almost laugh. “No.” The thought of giving this ring to Jessica is ludicrous. “I saw it in a jewelry store in Hawaii, and I bought it.”

  “I love it, but it’s not for me.” She shakes her head, looking down at the ring.

  “Why not?” A touch of amusement is in my tone.

  “I’m no angel. I’m a mess. I have no direction, I’ve had a million jobs, I still don’t know who I want to be, and I’m practically thirty.”

  She has no idea how wrong she is.

  Lifting my hand, I trace a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “I think you’re smart and curious. You’re a little wild, but what’s wrong with that? Even the angels take their share of bourbon.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The angel’s share is the amount of bourbon that evaporates during aging.”

  “Bourbon-drinking angels.” Shaking her head, she turns away. “That’s not me. I’m just like my mother—ask Drake.”

  Anger tightens my stomach. “Drake is a douche, and I’d never agree with his sour-grapes opinion of you. I’ve never met your mother, so I can’t know if you’re like her, unless she’s kind and supportive of her friends.”

  “When I was a child, I’d lie and tell people my mother was a Broadway singer so I didn’t have to tell them the truth.” Her voice is quiet. “The truth is she was a failed Branson climber, who never came back for me.”

  Our glasses are empty, and I study the hurt in her eyes. “Then I’d say you’re nothing like her. After hearing you with my daughter, I can’t imagine you leaving a child behind.”

  “Drake also said I was a gold digger.”

  The anger in my stomach moves to my fist, and I expect I’ll have to pop that guy in the mouth one of these days. “If that were true, you’d still be with him.”

  “I suppose.” Her eyes meet mine now. “You know what I’d really like? I’d like to find something that makes me happy, and then just do it forever—be very boring and predictable for the rest of my life.”

  A laugh slips through my lips. “I can’t think of anything worse.”

  “You’re one to talk. You measure every action, plan every step, control every outcome…”

  “I wouldn’t be a single dad if that were true.”

  “But it worked out for you, and you’re doing what you love and being predictable.” Her pretty eyes return to her empty glass. “I’m like a dandelion puff blowing in the wind.”

  I trace the line of her profile, her upturned nose, her full lips. I remember how lost I felt in San Diego after Pinky was born and Jessica left. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I wanted. I thought about the past and the things I left behind, and I booked the next plane home.

  This beautiful girl was only a memory then. Now she’s standing right in front of me. “You’re so much more than that.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know enough. I’ve known you since we were kids, and we have a month to get to know each other as adults. Maybe after that, you’ll see yourself the way I do.”

  “You see me as wild. I think you’re being generous. Messy, yes, but wild?” Her dark head shakes, and I’m ready to pull her to me.

  “You’re not afraid to try new things. You’re not afraid of bullies… And you like to swim naked in the ocean.”

  “That doesn’t make me wild. That makes me impulsive.”

  “We have a whole month to see who’s right.”

  Her eyes slant, and she takes a step closer. “I spent all last month at the distillery, and I barely saw you. Why should this month be any different?”

  I take a step closer, like a magnet drawn to metal. “I was focused on the new line last month. Now that it’s launched…”

  Her eyebrow arches, and she lifts her chin. “You’ll be focused on me?”

  The prospect of this fans the heat smoldering in my bloodstream. “Do you trust me?”

  It’s the second time I’ve asked her this question, and that pinpoint dimple appears at the corner of her mouth when she smiles. “I’ve already told you I do.”

  I lift her left hand, loving her openness, loving how nicely my ring fits her finger, loving the idea that after all these years, our time has come.

  “Maybe we can start by having some fun.”

  CHAPTER 12

  CASS

  His nearness is overwhelming. He’s so intense, and I’ve never been the focus of all that attention. Now he’s looking at me like a meal, and I’m having a hard time staying on my feet. I want what he’s suggesting, although I’m not really sure what he means by having fun.

  I think I know, but he hasn’t said it in so many words.

  Hazel eyes trace my face, and I do the same, studying his dark hair that curls in soft waves around his ears. I want to slide the loose lock off his forehead. I want to scratch my nails through his beard and kiss him. I want to touch him like he’s mine.

  “I like having fun.” I wish I didn’t sound like a child when I said it.

  I’m sure he’s used to confident women who know what they want out of life. Women who don’t question everything, who are as focused and sure as he always is. Women like Jessica, whom I’m trying not to hate for being so bold and adventurous and living her life on the edge in Africa…

  Although, she did leave her daughter behind, which is something I would never do.

  And Alex doesn’t seem to miss her at all.

  So maybe hate is too strong a word, but I don’t like her very much.

  He lifts my hand, grinning as he studies the gorgeous ring on my finger. “Good. We can start with this engagement…”

  A cringe tingles at the back of my neck. “Apologies all around.”

  “I don’t accept them.” His voice is firm. “I like that you reached for me… for what? Protection?”

  “More like validation.”

  “How so?”

