Chapter 15
Bliss
By the time we stepped into my dad’s backyard, the whole Bennett ecosystem was already operating at full volume.
Smoke rolled off the grill in thick, dramatic clouds while Dad stood in front of it with a beer in one hand and tongs in the other like a man commanding troops instead of overcooking meat.
Classic rock blasted from the speakers under the patio awning, the pool shimmered bright blue under the afternoon sun, and the yard smelled like charcoal, sunscreen, cut grass, and whatever seasoning my father had decided would spiritually rescue dry ribs this week.
Kids shrieked near the gate. Someone’s lawn chair collapsed beneath a grown man who absolutely deserved it.
Knox and Lyon were already yelling about whether street hockey before dinner was “bonding” or “premeditated injury,” and Emmitt stood at the cooler pretending he hadn’t already stolen two beers out of it.
It should have felt like any other Sunday.
It didn’t though because Cade walked in beside me with the potatoes in one hand while I carried the coffee I had stolen from him three times on the drive over, and he had the relaxed, lethal confidence of a man who had kissed me stupid in my kitchen, dragged me to my bedroom, and then carried on with his day like ruining me before a family barbecue was simply efficient time management.
I hated him a little, but not enough.
Never enough.
The second we came through the gate, Knox looked up from where he was arguing with Kellen over hockey sticks and grinned like he’d been waiting all week to be insufferable. “Well, well, well. Look who brought the captain back.”
Kellen leaned around him, eyes going immediately to Cade’s hand on the foil pan. “He brought potatoes again. That’s commitment.”
“It’s strategy,” Cade said smoothly, setting the pan on the outdoor table. “Your family respects starch.”
Dad pointed his tongs at him from the grill. “Smart man.”
I shot Cade a look. “Do not let them encourage you.”
Cade’s mouth curved as he glanced down at me. “Too late, Pip.”
That nickname hit differently now. It had always done something stupid to me, but after last night, after this morning, after his mouth and hands and that smug little “benefit number one” look on his face, it landed like a hand sliding beneath my skin.
Warm. Possessive. Familiar in a way I did not know how to survive.
Ryker noticed. Of course he noticed. My oldest brother had fireman instincts, dad instincts, and an extremely irritating ability to sense when I was attempting to act normal and failing.
His eyes moved from Cade to me, then back to Cade. “You two look suspicious.”
“I always look suspicious,” I said immediately.
“No,” Emmitt called from the cooler. “You look guilty.”
“I am guilty. Of showing up with potatoes.”
“Potatoes don’t make your cheeks pink,” Kellen said.
“Sun does.”
“You’ve been here thirty seconds.”
“UV rays are aggressive.”
Cade made a low sound beside me that was not quite a laugh, and I elbowed him lightly without looking up. “Do not.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You breathed smugly.”
Dad’s brows lifted from the grill. “Did she just accuse you of breathing wrong?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dad nodded with deep fatherly wisdom. “Ah hell, she’s been blaming us for atmospheric issues since she was six.”
“Betrayal,” I said.
Knox pointed his beer toward Cade. “So, are you two dating or are we all still pretending this is about school?”
The entire yard seemed to perk up like someone had thrown gasoline on a bonfire.
My stomach dropped.
Not because I didn’t expect it. I absolutely expected it. The Bennett men could ignore subtle emotional complexity for years, but put a man near me twice and suddenly they were forensic investigators with grill smoke in their hair.
“We’re not dating,” I said.
At the exact same time, Cade said, calm as anything, “Not yet.”
Silence slammed down for half a second.
Then the yard exploded.
Knox barked out a laugh so loud the family dog jumped.
Emmitt almost dropped his beer. Kellen yelled, “Oh, I like him,” like his approval had been requested by literally anyone.
Ryker’s eyes narrowed, not angry exactly, just interested in a way that made me want to shove Cade into the pool and flee the state.
I turned on him. “Not yet?”
Cade looked down at me with all that calm arrogance and no visible survival instinct. “What? You told me to be honest.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied nothing.”
His mouth curved. “You imply a lot.”
Heat crawled up my neck so fast I almost saw spots. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I should.”
“Probably.”
Kellen slapped Knox’s shoulder like he had just witnessed a game-winning goal. “They’re definitely dating.”
