Things between Garrett and me hadn’t grown any less tense in the two weeks Liddy and I had been living in his house. And that was still how I thought of it—his house.

With how we left things after that kiss, I hadn’t found the nerve to ask him about turning the sprawling mansion into a home. I didn’t feel like it was my place. True to his word, he spent the majority of his days out of the house, and when he was home, he was with Liddy. He might have been absent with me, but he was keeping his promise to do better with Liddy. And my monkey was on cloud nine.

Meanwhile, I felt more and more like an interloper with every passing day. The few times Garrett and I had crossed paths, he’d been cordial but chilly in his greeting. I tried to ignore it, burying myself in work, Liddy, and my writing, but I couldn’t get rid of the niggling guilt gnawing at my stomach. Garrett and I would never become friends if things remained the way they were; I needed to find a way to extend an olive branch. Unfortunately, I didn’t know Garrett well enough to guess what might work.

But I knew someone who did.

I walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeepot, already blessedly full. “Morning, Rosita.”

The small cook turned from her place at the stove with a bright, happy smile. “Ah, good morning, Miss Gwen! Breakfast?”

I nodded as I took my first sip. Rosita cracked two eggs into the frying pan and began scrambling them up while I moved to the barstool across the island and took a seat. I was pretty much a zombie before my morning caffeine kicked in.

Halfway through my first cup, I was finally starting to feel somewhat normal when Liddy’s loud laughter cut through my sleep-addled brain. Six seconds later, Garrett came clomping into the kitchen with her on his shoulders.

“Mommy!” she shouted with glee. “Look how tall I am!”

“Wow, monkey.” I grinned sleepily. “You’re a giant.”

I turned my grin on Garrett and got nothing more than a vague lip twitch in return. My heart squeezed uncomfortably in my chest. That hurt. I didn’t want it to, but it did. It was selfish and inconsiderate, but I wanted him to look at me the way he’d done that night before our kiss. I missed it. That look made me feel alive, wanted… special.

All of which made me an asshole since I was the one to pull away.

“Good morning,” I said softly.

I got a chin tilt in response. His arctic face melted slightly when he disregarded me and glanced in Rosita’s direction. “Smells fantastic in here, Rosy.” He lifted Liddy off his shoulders and set her on her feet before moving toward the stove. “I’m starving. Feed me, woman.”

Liddy climbed up on the stool next to mine and I leaned down to give her a kiss, watching from the corner of my eye as Rosita batted Garrett away with her spatula.

She finished up at the stove and set a plate on the counter for each of us, Liddy’s nonstop chatter filling what would have been an awkward silence. I stuffed the last of my eggs into my mouth and sucked back the dregs of my coffee, then pushed off the stool and took our empty plates to the sink. I went to the coffeemaker for a refill and propped my hip on the counter, facing my daughter. “Time to brush your teeth, monkey.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted.

“Too bad. You brush your teeth and maybe we can go to the park today.”

That bribe seemed to cheer her up, and she asked, “Can Daddy come with us?”

I looked at Garrett even though he wouldn’t meet my eyes, waiting for a reaction from him. If Liddy wanted him to come, I wouldn’t say no. Besides, maybe that would give me a chance to apologize. “What do you say?” I asked when he didn’t respond. “Feel like heading to the park for a bit?”

He barely looked at me, choosing instead to look at Liddy. “Sorry, munchkin, but I got some work to do over at Uncle Mace’s.” That was another thing that set me off-kilter these past couple of weeks. While I remained a visitor in our new home, Liddy was finding her place with not only her father but the other members of Civil Corruption. Killian, Declan, and Mace were over all the time, working in the studio. Liddy had taken to calling all three of them “uncle,” and the guys seemed to love it. Even quiet, stoic Killian smiled when she referred to him as Uncle Kill.

Ignoring the way my belly plummeted, I mustered up a smile for my daughter, who seemed as disappointed with his response as I was. “That’s okay,” I offered brightly. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, sure,” Garrett deadpanned.

