I’ve been up since five a.m., and as usual, I’m wide awake. Not so usual is the woman in my bed at this hour. Don’t get me wrong, plenty of women have been in my bed . . . and at this hour. But not in this bed.
Propped up on an elbow, I stare down at Margot, carefully watching her deep breaths in and out as she sleeps, so relaxed and more beautiful than I’ve seen her yet.
I doubt she has the faintest clue that I’m stark raving mad about her. She’s like no woman I’ve ever known. Smart. And a smartass. Speaking of her ass . . .
My memory burns through the blanket, and I can see every line and curve of her body, even with her curled beneath the covers.
I know I caught her off-guard when I used a word like love in a sentence, but I had to throw it out there. I’d like to blame my bravado on her temptress body, but the truth is, I wanted to see her reaction. I had to know. Because I can count at least a dozen times I’ve nearly said it. To her face. With my fucking outside voice.
It’s way too soon for something like that. And who knows? Maybe she’ll be all over me like she was last night. Or maybe she’ll run for the fucking hills because I’m a lunatic, and we barely know each other.
Or maybe, an annoying little voice inside my head says, she’ll find out what I’m really doing here and hate my goddamn guts.
Rather than torture myself by staying next to her, or risk waking her up at the insistence of my morning wood, I decide to head downstairs for a quiet cup of coffee so I can collect my thoughts.
Halfway down the staircase, I notice the fire’s been burning all night. It’s a little dangerous, but not nearly as alarming as the sight of two people curled up with each other on the carpet in front of it.
Seriously, the son of a bitch is goddamn lucky I don’t fucking bludgeon him to death right in the middle of the room.
I stalk over to Austin and kick him in the leg, enough to jolt him awake, but not enough to disturb the woman nestled in his arms. When he blinks awake and sees I’m two seconds from losing my shit, his eyes widen and he slips out of Evie’s arms, softly tucking the throw around her. She stirs but remains asleep.
In seconds, we’re in the kitchen, and it’s all I can do from grabbing him by the throat. Though, knowing my cousin, I’d be in for one hell of a rough ride with the special forces veteran.
His hands fly up in surrender. “It’s not what you think.”
“Right. Evelyn Banks—who’s very much engaged—is in your fucking arms, and it’s not what I think. Because I’ll tell you what I think—”
“We were talking,” he says quickly, rushing through his words to fumble out some lame explanation. “Well, she was talking. Then she was crying. Bawling her eyes out about marrying some guy—”
“The ninth richest man in the world,” I say, correcting him with a warning. “And with all the power that goes along with it.”
“Fine. Whatever. Anyway, I was just letting her get it out. She really needed someone—anyone—to listen without judgment.” When my eyes narrow on him, he keeps going. “Hey, it’s not like you’re any better when the tears start. What could I do?”
“Uh, maybe pat her on the shoulder and keep your distance? Seriously, Austin. Her fiancé is practically the Russian mob.”
Dismissive, he raises an unimpressed brow. “Right. Sure. Whatever. Anyway, at some point we both lay down. Separately. Separate throw pillows. I gave her the blanket. But at some point, I must have fallen asleep. The next thing I know, you’re kicking me like I’m a vagrant, and she’s lying in my arms with a cute little snore in my ear.”
“I don’t snore,” Evie says grumpily, interrupting the conversation as she flips on the Keurig.
I didn’t hear her come into the kitchen, and half suspect she’s been listening for a while.
“It was completely innocent, Coop. I just needed to vent.” She averts her gaze but her lower lip trembles, a sure sign the waterworks are about to start.
God help me, now I’m fighting the uncontrollable urge to hug her.
Luckily for me, she throws herself at Austin, tucking her face in his neck and crying on his shoulder until his arms wrap around her. And not some delicate little-girl cry. A big, desperate, genuinely ugly cry of a woman seriously tormented.
Helplessly, Austin gives me an I told you so glance and shrugs.
I roll my eyes as he rocks her gently and strokes her back, and I have to admit, it does look innocent. At least, as innocent as me babying Allison must have looked.
Fine. So, Austin’s not the total asshole I thought he was a minute ago, but I still shoot him the stink eye as a warning. We might share the same blood, but I’ll be at the head of the goddamn line if he needs a reminder to steer clear of engaged women.
