9
“Your house is beautiful,” Westley exclaims, brown eyes wide. “And it’s so big.”
“Did you decorate it yourself?” Willow asks, doing a full circle as we walk into the kitchen.
“I did,” I say, walking over to the sliding door and letting the dogs inside. I grab Kobe by his collar before he can go over to the girls. “Be nice,” I tell him. “Or you’re going straight back outside.”
He ducks his head, all submissive, but I know what a hell-raiser he can be. The other two go up to the girls and sniff them, tails wagging, and neither jumps up on them, just like I’ve taught them.
“They are so cute!” Westley squeals, patting Snape affectionately. “And so gigantic!”
“They’re super friendly,” I tell them, not wanting either of them to be scared of the big dogs. “I’d trust both of them with my life.” I glance down at Kobe. “Now, this one, not so much.”
“He’s adorable though,” Willow adds, crouching down on her knees. “Hello, little one.”
Kobe looks up at me, his eyes promising good behavior, and his tail starts to wag, so I let go of his collar. He runs up to Willow and jumps on her, no manners at all, licking her face.
“He likes me.”
“Just let him come to you, honey,” I tell Westley as she tries to pat him. She listens, removing her hand and waiting patiently until Kobe approaches her, sniffs, and licks her hand.
I move closer to Knuckles and say, “This Christmas. It’s happening.”
I am buying them a puppy.
He laughs deeply but doesn’t tell me no, so I’m going to take that as a win. And watching them, surrounded by my pack, how could anyone say no? It’s clear they love dogs, and they’re both being very gentle and loving every second of being around them.
“Okay, I’d better start cooking before all of you get hangry,” he says, moving toward the fridge.
I hover around him. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing,” he replies, grabbing a few ingredients. “You’re going to sit back and relax. Maybe put on a movie or something. I’ve got this.”
I watch him get to work, realizing that no one has ever cooked in my kitchen before except for me. It’s weird having someone new in my space, and I keep fidgeting, not sure what to do. I can’t just sit down and do nothing while he cooks in my house. He should be the guest.
“I’ll watch a movie with you,” Westley says, grabbing my arm and pulling me toward my living area. “Have you seen High School Musical? It’s a classic, I think.”
“Uhh, no I haven’t,” I admit, looking back toward the kitchen, where Knuckles is wearing a smile too mischievous to make me think this was his daughter’s idea. I sit down with his girls, and Willow picks a movie on Netflix, which I watch for about twenty minutes before I get up to see what Knuckles is doing.
“You’re a much tidier cook than I ever will be,” I tell him, sitting down on a stool.
“My mom would kill me if I left the kitchen messy,” he explains, washing some rice in the sink. “My dad wasn’t in the picture; it was just me and her, so I started learning to cook to help her out. She was a nurse, so she worked all kinds of hours, and I kind of had to feed myself. I’d leave out food for her because I knew she’d be coming home tired.”
He’s talking about her in past tense, which makes me really sad for him. He obviously loved her very much.
“Destined to be surrounded by women, huh?” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
“I sure as fuck hope so.” He grins, glancing up at me.
I roll my eyes and watch as he methodically follows a recipe from his phone, measuring out all the ingredients and expertly making use of my kitchen.
“I had no idea men like you exist,” I say after a few moments of comfortable silence. “You can cook, be chivalrous, kick someone’s ass, be a good father, and possibly do criminal activity all in the same day.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m not going to admit to the last one.”
“You don’t need to,” I reply, scoffing.
I’m many things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Yet here I am, attracted as hell to him, and considering everything, this isn’t a smart move. I reconsider my thought about not being stupid. I look at his two kids on my leather couch, both intently watching the movie, and ask myself how I let it get to this point. His girls are wonderful, and Knuckles is unlike any man I’ve ever met.
Warm hands touch my shoulders and start to massage. I close my eyes and softly moan.
“You’re so tense. What are you thinking about so much that has your cute little concentration face making an appearance?” he asks, lips near my ear, the word friend disappearing from my vocabulary as shivers run up my spine.
“Just . . . stuff,” I reply vaguely, relaxing as he continues to work magic on my shoulders. “I can’t shut my thoughts off sometimes, especially at night.”
“I know just the cure for that,” he says in a low tone. “You need to be tired out. Then you’ll fall straight asleep, and your overactive mind won’t be able to keep you up.”
My eyes open. Did he just say tire me out? He wants to fuck me to sleep? It’s been a long-ass time since anyone has done that, and I swallow hard at the thought of it. I squeeze my thighs together and shift, then clear my throat.
Fuck, he’s not playing fair.
“I bet you do,” I reply, trying to play off the reaction my body seems to have to him. “I’m sure you’re more than qualified in that field.”
He makes a humming sound. “I have experience, yeah, I guess, but it’s you who’s going to benefit from that,” he whispers, and then his hands disappear from my shoulders as he returns to the stove and continues to prepare our meal.
“I’m just going to go . . . back there,” I say, blinking furiously, and quickly return to the living room to pretend to watch the movie. I ignore the warm laughter I hear at my departure and turn my attention to the girls.
“Are you and my dad, like, dating?” Willow asks me quietly so Knuckles can’t hear.
“We’ve never met anyone he’s dated before,” Westley adds, tilting her head to the side in a thoughtful way. “I don’t think he’s dated anyone since Mom.”
I smile at her, knowing how far from the truth that must be. “I only just met your dad, so we’re friends for now.”
“Friends with benefits?” Willow asks, smirking.
My eyes widen. “How old are you again?”
She rolls her eyes and pushes her bangs out of her eyes. “I’m thirteen. I’m in middle school, and it’s very . . . educational.”
“Practical learning or theory?” I ask, a nervous laugh escaping me. I was still playing with dolls at thirteen, okay maybe not dolls, but I definitely wasn’t interested in boys. Boys still had cooties.
“Theory,” she says, laughing. “You should see your face right now.”
I try to school my expression and shake my head at her. “I’m sorry! No judgment, I promise. I just don’t really know anyone your age, so I have no idea what goes on in schools nowadays.”
“Willow doesn’t have a boyfriend,” her sister tells me, sighing exaggeratedly. “And neither do I. Dad says we have to wait until we’re sixteen before we’re allowed to date.”
“Dad would scare off anyone anyway, I don’t think it matters how old we are,” Willow grumbles, hugging the navy pillow I keep on my couch.
“Damn straight,” Knuckles calls out, and Willow flashes me a look that says, I told you so.
“Wait until you’re sixteen, worry about it then,” I tell the two of them, hiding my smile.
Although with Knuckles as their dad and an MC at their back, I can’t imagine they’re going to have much luck.
But that’s for future them to worry about.