  “Oh… He’s so impressed by you.” Scrubbing my fingers over my cringey skin, I try to find the words. “I’ve never seen him impressed by anyone other than himself, and he always made me feel so worthless. I’ve always been so ashamed of my situation, my mom, and my life… When he just assumed we were together, I let him. Being with you gave me value.” My voice goes quiet. “And I never should have taken advantage of your friendship that way—”

  “I’m not your friend.” He’s stern, and shame grips my throat.

  I bared my soul to him, and this is how he treats me?

  “Right. I forgot you were always too good to be friends with me.” I start to turn away, to storm out of the kitchen when he catches me by the upper arm, pulling me to him.

  His eyes flash with fire, and my heart beats faster. The hairs on my arms rise. He’s possessive and predatory, and I remember he knows what I look like naked.

  “No, Cass…” He draws closer, forcing my head to tilt back to look up at him. Our lips are so close, his warm breath skates across my cheek. “I’m not your friend, because when it comes to us, the friend zone is not my lane.”

  I swallow and my voice is breathy. “What is your lane?”

  His hand slides up my waist, under my sweater, and his thumb circles my nipple through my sports bra. It hardens at once, and I exhale a little whimper.

  My tongue slips out to wet my lips, and his darkening eyes move to them. I can’t breathe. He continues circling, watching my lips part, making my pussy wetter as his mouth drifts lower.

  Placing my hands on his chest, I rise onto my toes. My eyes flutter closed, and I press my lips to his just like I did so long ago when he was a sad, handsome boy who’d lost his grandfather.

  When he told me I was pretty, and my entire body came to life.

  His full lips are soft and warm, and as soon as they touch mine, his hand tightens on my waist, pulling my pelvis flush against his.

  His erection is against my belly. A low growl rumbles in his throat, and he takes control.

  The kiss turns possessive, demanding. The hand on my breast moves into the side of my hair as he opens my mouth with his.

  Again, I whimper when his tongue slides against mine, curling and coaxing, and my hands rise higher, tracing my nails along his square jaw. I hold his scruffy cheeks like he’s mine, like we’re in this for real.

  Images of his naked body flood my memory, and I want him against me, inside me. No one has ever kissed me this way, like he’s staking his claim, and he’ll never let me leave him.

  “This is my lane, Cass.” His voice is rough, and his lips move to my ear. “It’s always been my lane. Understand?”

  My eyes are closed, and I’m nodding before he finishes speaking. “Yes…”

  He grips my chin in his fingers. “Look at me.” My eyes flutter open, and the raw hunger in his is a strike of electricity through my core. “Don’t ever mistake me as a friend again. I want more than that.”

  “Okay…” I’m still processing when a noise behind us breaks the scene.

  It’s a little-girl sniffle that parts us at once. I’m breathing fast when I turn, rushing to where Pinky stands at the entrance to the kitchen rubbing her eyes. I can’t tell if she’s fully awake, and I don’t know if she saw us kissing. I only know Alex isn’t in a position to help her.

  I lower to a squat in front of her. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  Her bottom lip is pushed out slightly, and she puts her hand on my shoulder, whimpering. “My balloon popped and it made a loud noise and I fell out of the sky and now my tummy hurts.”

  “Oh, no!” I pull her into a hug, and both her arms go around my neck. “Dream balloons shouldn’t pop. Let’s go back and see if we can dream up a better balloon, one of the shiny kinds that never pop.”

  She tucks her head into my neck, and I look back at Alex, who’s standing behind the bar watching me with a mixture of frustration and gratitude in his eyes.

  I walk slowly up the stairs, humming a song from Nemo as we go higher, and she’s asleep by the time we get to her bedroom. I tuck her in with Piglet and switch on the pale, blue-moon nightlight before closing the door.

  Jogging down the stairs, the mood in the kitchen has changed. The lights seem brighter, and Alex has put away the whiskey and is washing the glasses at the sink.

  I stop by the door leading out to the garage, wondering what to do. When I left things were heating up. Now it seems the moment has passed, but I don’t want to misread the situation, not after that kiss.

  “I’m pretty sure she was sleepwalking.” My voice is lighter. “I doubt she saw us.”

  He switches off the water, turning slowly to face me. “Good. I wasn’t thinking just now. Whatever I do, I can’t forget she’s a part of this. I can’t let her be confused or hurt.”

  “Of course.” It feels like a dismissal, and I take another step towards the door, clearing my throat and pulling my sweater onto my shoulder again. “You don’t have to explain. I completely understand. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He dries his hands with the towel, his dark brow furrowed. I take one last look at his handsome frame before I go. It would be so decadent to forget everything, to ask him to come with me and blur all the lines, take what we want.

  It would be so hot, but it’s not him. I’m not even sure it’s me. At least not on my first night in his home, as his employee.

  My hand is on the doorknob, when his voice stops me. “I leave for work at eight. Pinky’s usually up by then, so that can be your start time.”