The Woman with the Wallet (Costa Family #10)

Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Miko

I woke up to something I could only describe as caterwauling. For one second, I thought an animal had gotten into the apartment, gotten stuck, and started making its objections known.

Until I remembered I wasn’t alone.

That I had Chuck staying with me.

Even as I thought that, I could make out the words he was attempting to sing. And failing miserably.

Turning, I glanced at my alarm clock. For a second, I couldn’t decide if it was four in the afternoon or morning. The darkness outside the window wasn’t much help.

But the soft sigh beside me had me forgetting all about stupid shit like the time of day. When did that matter when you had a woman like Max in bed with you?

Turning, I realized how close she was.

She had no covers on, so I figured she was seeking my heat in her sleep. Her hair was still partially wet and half-covering her face. Reaching out, I slipped it away, excited for the day when I could see her face without all the bruises again.

I knew it was probably too early to say that kind of shit to her. Especially because she was so guarded. But I had a feeling that this thing going on between us, it was something different. Something more than I’d ever had with a woman before.

I was debating going ahead and waking her up to finish what I’d started right before I’d taken a shower.

But it was right then that there was a series of clatters in the kitchen loud enough to make Max grumble and turn over in her sleep.

“Whoops,” Chuck said, making me sigh as I climbed out of bed, taking a second to pull the covers over Max, then going out to make sure Chuck wasn’t breaking everything I owned.

“Chuck, the fuck you doing?” I asked as I made my way into the kitchen to find Chuck had damn near every one of my pots and pans out on the counter.

“Got hungry. You two didn’t want to wake up when I came to check on you—“

“You what?”

“Came to check on you.”

“You came into my room when we were sleeping?”

“I hadn’t heard from you.”

“Because I was sleeping . Did you knock?” I asked, a little concerned that I would have slept through that, regardless of how tired I was.

“No, just opened the door and looked in. Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything.”

Christ. I had to make sure I locked the door the next time. In case there was anything going on that I didn’t want his ass to see.

“Alright. What are you making?” I asked, seeing most of the contents of my fridge scattered around in various states of preparation.

“I don’t know,” Chuck said.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’m letting the ingredients speak to me.”

“Yeah? What are they saying?”

“Mostly that I don’t know what I’m doing,” Chuck admitted, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

To that, I huffed out a laugh, remembering when my baby sister had tried to cook a meal for our mom on Mother’s Day, only to end up crying into her pancake mix until I moved in to help.

“Alright. Well, what do we have here?” I asked, clapping my hands as I moved in front of a pile of chopped food on the cutting board.

“Garlic, onion, tomatoes, and those green stick things.”

“Green stick things. Or as the rest of us call them, chives,” I said. “Well, you’ve got a good base for a pasta sauce. Stick it in a pot and get it simmering. Then boil some water for pasta.”

“Can I tell Max I made it?” he asked as he dumped the whole lot of veg into a saucepan.

“Yeah. But before you do, add some oil to that.”

“Okay. Like… coconut?”

Jesus.

“Like olive,” I corrected. “While you’re at it, add some water, a teaspoon of sugar, some basil, and salt.”

With any luck, the end result would be halfway edible.

“How about garlic bread?” he asked.

“Look, Chuck, let’s not get ahead of ourselves, alright?” I suggested, going to the coffee maker to get a cup brewing.

“Max still asleep?” Chuck asked, getting a box—of all the choices—pinwheel pasta out of the pantry, making me pluck it out of his hands and replace it with some spaghetti.

“Yeah, she’s had a long couple of days,” I explained, knowing I was guilty for most of it.

With that in mind, I reached for my phone, getting to work on finding a great inn for the girls to sneak away to a town that had lots of local attractions—from a cider mill that sold ‘the best donuts in the state’ to skiing and lots of shops and restaurants—and went ahead and booked a room, figuring they could be up there in five or six hours once Max told them to pack up and head out, so at most, the room would sit empty for a day.

“How do I know when the noodles are ready?” Chuck asked as he tossed them into the boiling water.

“Just set a timer for eight minutes,” I said, not trusting him to go by a taste test. “Then strain it into this,” I told him, setting the colander into the sink. “And try not to burn yourself. Alright. I’m gonna go wake up Max. She’s gotta be starving,” I told him as I moved down the hallway.

I closed the door as the music got louder again in the kitchen, making Max grumble and roll onto her back.

The covers slipped down her body. Her t-shirt slipped up, exposing a few inches of her stomach as her breasts rose and fell under the thin material. I was suddenly thankful I kept the thermostat cool to sleep because her nipples were pebbled up in the chill of the room.

I forgot all about my empty stomach as I pushed the door lock before moving deeper into the room.

I slid in beside her, just taking a minute to watch how soft she was in her sleep, that tension she usually had in her jaw slacked.

Reaching out, I brushed some of her hair out of her face again, making her nose wrinkle up as she lifted a hand to swat at me.

Finding my hand there, her eyelids slowly slipped open, fluttering for a second, trying to get her bearings before she glanced over to see me there.

“Oh,” she said, her voice thick. “Hey.”

“Hey, sugar. Sleep well?” I asked.

“Your bed doesn’t talk.”

“Uh, what was that?” I asked, worried she might still be asleep.

“My bed moans and groans when I turn over,” she told me with a little yawn. “What time is it?”

“Dinner time. Chuck cooked.”

“Oh, God.”

“I supervised,” I said as she turned to look at me.

“You cook?”

“Not often, but I’m capable of it.”

“I don’t want to move yet,” Max admitted, exhaling hard.

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” I said, letting my fingers drift down the side of her face, her chin, then neck.

Max took a deep breath, making her tits stretch the material of her tee. There was no stopping my hand from gliding down, from closing over one of the swells.

So close, I could feel the shiver that coursed through her even as her eyes went heavy-lidded.

“No?” she asked, letting out a little sigh as my fingers started to trace around her nipple.

“Nope, can stay here as long as you want,” I said, leaning over, then sealing my lips over hers.