Pretending the lack of sincerity in his voice didn’t sting, I looked back at Liddy and repeated, “Teeth, then park, monkey. Chop chop.”

With a look of sadness on her face, she hopped off her stool and, with dropped shoulders, headed for the stairs. Rosita had disappeared somewhere, leaving Garrett and me alone in the kitchen. When he moved to leave, I reacted without giving it a single thought.

“Garrett,” I said, grabbing his forearm to stop his retreat. His jade eyes went to my hand before lifting to meet mine. I should have planned for this scenario, but I didn’t. I wasn’t good at winging it, but that seemed to be my only option so I went for it. “I…” have no fucking clue what I want to say. “Can….” Then I had a lightbulb moment. “I’m making dinner!” I announced with a little too much enthusiasm.

“What?”

“Dinner! I mean… what I’m saying is I’d like to make dinner tonight. For the three of us. That is, if you’re not busy.” I wrung my hands in front of me as nerves took over.

He studied me skeptically before finally shrugging. “Yeah. Sure. Dinner sounds good.”

“Great!” I smiled brightly. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”

Garrett nodded and left the kitchen, and I went in search of Rosita. My mom always said a home-cooked meal was the quickest way to a man’s heart. I wasn’t in the market for Garrett’s heart, but hopefully this dinner would help breech the gap. And in order to do that, I needed to know Garrett’s favorite meal.

* * *

After spending the better part of the morning at the park with Liddy, the two of us hit up the grocery store on the way home for everything I might need for a home-cooked, olive branch–extending, family dinner. Rosita had been a godsend in offering up what Garrett liked or didn’t like, and I’d finally decided to go with a dish my mother used to make when I was growing up. She used to tell me there was nothing better for the soul than comfort food, so I picked the nicest, fattest sirloins I could find, spending a mint on the perfect cuts of meat.

I went old school: country fried sirloins with mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and homemade cream gravy. Rosita informed me that Garrett had a serious sweet tooth, so I made a Dutch apple pie for dessert. It was a delicious meal that stuck to your ribs, and I hoped it went over well in patching things up between the two of us.

Liddy spent an hour helping me in the kitchen before she got bored and started getting whiny. Sylvie, the housekeeper, saw how fast Liddy’s mood was turning and quickly shuttled my girl off to keep her occupied and entertained.

I put way more effort into making everything absolutely perfect than I normally would, even going so far as meticulously sprinkling the crumble on top of the pie so it was evenly layered. I was beaming with pride by the time everything was done and the gigantic table in the dining room was set. Everything smelled and looked amazing. I was sure Garrett would be impressed and this would be the first step in thawing his chilly demeanor.

Six o’clock rolled around and Garrett still hadn’t shown. I realized that I hadn’t given him the time for dinner, so I shot off a text letting him know it was ready. That pride I’d been feeling started to dwindle when another hour passed and my message went unanswered. By seven thirty, our stomachs were growling, and I had no choice but to feed my girl. I kept watching the clock on my phone, hoping he’d show as we ate, but he never did.

Eight o’clock came and went as I bathed Liddy, read her a bedtime story, and tucked her in for the night. I sent another message at eight thirty and waited… and waited. Sadness morphed into anger when another hour passed. I made the mistake of looking into the dining room on the way to the kitchen for a glass of wine and that anger swelled. If I was being honest, I was more pissed off at myself than at Garrett. I should have known better than to put myself out there, especially with him.

I was a fucking idiot, and I took that indignation out on all the food still sitting on the table. Stacking the dishes and carrying them into the kitchen, I went for the trash can and started throwing everything away, scraping the plates clean. I dumped the nearly untouched pie right on top of everything else, then moved to the sink where I scrubbed furiously at the dishes until they damn near sparkled, forgoing the dishwasher in an attempt to work out some of my aggression.

“Miss Gwen?”

I shrieked, dropping the plate as I spun around. It shattered against the tiles into hundreds of shards all around my bare feet. “Shit. I’m sorry, Sylvie. You startled me. I didn’t know you were still here.”

