I grab a metal spatula and shovel the largest blackened snapper from the cast iron skillet onto a platter. I love spending time at this place. During the summer months, the sun ripples off the lake and the fish practically leap onto the hook. In winter, a modest dusting of snow covers the ground. Perfect for a White Christmas, but not so cold that you freeze your balls off.

I’d always meant to buy a home out here, but never got around to it. My spacious apartment had been more than ideal for me, but now with two females, I realize we all need our space.

I turn off the gas on the six-burner stove and remove the skillet from the heat. The kitchen is one room I know my way around. This one with its high-tech appliances is no different. I’d mastered cooking early in life, thanks to my mother, who insisted I learn how to fend for myself. She was determined not to make the same mistake she’d made with Ruger and Wesson. They were spoiled rotten—unable to cook or clean. By the time she gave birth to me when they were twelve and ten, respectively, she’d wised up.

I grin as I stack the fillets on the platter. I’d wanted whole fish, but we hadn’t had time to go fishing yet. Lady Luck smiled on me when I found these in the freezer. Retrieving the salad I’d tossed together earlier from the fridge, I made a light dinner for the two ladies in my life.

We’ve been at the cabin for two days. To keep up appearances, Shayla and I pretend to share the same room. But late each night, I creep from the second story of the cabin where the bedrooms are housed and camp out in a spare room on the first floor. That way I can be awake before Cee gets up each day.

The narrow couch in the room cramps my style. My back is paying the price after two nights of tossing and turning. While Shayla rests comfortably on a memory foam mattress in the master bedroom, I suffer in silence. There is no way I’m gonna be able to stand one more night of this torture. I plan to talk to her this evening after we eat.

The insistent buzz of my cell phone captures my attention. Earlier, I’d put the darn thing on silent mode, not wanting to be disturbed this weekend. One glance at the caller ID makes me wish I could put life on hold for a while longer.

I answer the phone with one hand, and with the other, I grab tartar sauce from the fridge. “Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite agent.”

“I’m your only agent, but I’m beginning to think I might need to clone myself to keep up with you.”

“C’mon BK, it ain’t that bad.”

“Depends on your definition of bad. I know you like to bend, twist, and severely contort the rules, but what on earth were you thinking letting two prostitutes into your car?”

Brooke “The Shark” Kobayashi is the best agent money could buy. She’s gotten me out of more jams than any human deserved. I’m not the only one who bends the rules. BK is a master at twisting arms, zipping mouths, and covering up dirt. She represents two other players on the Rogues. Between the three of us, she has her hands full. She’s worth every dollar of her outrageous fee.

“It was a misunderstanding.”

Her loud harrumph echoes on the other end of the line. “If I had a nickel for every time a client told me that, I’d own the freakin’ team.”

I don’t hold back my chuckle.

“Don’t you dare laugh, Colt Emerson. This is serious. Arrested for soliciting a prostitute… You sure as hell don’t make my job easy.”

I set the bowl of salad on the counter. “Look, BK, you know me. I don’t get down like that. I don’t need to pay for sex.”

“Then why did you give them three hundred dollars?”

“Three hundred was the amount we agreed upon. I only gave them a hundred before two cops, who could have had second careers as linebackers, slammed me to the ground and tried to make me eat a dirt sandwich.”

“I’ve already spoken with Renaldo. He’ll be filing Assault and Battery charges against both of those officers.”

Renaldo, my very accomplished attorney, is the other half of the dynamic duo who looks out for me. “Did he also tell you that I gave those women money to help me find my daughter?”

“Your daughter? I didn’t know you had a baby. Is this a recent development? Did you get a DNA test?”

I take a few minutes to explain what’s going on with Cee.

“Jeez, I go on vacation for one week and all hell breaks loose with you. I just found out about your wife on TMZ yesterday. While I’ve been hitting the slopes, you’ve been building an instant family.”

“That’s what happens when you choose the Swiss Alps over me. But seriously, BK. For once in my life, I feel complete. I haven’t even thought about the Rogues cutting me in two days.”

