9. Ava
AVA
H ell hath no fury like Paulina when she sees a single speck of dust anywhere in Cross Estate. And today? She’s on the warpath.
“You must do better,” she scolds, her voice sharp enough to slice through glass as she shifts her gaze back and forth between me and the other, older housekeeper, Magdalene. Her tone is firm, disapproving, the kind of tone that makes grown men check their shoes for mud.
Magdalene bows her head with practiced calm. “Of course, ma’am. We’ll get right on it.”
I hover near the doorway, holding a tray of folded linen napkins and fighting the urge to roll my eyes.
The Cross family may have money, but they’re not exactly aristocracy.
Half the rooms in this place are just for show—more furniture than function.
And Paulina treats each one like it’s a damn cathedral.
“Oh, leave them be, Paulina,” Bella Cross says breathlessly as she breezes into the kitchen.
One thing about Bella? That girl never just walks. She’s always rushing somewhere, even if it’s just to refill her water bottle.
“The house is damn near spotless.”
“It can be better,” Paulina replies flatly, not even sparing her niece a glance.
Bella raises an eyebrow and tosses her long, dark braid over her shoulder. “Why don’t you scold Levi for all those greasy car parts littering the garage? Now that’s a real crime.”
Paulina’s eyes twitch. For a second, I think she might combust right in front of us, veins in her neck straining with the effort of not saying something truly incendiary. Then she huffs like a bull preparing to charge and stalks out of the kitchen with the force of a hurricane in heels.
“Those boys will be the death of me . . .”
Bella and I wait a beat. Then we look at each other—and lose it.
I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh. Bella grins and shakes her head, cracking open a water bottle and taking a long drink like she didn’t just stir the pot and set it to boil.
“Thank you,” I say through a sigh, setting the napkins down on the counter. “She was two seconds away from giving me a mop and a toothbrush.”
Bella smirks, leaning against the marble island. “Of course. I know how my aunt can be.”
“A dust bully?”
“You know what they say. If she’s hard on you, that means she likes you.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mutter, sliding onto one of the barstools. Bella sets a plate of grapes between us, and I take one, chewing slowly.
Bella grins wider and tosses a grape into her mouth. “What happened to your car, by the way?”
The question slams into me out of nowhere. I freeze. My fingers curl around the edge of the stool. “What do you mean?”
“It showed up on a tow truck this morning,” Bella says casually, reaching for another grape. “Levi said it broke down.”
My mouth goes dry. My cheeks heat instantly, and I fight to keep my expression neutral.
“Oh. Yeah. It just kind of . . . stopped working,” I say, forcing the words out.
Bella frowns. “Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve come and picked you up.”
My heart starts beating faster. “Your brother saw me on the side of the road. He stopped. It wasn’t a big deal.”
But it was.
I can still feel the ghost of his lips on mine when he drank whiskey from my tongue. Still hear the rasp in his voice when he said my name like it meant something. And no matter how many times I’ve brushed my teeth today, I can’t seem to erase the taste of him.
Bella raises a brow, clearly reading more than I meant to reveal.
“No big deal, huh?” she says slowly, a knowing gleam in her eyes.
I look away, focusing on a random speck of flour on the counter and willing myself not to smile. Or blush. Or unravel completely.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I grumble under my breath, trying to sound casual, but the sound of footsteps behind me forces me to snap my mouth shut.
Oh, no.
“I’m just saying,” Mila’s voice floats down the hall, in some heated debate with Levi and Christian. “A bakery could really take things to the next level.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Bella chimes in, her tone far too smug for someone pretending to be neutral. There’s a glimmer in her eyes—mischief, or maybe just too much awareness—and it makes my stomach flutter with nerves.
They dissolve into conversation, discussing the possibilities of adding a café to the lodge, while I try to wrangle my heart beating frantically in my chest.
A brush of awareness slides through me the moment Levi steps up to the kitchen island beside me, his presence like static in the air—undeniable and far too close.
My pulse stutters, betraying me, like my body hasn’t quite forgotten what it felt like to have his hands tangled in my hair, his mouth hot and hungry against mine last night.
I keep my eyes on Bella, but I can feel him—every inch of him. The way he leans casually against the counter, just barely brushing my arm. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the essence of hot man.