“Don’t move.” She scurried to the small closet that held the cleaning supplies and retrieved the broom. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized as she swept up the broken plate. “I stayed late so I could clean up after dinner.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I croaked past the lump forming in my throat.

She gave me a pitying smile as she emptied the dustpan into the garbage. “You worked so hard on dinner. You shouldn’t have had to clean it up as well.”

I let out a humorless chuckle and turned back to the sink, going for the pie platter. “Yeah, a total freaking waste of my time,” I muttered to myself.

“It’s his loss.” I turned at Sylvie’s fierce declaration, surprised to see so much frustration on her normally kind face. She and Rosita were two of the sweetest motherly types I’d ever met in my life, so to see Sylvie’s eyes flash with ire was downright shocking. She was like a freaking Mrs. Claus, for Christ’s sake.

“Sorry?”

“It’s Mr. Wilder’s loss.”

I offered up the best semblance of a smile I could manage considering I wasn’t feeling it. “Thanks. I should have saved you some—”

“That’s not what I meant,” she butted in. “I’m sure the meal was great, but I mean that if Mr. Wilder isn’t able to see the blessing living under this very roof, it’s his loss.”

“Sylvie,” I whispered.

“Known that boy for more years than I’d like to count. Seen him make countless mistakes, one right after another, which hurt like you wouldn’t imagine because I see his potential. Always been afraid he’d end up miserable and alone, but the minute you and that little angel moved in here was the first time I had hope. So if he can’t see what’s right in front of him… well, like I said, it’s his loss.”

I tried my hardest to ignore the pang of longing her words caused smack-dab in the center of my chest. I cleared the emotion from my throat and pushed my feelings on Garrett to the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind. “Thanks,” I said quietly. “And thank you for staying, but it’s already ten. You should get home. I’ll take care of cleaning up.”

Sylvie nodded, her face awash with sympathy. She left shortly after that and I went back to scouring the dishes. The front door opened twenty minutes later and I walked out of the kitchen just in time to see Ian guiding a sloppy-drunk Garrett into the foyer.

“There she is!” he shouted loudly as he pushed away from Ian and staggered toward me. His weight hit me, causing me to rock back on one foot to stay upright. I cringed at the smell of booze that hit me when he whispered, “So fuckin’ pretty. Ian, isn’t she fuckin’ pretty?”

The stench of whisky and cheap perfume was so strong it burned my nostrils and eyes. I fought against his hold while at the same time fighting my gag reflex at the offensive smell.

Even as drunk as he was, stumbling so badly he could barely stand up straight, struggling against his grip on me was like struggling against a brick wall. I got nowhere.

“Garrett, let go. You’re wasted.”

He ignored my demand but turned his head slowly back to Ian. “See, man. Only woman on the planet who doesn’t want me to touch her.” There was a bitterness to his laughter as his glassy, bloodshot eyes came back to mine. “She makes me hard just walkin’ into a goddamn room, but can’t stand it when I touch her. Talk about a hit to a dude’s pride.”

The crush of emotion that fell on me just then would have taken me to my knees if not for Garrett’s arms. I was hurt that he’d stood Liddy and me up for dinner. I was pissed as hell that it was for a party, and that he’d come home smelling like booze and sluts. But at the same time, my skin sizzled knowing he wanted me in that way.

I’m a mess. There’s something seriously wrong with me.

Ian came over and easily untangled us, which wasn’t much of a surprise since he was the only guy bigger than Garrett. Ian topped him in height and muscle. “Let’s get you up to bed, Mr. Wilder.”

Self-preservation dictated that I push the desire into a box in the back of my mind, lock it tight, and focus on my anger. I focused all my energy on that and working to repair my dented shield as Ian led Garrett up the stairs. I could have sworn I heard him ask Ian how to get out of the friend-zone as they disappeared down the hall.

As I went back to the kitchen to finish up and shut off all the lights, I promised myself that by the time I woke up the following morning I wouldn’t give a single fuck about Garrett Wilder and what—or who—he did.