“Speaking of that, how would you feel about making a trip to Georgia? Vince Harvoni wants to talk with you.”

“Harvoni, the owner of the Atlanta Vipers?”

“That’s the one.”

“Don’t they already have a receiver? What do they want with me?”

“I should think that’s obvious. They want to buy out your contract.”

My heart beats triple time. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed of leaving the Rogues. Now, I’ve gone from being traded to possibly having my contract bought out. It’s a tempting offer. “I don’t know. I can’t leave Shayla right now. Plus, I’m in the process of adopting Cee. Can’t I just call the man?”

“You know these things are better done in person. Besides, with so much controversy dogging you, we have to take every opportunity we can get. You’re not a highly-sought-after rookie anymore.”

My head jerks to the side. “Damn, did you hear that loud pop? It was the sound of my ego deflating.”

Her brusque laugh takes the bite out of her words. “Number one: not even my father’s prized katana could puncture your ego. Number two: I’m just keeping it real. You need to be on a plane within the next forty-eight hours. It’s not smart to keep Harvoni waiting.”

Shrieks from outside draw my attention. I glance out the panoramic kitchen windows to the back deck. “Gotta go, BK. I’ll call you later.”

I hang up in time to see Cee emerge from the lake. She pulls herself up from the incline pier and darts across the wood deck. Water flings from her swimsuit as she moves. She reaches for a fluffy towel and then dries her scrawny body with brisk motions. It’s hard to believe the girl is so skinny. She eats like a horse. My metabolism used to be that fast. Am I really getting fat and slow like Stankus said?

I trash the thought.

What does that guy know?

Shayla follows behind Cee, rivulets of water streaming down her satiny brown skin. My body heats just looking at my wife. I have a sudden urge to lick her dry. Lord, she’s gorgeous. My fingers itch to caress the curves that meld into the stunning red bikini she wears. That’s definitely her color. And so is yellow, blue, white—hell, anything she wears looks incredible.

She bends forward and clasps her hair in her hands, twisting it like a wet towel to wring the water from it. Tonight, she’ll wash it with shea butter shampoo, like she does each time she swims in the lake. I love the smell of her hair.

I wait for the tightness in my shorts to subside. I damn sure can’t walk out there as hard as a rock. After all these years, Shayla still turns me on. Her beauty, her body, her spirit draw me like a moth to a flame. But she has strict rules. No touching. Even though I’ve taken every chance to break her “commandments,” she seems immune to my charms.

I grab the platter with one hand and tuck the large bowl of salad under my other arm. A cooler of beer and soda sit waiting on the deck outside, along with paper plates. I walk out to the deck, pausing when I hear Cee’s voice.

“I’m glad you’re here. Now they won’t be so quick to take me away.”

Fingers of anguish grip my heart. Poor Cee. No matter how many times I tell her that nobody is gonna take her away, she doesn’t believe me.

Shayla’s voice is warm and comforting. “We won’t let anyone take you away. Someone would have to cut off my right arm first. And trust me, I would not look good with one arm.”

Cee giggles. “You would look cute in a one-sleeved halter top.”

Shayla laughs.

“You know, I’m lucky,” Cee tells her. “I have two people who want to adopt me. I still can’t believe it.”

I stand, rooted to the spot, waiting for Shayla to drop the bomb and tell Cee that this is all temporary. I probably look like a mannequin for a beach display, frozen in place. But my feet refuse to move.

“I guess that means you’re doubly loved,” Shayla says.

Cee grins. “I never thought about it that way.”

The two women in my life hug, and I release the breath I’ve been holding. Good, Shayla hadn’t crushed Cees’s dream. She’d told Cee exactly what she needed to hear—even if Shayla didn’t mean it. She sounded so convincing, I almost believed her. Maybe, just maybe, our marriage might have a chance this time around. And we can be a real family. One thing is certain. I’m going to have to put in work to get Shayla to believe in me again. This time around, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to prove to her that I’m everything she wants.