If I thought for a second that Victoria or Butch might be sitting in front of that television, I wouldn't have dared to join them, but they are mostly out of town, at hotels or one of the other houses on their vast real estate portfolio. Despite that being unusual, I never thought too much about it. But right now, I do. I mean, it makes sense that she -Victoria- that vapid woman, would purposely keep Butch from his sons. She must get swallowed up by their presence.
When I see the relaxed, large, and gorgeous form of Bronson Butcher laying on the couch, watchingThe Bachelor, I laugh to myself. "I can't believe what I'm seeing."
"I know, it's so romantic." He feigns a coo, not moving a muscle.
Rounding the couch and sitting on the single recliner, I'm all of a sudden desperate to tell him he's going to be an uncle. Of course, I can't. Not until I tell Max that he's going to be a dad. Although Bronson is an enigma - both charming and easy going, and dark and unpredictable - he's also the one person I'm positive will be nothing but excited about this baby. It's the reaction I want.
Need.
He looks so much like Max and strangely, so very different. While Max is closed off, Bronson seems welcoming and daring. Max has black, white, and red tattoos. Bronson has vibrant designs covering almost every inch of his skin. I stare at his tattooed forearm where a purple clock and owl is etched into the surface.
Still unmoving, his hands tucked under his thick, strong biceps and his boots crossed up on the cushion, he says, "Did you know that Max named Xander?"
I pull my legs up, crossing them in front of me. "No."
He doesn't divert his eyes from the television. "Yeah. Mum couldn't be bothered. Personally, I wanted to name him Ned, after Ned Kelly. But Max wanted it to be Xander. His name has a loose translation - 'defender of men'. Max liked that idea at the age of five. We practically raised that kid together. Like emperor penguins, ya know? The guys all get together and look after their young."
Are we talking about babies? Can he read minds? My palms get moist, so I rub them on my legs. Bronson Butcher never ceases to amaze me to the point of near speechlessness. "Emperor penguins?" is all I manage to say.
"Yep." His bright, opal-blue eyes shift to me and he grins, his lips a tick of mischief. "They're really good fathers."
Oh my gawd.How does he know? I need an aluminium foil hat to stop him from infiltrating my thoughts. Or does that only work with aliens? Maybe some garlic? Or silver?
Focus, Cassidy.
My lungs begin to strain. "Does Max know?" I breathe hard.
When his eyes drop to my belly, his whole face smiles. "Know what? About emperor penguins? No. But I make it my business to know everything about them."
A laugh of relief bursts from me, but I have no idea why. Shaking my head, feeling tongue tied, I take in his beautiful, comforting presence. I don’t know how he knows. . .Ugh. Yes, I do.Carter.I frown at Bronson. "Carter told you?"
Grinning, he states, "He had to report it to one of us." I want to be mad, but I'm not. Because Bronson's smile fills my heart with the courage it needs to tell Max.
"Is Max in his room?"
"He's exhausted. Go easy on him."
Beaming from cheek to cheek, I stand to leave but stop abruptly. Peering back at Bronson still casually slung over the couch, I say, "One day, you're going to tell me why you're single."
He chuckles. "Emperor pigeons."
I laugh again. I have no idea what that means.
Taking the staircase, which I now know is made of Jarrah wood, I navigate my way up to the third floor and through the carpeted hallway to Max's room.
The best part about sneaking into his room at near midnight is being able to watch him sleep for a few moments. It's been a fascination of mine since the first time we slept in the same bed. When he's awake, there is no mistaking who is in charge.
But when he's asleep, he's almost - exposed.
The window is open, but there is no moon tonight, so it’s just a black square dotted in what looks like fireflies spread across the horizon. The only light floods in around his bathroom door, but it's enough for me to see him.
I make my way over to his big bed, noticing that he's sleeping on my side with his head resting on my pillow. I smile harder. I breathe in Max Butcher, dark-brown hair, tanned skin, and the tattoos I like to trace with my fingertip.My Max.
I slide my shoes off quietly, pull my dress over my head, and crawl onto the mattress in my underwear. My nails lightly graze his thigh as I move in close to him.
Suddenly, he jolts up, seizes my throat, and throws me under him. Pressing his heavy body to mine, he pushes the air from my chest, leaving me gasping for it. As fear and arousal swirl through me, my pulse beats hard against his hot, tight grip.
It's me!