“Okay,” she finally relents. “But—”
“No buts, Frankie. You cooked a good meal for us, the least I can do is clean up.”
Her lip trembles but she relents, bobbing her head in a slow nod before allowing Maverick to drag her down the hall.
I make quick work of putting away the leftovers and loading the dishwasher. Maybe if I’m lucky, Frankie will let me take this for lunch tomorrow. All of the guys on my crew will be jealous fucks while they chow down on their ham sandwiches and I’m eating like a king.
I’m honestly shocked Frankie can cook like this. If I’d known, I’d have sweet-talked her into cooking for me every night. That’s okay, though, it’s never too late to start.
I wonder if she makes good fried chicken? I ponder idly as I wipe down the countertops.
Once the kitchen is sparkling clean, I plod into the living room and plant myself in the chair facing the hall. I want to make sure Frankie doesn’t try to sneak their door closed before I can tell Mav goodnight.
He and I must be on the same wavelength, because not even a minute later, he comes barreling down the hall in a pair of green Hulk pajamas.
“O!” He flings himself into my lap, securing his arms around my neck. “Will you come read to me? Please?”
“Is your mama okay with it?” I ask, knowing damn well I need her consent. I may want to push her limits, but I’m not trying to cross boundaries and take us into hostile territory. This doesn’t need to be a one step forward, two back kind of thing.
“Yeah!” He nods so fast that he looks like a bobble head. “Promise.”
“Okay.” I wrap my arms around him and hold him to my chest. “Hold on tight.”
“For why?” he asks, right as I launch us out of the chair, tearing down the hall.
He squeals in delight as I race into the bedroom, tossing him onto the bed.
“Sure,” Frankie deadpans, glaring at us with her hands on her hips. “Get him worked up before bedtime.”
Maverick and I grin at each other. “You’ll go right to sleep, right, bud?”
He dives beneath the covers, rolling a few times like a puppy trying to get comfortable, until he finds his sweet spot. “Promise.”
Frankie rolls her eyes but smiles. She’s usually so hard and prickly, but when it comes to her son, she’s as soft as can be.
“What should we read?” she asks, crawling into the bed beside him.
He pats the empty mattress on the other side of him, silently asking me to join. But I’m not trying to die tonight. “I’ll take the chair.”
“Fine.” He pouts. “But can you read the bear story again so Mama can hear it?”
“Of course.” I tug my phone out of my pocket, open the Kindle app, and begin reading. Unlike last night, he’s out cold before I even get to the last page.
“You’re really good with him,” Frankie says, brushing his hair out of his face so she can kiss his forehead.
“He’s a good kid.” I shrug, like it’s no big deal. It kind of is, though, because before him, kids honestly creeped me out.
“Stella said you don’t like kids.” She glares at me accusingly.
“Well.” I clench my jaw, lowkey wanting to ream my sister out for telling her that. “Mav’s different.”
“Right.” It’s clear from her tone she doesn’t believe me. But it’s the truth. I’m such a sucker for that kid. “Well…” She cuts her eyes toward the door, silently trying to dismiss me.
That’s not going to fly, though. It’s rare for us to get one-on-one time, and I’m damn sure not willingly giving it up. “Why don’t we hang out? Watch a show or something?”
“Um.” Her eyes flare wide, and I just know she’s going to give me the brush-off.
Nah. Not tonight, little mama.
“C’mon, Frankie. Surely you don’t want to sit in here alone until you’re ready to go to sleep?”
She drags her teeth over her juicy lower lip, and I have to will my dick not to react.
“Please? I’ll be a perfect gentleman…”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FRANKIE
What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman is the very first response that comes to mind. Luckily, my brain switches back online before the words can escape my mouth.
Even still, the mere thought of propositioning Orion has my cheeks heating with shame. Or maybe it’s lust. Either way, the two of us alone feels like a slippery slope.
But he’s totally right—I don’t want to sit here in silence until I’m ready for bed. I could always say I need to study, but really, I want to say yes.
So, I do.
“Okay,” I whisper, and I swear, for a second, it looks like he’s about to do a fist pump. “Let’s go.”
He stands from the chair and moves to my side of the bed, extending a hand my way to help me up.