Chapter 11 #3
“I don’t know.” She seems to hesitate. “Were you aware that Noah has a criminal record?”
“Is this your way of saying your cousin is on the list of people I’m not supposed to fraternize with?”
“That didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t answer mine.”
“I asked mine first.”
There’s no point in dodging, is there? “Yes,” I say slowly. “I’m aware that your cousin has a criminal past.”
“I’m surprised he’d share that.” She looks thoughtful as she towels off a wineglass. “The rest of the family never talks about it. I sometimes wonder if my cousins even remember their brother did time.”
“I can tell you for sure that Noah hasn’t forgotten.” I need to be careful. To avoid saying anything that might betray Ark Man or the people he works for. “No one who’s served a sentence has the luxury of forgetting about it. People have a tendency not to let that sorta thing go.”
“Hmm.” She grabs the next glass I set on the counter beside her. “I suppose that’s true.”
“What does Noah do for work, anyway?”
“You know, I’m not entirely sure. Some kind of international commerce or customs brokering or…” She trails off, looking perplexed. “I actually have no idea.”
“Huh.” So much for seeing if Hazel knows more than I do. “I’ll ask you again—are you saying I shouldn’t spend time with your cousin, given his criminal past?”
She spends a long time formulating her answer. “No,” she says slowly. “Whatever his crime was—and I’ll admit that I don’t know all the details—Noah paid his debt to society.”
“Clean slate, huh?” I’m sensing opportunity here. “You’re extending an awful lot of grace to your cousin.”
“I suppose.”
“How about for the father of your children?”
Another long pause. “Have you been to the prison lately?”
“No.” At least I can answer that honestly. “Have you?”
“Yes.” Her gaze darts away. “I visit my father at least once a week.”
“Kind of you.”
“He’s excited about the grandbabies.” She’s not meeting my eyes as her hand moves over her belly. “I’m hoping he’ll be able to meet them when the time comes.”
“Mmhmm.” I’ve never investigated the rules for bringing newborns into a medium-security prison, but I’m guessing she won’t have an easy time doing it. “Please promise you won’t bribe the guards to smuggle our daughters into a federal penitentiary.” I’m only half kidding.
“Of course I wouldn’t.”
“Okay then.” I glance over at Squash, who sits cleaning herself at the top of her cat tower. Wherever she’s been, whatever she’s seen before coming to live in this mansion, she’s settled nicely into her pampered new life.
“I’m sorry, Luke.”
I don’t miss a beat. “Jade. Piper. Summer—”
“I’m serious right now.” Sighing, she tucks the last wineglass in the cupboard above her. “I can’t seem to stop being a bitch to you.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She sounds guarded already.
“When was the last time you let yourself be soft?”
Blinking, she sets down the dish towel. “I seem to recall feeling pretty darn pliant when we toppled into bed together the other day.”
“Not what I meant.” My memory snags there a second, bubbly and warm and sexy. “I mean, when’s the last time you trusted somebody completely?”
Her eyes drop to the counter. “My father.” She speaks the words softly, twisting the dish towel in her hands. “Even after my cousins accused him, I believed him so fiercely. I defended my dad up until I couldn’t anymore.”
“That makes sense.”
“Does it?” Dropping the towel, she lifts her gaze. “Because I feel like I’m stuck in a pit of mistrust. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to climb out. I’m just stuck here, being mean to everyone. You especially.”
Squash chooses that moment to jump down from her perch. Ambling over to Hazel, she hops on her lap and starts purring.
“Yeah, I was gonna point that out.” I go back to washing the Crock-Pot. “You’re a real bully to stray animals.”
“Not what I meant.”
“Such a bitch to host your family for dinner.”
She snorts. “Like I did the cooking.”
“And all that charity work you do,” I continue, ignoring her. “Even the folks who named you one of the Top Forty Oregon Women in Business must’ve said it—Hazel Spencer, only out for herself.”
She sighs and sets down the dish towel again. “Why are you so nice to me?”
“Aside from the fact that you’re incubating our children?” Ignoring the pot I’ve been scrubbing, I lean back on the sink and dry my hands with a cream-colored dish towel. “I like you, Hazel. In case that wasn’t obvious.”
When she lifts her eyes, they look shimmery. “I like you, too.”
“Why do you sound so surprised by that?”
“Because I’ve tried so hard not to.”
“I’m a likeable guy.”
“You really are.” A tear rolls down her cheek. Looking embarrassed, she dashes it away. “You’re a really good guy, aren’t you?”
Am I supposed to answer that? “I try to be.”
She slides off her barstool and joins me at the sink. “Look, I know I’ve said I don’t want us to date. I still believe firmly we have no business embarking on anything other than a platonic co-parenting relationship.”
Her sharp words contrast with the soft hands wrapping around me.
She’s hugging me tightly, pressing her body to mine.
I let my hands drift to the small of her back, dipping my chin to inhale the sandalwood scent of her hair.
I’m conscious of every spot where our bodies connect.
Her breasts kiss my chest, the mound of her belly curving into the space below mine.
Behind me, the dish-soapy bubbles fizz and pop.
Hazel releases a shuddery breath. “Learning to parent will be tricky enough without juggling a romantic relationship.”
“This isn’t romantic?” I say softly.
She laughs. “You’re up to your elbows in dirty dishes and I’m gassy and bloated.” A hiccup slips out like it’s proving her point. “It’s a pregnancy thing, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize for bodily functions.” I stroke my hands up her back, cupping the wings of her shoulder blades.
I glide them back down, brushing the upper curve of her rear.
“Don’t apologize for the fact that the dad you defended left you with a mountain of trust issues.
You don’t owe me a single ‘I’m sorry,’ Hazel. Not one damn apology.”
Tipping her head back, she looks into my eyes. “What about penance?”
“Huh?”
Something salacious sparks in her eyes, a gleam that wasn’t there a moment ago. “I really think penance would make me feel better.”
“Uh…okay.” My cock stirs to life as she grinds against me. “You’re Catholic?”
“No.” She licks her lips. “But I do feel like being on my knees would help.”
“Uh…what?”
All the blood leaves my brain as she folds up the dishtowel and drops it at my feet. “Oops,” she says, grinning. “I don’t have time to go get the kneepads, so this will have to do.”
“What are you—oh my God.” I stare as she sinks to her knees, hooking her fingers on my belt buckle. “Hazel.”
“I haven’t always been good to you, Luke.” She unfastens my belt, eyes searching mine. “In fact, I’ve been very bad.”
“The worst,” I grit out as she tugs down my zipper. “Such a terrible, horrible—oh my God, woman.” Gripping the counter, I watch as she draws me deep into her lush, heated mouth. “Are you trying to kill me?”
She giggles around me but doesn’t stop sucking. It’s probably wrong to love watching this act by the woman who’s carrying my children. Wrong to love seeing Hazel down on her knees. So fucking wrong how much I love the hot, slick slide of her mouth.
“Don’t stop,” I gasp, gripping the counter. “Please don’t fucking stop.”
She doesn’t.