Big dick energy? Double-check.
And—holy shit!—before I’ve even heard his voice, my panties are already disintegrating.
But what is he doing here? When did he get out? He still has years left on his prison sentence. At least that’s what my research into his case turned up.
Did I misread the court documents?
Or did a judge overturn the verdict?
Did he knock out a prison guard, dig a tunnel under the jailhouse and make a run for it?! I had a dream about that once. It was sexy as hell.
Wait—am I even awake?!
I curl my fingers into my palm. I need the bite of my fingernails to confirm that this is not just another dream.
Because Eli Kingston is clearly not behind bars. He’s here in the family kitchen of the Kingston guesthouse. Kneeling not six feet away. Glaring at me like I’ve got my finger on the execution button, about to flip the switch on his electric chair.
Tension in the air is thick. I’m not sure what Callie and I just interrupted, but I’m starting to doubt we should be in here.
I titter nervously. “Oh, sorry,” I address the room. “Our hide-and-seek went sideways, and I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”
“Jessa…I’m hungry,” Callie whimpers in her soft, tiny voice as she skitters out of her father’s grasp and comes to latch herself onto my leg.
I’m hungry, too. I throw a longing glance at the coffee pot. I’d do something pretty indecent for a cup of coffee right about now. But I take the little girl’s hand, ready to back up out of the room because I’m woefully unprepared to participate in whatever is going on in here. “Sweetie, we can wait. Until the grownups finish their conversation.”
But Diana Kingston comes and puts a palm on my shoulder. “No, dear, it’s good that you and Callie are here.” With her signature sugar cookie smile, she’s ushering me even closer to the danger zone.
Now, my heart really gets going. Jesus—my mind is racing.
Dithering words spill out of me as I take klutzy steps alongside Diana. “We’re not in a hurry,” I insist. “We can wait. And a late breakfast is better, anyway. Have you heard of intermittent fasting? It’s great for your digestion. And digestion is so important. We shouldn’t underestimate…” My words trail off, because everyone is staring at me with grave expressions on their faces.
That’s when Eli rises to his full height, and whoa!, the man is a freaking tower. Tall and broad and solid.
I’ve spent months studying his picture. But he’s even more handsome in the flesh, in spite of the hardness he exudes. Or maybe, it’s because of it. And don’t even get me started on those prison tats. I’ve always been a ‘neat, no-stubble, combed-over, buttoned-up white knight’ kind of girl. And Eli Kingston is clearly no white knight.
But lordy lord, is he mouthwatering.
My cheeks burn with the memory of what I did last night in the privacy of my bedroom, thinking about the very man. I can feel a blush blossoming on my cheeks.
Lucas Kingston turns to Eli. He aims a cautious look at his son. “This is Jessa. She's been helping us take care of Callie.”
Eli glares some more. But I refuse to let my overzealous smile wobble. In fact, under the scorching spotlight of his stare, I grin wide like an alligator. I’m pretty sure I’m showing off wisdom teeth here.
Then Mr. Kingston turns a kind—albeit, exhausted—smile my way. “And Jessa, this is—”
“Eli,” I interrupt. Crapsters. I wince, silently cursing my blabbermouth for getting carried away. As always. “I mean, Mr. Kingston. Well...y'know...um, Callie's dad. I just...I've seen pictures of him—you—around the house and—”
“You guys have a stranger taking care of my kid?!” Eli’s eyes flash with anger. He looks right past me, his laser-red gaze focuses on his parents before snapping over to his brothers.
“Remember? We talked about this—Jessa is Lexi's sister,” Mrs. Kingston explains. “She's no stranger in this home.”
Eli raises a single brow, looking impatient and unimpressed. “Lexi?”
Cannon makes a feral, growly sound. “Lexi is my wife,” he snaps, seemingly losing his patience.
Eli growls right back. “Sorry, brother. I haven’t been able to keep up-to-date with the goings-on in your life. Seeing as I was busy being incarcerated and all.”
A tug on my sweater alerts me to Callie, who’s still gripping my leg, using me as her personal shield and desperately trying to hide behind me. It breaks my heart. But I know she has nothing to be afraid of. Her daddy might look and sound scary, but judging by the cards—to his daughter—and the letters—to me—I know underneath is a gentle, wounded man.
I throw the child a little wink to assure her that everything will be okay. A bit of my own tension fades when she tentatively grins back at me.
“Jessa is practically family,” Jude supplies, trying to reason with his brother.
Mrs. Kingston wears a soft, pleading smile. “And she's been doing such a wonderful job with Callie—”
“Well, that's just great, but I'm home now,” Eli interrupts, his voice dryer than the neglected toast and waffles sitting on the dining table. “We won't be needing a damn nanny anymore.”
Callie squeezes my leg a little tighter.
“Language, Eli,” Mr. Kingston loudly scolds his son.
The men continue their argument, voices raised, tempers flaring. Mrs. Kingston does her best to mediate the situation. Callie’s anxious grip on me tightens whenever her name gets volleyed back into the heated conversation.
I peer down at her. She’s enthralled with the action before us, her eyes flicking between her father and her grandparents. I know I’ll have to answer a question or two about this conversation later. Reaching back to my second-year psychology course, I mentally prepare how I’ll navigate that.
This whole deal is totally inappropriate to carry out in front of a socially-developing five-year-old. I momentarily consider taking her out of the room until the adults settle their beef but I’m not convinced the protective father would just let me saunter out of here with his kid.
“Callie's been thriving with