Heat flares in my chest and races straight down to my core. I shift in my chair, crossing one leg over the other, trying to ignore the way my skin prickles with warmth. The silence stretches, thick and loaded, and I swear I can still taste him on my lips, while he acts as if nothing ever happened.
Like I imagined it.
Like he doesn’t remember every second the way I do.
I chance a glance up, quick and quiet—and he’s already looking at me.
Our eyes lock. The air pulls tight between us.
His smirk is slight, barely there, but it slices through me like a blade.
Then he turns his attention casually back to Bella, like he didn’t just set fire to my entire nervous system.
“Well, I have to go,” Bella announces, breaking through the haze and snapping me back to reality. “I’ve got a meeting with a travel agency in half an hour, and I want to show up before them to make them look bad.”
I snort a laugh before I can stop myself, shaking my head at her unapologetic villainy. She grabs her water bottle with a grin and struts from the room like she’s walking a runway.
“Please,” Mila’s voice draws my attention back to the conversation. She looks up at Christian, her brows raised in mock exasperation.
Christian tries—and fails—not to smile. His lips twitch like he’s holding back something warm and fond. I catch the subtle look between them and smirk to myself. The man is absolutely whipped, and it’s kind of adorable.
“Fine,” he relents with a sigh, looking to Levi. “We’ll be right back.”
“Sure you will,” Levi mutters with a chuckle as the couple disappears, leaving just the two of us in the room.
Well . . . this is awkward.
He shrugs, leaning back against the counter beside me like he owns the air between us. He crosses his arms, and my traitorous eyes dip to the way the muscles in his forearms flex beneath his skin. My mouth goes dry.
“Couldn’t leave it sitting there,” he says simply. “You really need to consider getting a new car.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “As soon as you show me where the money tree is around here, I’ll get right on that.”
His smile tugs at one corner of his mouth, the kind that’s quiet but dangerously charming. And somehow, it makes my heart pound even harder.
Unsure what to say or do, the first thing that comes to mind comes tumbling out of my mouth like a runaway train.
“Why is your aunt so obsessed with grapefruit?” I ask, swallowing thickly past the lump forming in my throat.
Levi shrugs, a slow, devious smirk curving across his lips like he knows exactly what game we’re playing—and how to win it.
“What’s the matter? Don’t like it?” he asks evenly, reaching forward and grabbing one from the bowl in front of me. He peels it with deliberate slowness, his strong hands working over the fruit like he’s trying to torture me with citrus.
“It’s disgusting,” I blurt, shifting in my seat as my body scrambles to recalibrate around his nearness. Why does he have to be so close? So casually, dangerously close?
“It’s good for you,” he counters with a maddening shrug, like he’s being reasonable.
I roll my eyes, resisting the urge to groan. This family is so freaking weird.
“You eat it then.”
He only smirks harder.
Challenge accepted.
He cocks his head slightly, eyes glittering with mischief, and slides the plate of grapes Bella left across the counter.
With maddening calm, he sets the grapefruit down and scoops a generous amount of sugar from the sugar bowl nearby.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he dips a piece of fruit into the sugar and makes a show of taking a piece and dipping it in, before he tosses it in his mouth.
“Isn’t that cheating?”
He cocks a brow
“What’s fun about life,” he says smoothly, grabbing another piece, “if you don’t cheat a little to get what you want?”
His gaze is fire and smoke and warning bells all at once. And then—just when I think the moment can’t get any more unbearable—he dips another segment into the sugar and holds it out for me.
Right between his fingers.
I reach to take it, but he pulls back just out of reach.
Oh, you have got to be kidding me.
I glance back toward the doorway, silently shaking my head.
He grins down at me with the kind of expression that should come with a warning label. The glint in his icy blue eyes is anything but innocent.
“Open, Ava,” he says, voice dipping lower, rougher. Commanding.
My breath hitches. “Make me.”
His hand is on my face in an instant—fingers curling beneath my chin, thumb pressing against my cheek, pinching gently until my lips part in shock.
I don’t move. I can’t. His eyes are locked on mine, and I’m rooted to the spot like a puppet strung too tightly.
Then, with excruciating slowness, he slides the sugar-coated segment across my tongue. My lips close instinctively around his fingers, and I swear the whole world narrows down to this moment.
“Suck,” he murmurs, voice so dark it coils low in my belly like heat struck from flint.
Holy. Shit.