“We are not,” I said, far too loudly.
Cade leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough that only I could hear. “You’re very loud for someone with nothing to prove.”
I nearly choked on my own breath as the bastard smiled.
Dad watched all of this with the slow, amused expression of a man who had raised six children and survived enough romantic disasters around his kitchen table to know denial when he saw it. “Mercer,” he said, saving me from committing a crime in front of witnesses, “you eat ribs?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You play street hockey?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You mind losing to men with bad knees and worse attitudes?”
Cade glanced toward my brothers, then back at Dad. “I’m adaptable.”
Lyon clutched his chest. “Oh, he thinks he’s cute.”
“He is cute,” Sarah said from the patio table, not even looking up from arranging paper plates.
Knox turned to her, offended. “You’re my wife.”
“I have eyes.”
Cade’s dimples appeared, and I hated how the sight of them made my entire body remember his mouth between my thighs.
Absolutely not, not here. Not with my father six feet away holding tongs.
I grabbed the nearest stack of napkins and started setting them around the table with the focus of a woman defusing a bomb.
Cade followed beside me, pretending to help, which mostly meant he stood too close and watched me try not to unravel.
Every time his shoulder brushed mine, my whole body flashed back to the kitchen counter.
The bedroom. His hands gripping my thighs.
His voice telling me to put my libido away like he hadn’t been the one to set it on fire.
“You’re enjoying this,” I muttered as I slapped napkins beside the plates.
“Immensely.”
“You are so much worse around my family now that you know they like you.”
“They have excellent taste.”
“They have low standards. Knox once trusted a man named Tank with fireworks.”
Knox yelled from across the yard, “Tank had a vision.”
“Tank had no eyebrows for three months.”
Cade laughed, and the sound rolled through me warm and stupidly satisfying.
He fit too well here now. That was the problem.
He didn’t feel like some stranger I had dragged into my loud, messy family world anymore.
He moved through the yard like he understood the rhythm of it.
Like the yelling didn’t overwhelm him. Like the chaos interested him instead of exhausting him.
He took the teasing, gave it back when he wanted, stood near me when the attention got too heavy, and somehow made the whole thing feel easier.
I had spent years believing athletes made women feel small.
Cade made me feel untouchable.
And today, high on last night, drunk on this morning, and wrapped in the dangerous knowledge that he wanted me so badly he had agreed to my ridiculous benefits-only terms with that quiet, strategic look in his eyes, I leaned into it.
Maybe that was reckless. Maybe that was stupid. Maybe it was exactly what I needed before everything went dark again.
A ball smacked against the fence, and Lyon yelled something about street hockey regulations that immediately became an argument about whether “yard rules” counted as legally binding.
Cade moved behind me while I was lining up plastic cups, one hand sliding to my waist with a confidence that made my breath catch.
Not hidden. Not obscene. Just casual enough that it could pass as affection and possessive enough that I knew better.
My body knew better too.
I stilled for half a second, cup still in my hand.
His chest came close to my back, heat pressing through the thin air between us. His mouth brushed near my ear when he said, “Relax.”
I looked over my shoulder. “You cannot say relax while doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Existing like a felony.”
His smile grazed the side of my neck before his mouth did, a quick, warm press just beneath my ear that made every coherent thought I possessed drop dead on arrival.
Holy fuck.
My fingers tightened around the cup so hard it almost cracked.
Across the yard, Emmitt shouted, “I knew it!”
Knox immediately yelled, “Hands where we can see them, Mercer.”
Cade lifted one hand lazily while keeping the other exactly where it was. “You can see one.”
Kellen howled.
I spun in his hold, cheeks burning. “Are you insane?”
“Little bit.”
“My brothers are right there.”
“I know.”
“My dad is right there.”
“I’m being respectful.”
“You kissed my neck.”
“I didn’t use tongue.”
My mouth fell open.
He looked so pleased with himself that I seriously considered throwing the stack of cups at his face.
“You are unwell,” I whispered.
“You’re blushing.”
“I’m furious.”
“You can be both.”
“Cross Check.”
That did something to him. I saw it immediately, the flicker behind his eyes, the way my use of Cross Check landed harder than I meant it to. His hand tightened at my waist for one second before he made himself ease up.