“How would you like your coffee?” I ask Evie, snagging her attention in the hope she just needs a jolt of caffeine to get herself focused and out of her own head.
She looks up just long enough to say, “Hazelnut, cream, and four sugar cubes. Unless you have Bailey’s. Then hazelnut and Bailey’s.” Done with her crazy request, she burrows back into Austin’s hold.
I search through two cabinets before finding the Bailey’s that I’m not exactly sure how long has been here. Unscrewing the cap, I take a sniff and decide it’s fine, but give the bottle a swirl for good measure.
“It’ll be all right,” Austin tells her. At least he’s not kissing her temple. Or any other part of her body.
I hand Evie the mug that smells like a candy shop. “Well, looks like we have a quorum for breakfast. So,” I ask Austin, “what are we having?”
As Austin pulls away from Evie to check out the fridge, she immediately objects.
“He shouldn’t be punished for me.”
“He’s not being punished,” I say, chuckling as I fix my own cup of coffee.
Austin shakes his head. “I’m the one avoiding a punishment,” he says as he pulls out eggs, bacon, and shredded cheese. “If we let Coop cook, we’ll all be crunching on eggs with bits of shell in them, and a generous side of Beanee Weenees.”
I flash Evie my best boyish grin. “Cooking was never my strong suit. And with Alli being culinary challenged like me, that leaves the fate of our meals in Austin’s hands.”
“But Alli does one hell of a bang-up job with pastries,” Austin says, pointing his chin at the box of fresh danishes, muffins, and croissants from a local bakery.
I couldn’t agree more, and it takes all the willpower I have to keep from digging into them with my cup of fresh coffee in hand. But that would be rude. Highly satisfying, but rude.
“Well, I’ll make the eggs,” Evie says, volunteering rather insistently, sliding the eggs to a corner of the granite island she’s apparently claimed for her own.
“You cook?” I ask, not so much as a judgey question, but more in genuine fascination. The little I researched about her left me surprised to find her working at all.
Between her family’s wealth and her engagement to a guy who could probably buy a few countries without so much as putting a dent in his net worth, there can only be one reason Evelyn Banks is an employee of Long Multinational.
She loves it. And in an oddly obvious and overtly ironic way, she loves them.
Evie cracks several eggs in a bowl before answering. “I was alone a lot with a nanny that I hated and chefs that I absolutely adored. They could’ve gotten fired for it, but they let me help in the kitchen when my parents were away.”
The blood drains from her face, and she stops working on the eggs to look up at me and whisper, “Don’t tell Gabe I hated his mom.”
“I won’t,” I say with a chuckle. “But you’re hardly one to hold back. Don’t you think he knows?”
Evie considers it for a second before nodding. “Probably,” she says, then sips at her coffee before resuming her egg cracking.
Before long, Allison and Gabe wander in, hand in hand but not overly clingy like the first couple I encountered this morning.
The only one missing is Margot. My lips pull into a smile as I think back to why that gorgeous vixen may be exhausted. I refresh my mug and pour a second cup before heading up to check on her.
I find Margot out on the balcony wearing the pajama top I left behind. It catches a few gusts of wind that almost give me a peek at the perfectly round ass that feels amazing in the palms of my hands.
Frowning, she’s checking her phone, and my heart sinks at the possibility of a weekend that just started quickly coming to an end.
“Morning,” I say carefully, offering both cups for her to choose from.
She places her phone down, forcing her lips to a relaxed smile. “Morning. I see my legendary two-fisting is back to haunt me.”
“I’m giving you your pick. Black with just enough sugar for taste. Or Evie’s blend.”
Without a word, she reaches for the creamier cup, and I pull it away, teasing her. “You know the price of my favor.”
Playfully, she walks her fingers across my bare abs and shoulders, knowing I’m stuck holding two very hot cups of coffee. Her body is warm and soft against mine, but her lips stay a whisper away.
“You are an evil temptress.”
“Well, it’s about to get worse.” Smiling through my confusion, she takes both cups from my hands and sets them down, then returns to my arms that are now free to hold her close. I go in for a kiss, and she backs away, spurring a growl.
Her smile is diabolical. “Your price is a kiss, but you didn’t say where.”