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The full belly laugh shakes my body.
The conceited level of pretentiousness is too much.
“Duke!” I choke out, dropping my hands to cover my eyes.
The dog barks and I only laugh harder.
“Yeah, alright, buddy. Your new mom is clearly having a mental breakdown right now. Let’s leave her be.”
Duke barks again.
I spread my fingers so I can see King. The expression on his face lands somewhere between annoyed and entertained.
“Any other esteemed pets around? Maybe a cat named Earl.”
King eyes me. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m allergic to cats.”
My smile widens before I can stop myself, hating that I find him funny.
King rounds his lips, blowing a quick sharp whistle, and Duke jumps to all fours, standing at attention in front of hisdad. “When you get yourself under control, come downstairs. I’m hungry.”
I drop my hands. “I’m not cooking for you.”
The man rolls his eyes at me. “I have a cook. And pretty sure I’m smart enough not to eat anything you make me.” He takes a step back, Duke moving with his steps. “The vows only covered slit throats, not poisoning.”
CHAPTER26
King
Forty-five minutes later,Savannah comes down the stairs. And she’s clearly raided my closet again, which, considering that’s where I left her, isn’t a surprise.
This time she’s wearing a pair of thick dark gray sweatpants, with elastic around the bottom, so they’re bunched at her ankles, and not trying to kill her by flopping past her toes. On the top, she’s back to wearing her form-fitting floral tank. And––dammit––her bra.
Though it’s hard to be mad about the bra, because if I can’t admire her nipples poking through her shirt, at least I can appreciate the function of the push-up bra. Because those tits look like fucking heaven right now. And if she’d let me lay my head on that cleavage, I bet I’d sleep like a damn baby.
A memory from last night, of that shirt hanging in the shower to dry, pops into my mind. And my eyes move back down her body, like I can see through her pants, wondering if she’s wearing those lacy red panties. If the panties I wrapped around my dick last night are currently snug against her hot little…
I shift my weight, as my cock wakes up.
Savannah side-eyes me. “You said something about a cook?”
“Y––” I clear my throat and shift again. “Yeah.” She eyes me more. And I nod toward the back of the house. “After you.”
I follow her, keeping my eyes above her waist ––because that plump ass is not helping my half chub situation.
You’re forty-five years old. Get a grip.
The scent of well-made food fills the air, and Savannah is able to follow her nose to the expansive kitchen that overlooks the backyard.
Cici, my cook, turns at our arrival.
Usually she’s gone by this time of day, retired to the staff house, on the far side of the manicured lawns, where she lives there with her sister Ginger, my housekeeper, and Jamie, Ginger’s husband, the gardener and all around handyman.
But instead of leaving me dinner in the fridge and relaxing with her family, she’s been in here preparing an elaborate meal of beef wellington, mashed potatoes with gravy, and my favorite sauteed green beans with garlic and lemon zest. All because some fucking loud-mouthPreacherhad to tell her that I got married today.
Savannah stops at the island, opposite from Cici, and I watch as she takes her in. Cici, and the staff, are all mid to late thirties, and have been working for me going on a decade.
From the surprise on Savannah’s face, I’m guessing she was expecting someone older, maybe a Mrs. Doubtfire situation.