“Careful, Pip,” he murmured, and the warning in it was not for the audience.
It was for me.
For us.
For the agreement I had sold him like either of us believed the word casual still had any meaning after this morning.
Before I could answer, Dad called from the grill, “Bug, grab the buns from inside before your brothers start eating ribs straight off the platter like stray dogs.”
“I heard that,” Lyon shouted.
“You were meant to,” Dad called back.
I stepped out of Cade’s hold because I needed air and distance and maybe a full personality reset. “I’ll get them.”
Cade’s eyes stayed on me. “Want help?”
Yes.
No.
Absolutely.
Luke could be around. The thought flashed through me fast enough to sour the sweetness beneath my ribs. He had not arrived yet, at least not where I could see him, but that never meant anything. Luke moved through my life like a threat waiting for the right doorway.
“I’ve got it,” I said quickly, too quickly, then softened it with a smile. “Stay out here and let my brothers beat you at street hockey so they can rebuild their egos.”
Cade did not move for a second. His gaze sharpened, just slightly. He heard the shift. Of course he heard it.
But Knox yelled from the driveway, “Mercer! You playing or modeling?”
Cade looked toward him. “Both, apparently.”
“Cocky fucker,” Ryker muttered, but he was smiling.
I pointed at Cade as I backed toward the house. “Do not embarrass me.”
His grin cut deep. “Define embarrass.”
“Anything involving your shirt coming off.”
Kellen perked up. “Wait, why is that an option?”
“It’s not,” I snapped.
Cade’s eyes dropped over me once, slow enough to make my stomach flip, then returned to my face. “Go get the buns, Pip.”
“You are not the boss of me.”
“Not right now.” Then he winked for maximum impact.
My entire body went hot.
He turned away before I could respond, walking toward my brothers with the kind of calm, swaggering confidence that made every Bennett man instantly start talking shit before he even reached the driveway.
Knox tossed him a stick. Lyon pointed at the makeshift goal.
Ryker started laying out rules nobody would follow.
Dad called for no blood before dinner, which was optimistic considering the family involved.
For one second, I stood at the patio door and watched Cade step into the middle of them.
He looked over his shoulder once.
That one look did something impossible to my chest.
Not because it was sexual, although with Cade lately everything felt like it had heat threaded underneath. This was different. He was in the chaos now, in my chaos, and still checking where I was like I was the thing he tracked automatically.
I turned before the feeling could get big enough to name and slipped inside.
The house was cooler than the yard, quiet in comparison, though the laughter outside still pushed through the open windows in warm bursts.
The kitchen smelled like barbecue sauce, lemonade, and the faint vanilla candle Sarah always lit even though Dad claimed candles made food taste “decorative.” Sunlight spilled across the counters, catching on trays of sliced tomatoes, tubs of potato salad, and the giant unopened bag of hamburger buns Dad had definitely forgotten were sitting on the island.
I exhaled slowly and pressed both palms against the counter.
Get the buns, go back outside, stand near Cade, and let yourself feel untouchable for five more minutes.
Easy.
My pulse was still unsteady from his mouth on my neck, my skin still alive where his hand had held my waist. I hated how quickly he could turn me into this version of myself.
Warm. Wanting. Reckless enough to flirt back in front of my family.
Reckless enough to like the way my brothers saw us and immediately knew something was happening.
Because something was happening and it didn’t matter what I called it.
The thought made my chest tighten, so I grabbed the buns with both hands and forced myself to move.
Then the back door clicked softly behind me.
At first, I thought it was Cade. My stomach flipped before I could stop it. I turned with a smile already starting, ready to tell him he was going to get us both murdered if my brothers caught him following me into the kitchen after the neck-kiss incident.
The smile died before it formed.
Luke stood just inside the door, one hand still resting on the handle and the house seemed to go silent around him.
Outside, laughter exploded from the driveway, muffled and far away, Cade’s voice mixed with my brothers’ as street hockey started getting set up.
My safe world was suddenly too far away.
Luke’s eyes dropped to the buns in my hands, then lifted to my face.
“Blissy?”
My fingers tightened around the plastic bag until it crinkled loudly in the quiet kitchen.
And just like that, every bit of warmth Cade had left on my skin turned cold.