Page 70 of A Convenient Secret

He swings his muscular legs and pushes himself to sit. I place the tray beside him and sit across from him. The two loungers are close enough that, somehow, I end up sitting practically between his legs.

Declan gulps down the entire bottle and picks up the plate. He eyes the contents. “We ran out of the frozen meals?” He lifts a fajita and balances it above the plate before he shoves half of it into his mouth.

He knew about the frozen dishes? Jesus. The man knows everything. Also, why is it sexy to see him eating with his hands? The perfect, always-composed man is wolfing down his food. It’s like watching porn.

“Jesus, this is quite horrible.” Despite his comment, he takes another bite.

“Careful there with all the compliments. First my pajamas, now the results of my kitchen slavery?” I nudge his leg with mine before I twist to stretch on the sun bed.

He laughs, and it startles me. He smirked, chuckled, and almost grinned before, but laughter? What was he drinking tonight?

“I miss talking to you, Seagull.”

Oh, my poor heart. “We kind of talked only once, I think.”

“And it left a lasting impact.” He puts the plate onthe ground and downs the coffee before he mirrors me and lies back, the recliner propped up to admire the view.

Well, wasn’t that my mission tonight? To find a friendly modus operandi. “We can talk. Just because you believe we can’t fuck—”

“Jesus,” he spatters. “Lily, don’t mention fucking because I will lose it again.”

“And we wouldn’t want that,” I say sarcastically.

He whips his head to me, glaring, but there is softness beneath it. “Lily, Lily, Lily, you’re so young, and I’m an old fart with two kids.”

I snort. “You’re not that old.”

He turns back and seems to watch the skyline for a moment. “I certainly feel that way.”

I wholeheartedly disagree, but the sentiment in his voice is heavy with bone-deep fatigue. He feels old because he doesn’t let himself relax for a moment. Always working, always fathering, and nothing in between. My chest constricts with compassion.

“Look, Declan, I’m not going to force you to give in to our mutual attraction, but you don’t have to go to the opposite extreme. We can still talk. You can treat me like a person.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an ass.”

“A rare moment of self-reflection. Do continue.” I pretend to perk-up, teasinghim.

His eyes find mine, and he glares, but it’s not his usual grade of asshole. “Don’t push it. And don’t cook anymore. Call Summit Solutions and get a chef organized, before you burn down the kitchen.”

I sigh. “I really wanted to learn—”

“You’re pretty perfect without cooking.”

That shuts me up.

His praise sprouts goose bumps all over my skin. Perhaps he is right, and we can’t have a middle ground when his compliments make me all wet. Not good.

We sit in companionable silence, with the background of the sounds of the city. He stands up and walks to a small cooler. Pulling out two bottles of water, he gives me one and gulps the other.

Leaving me behind, he walks to the massive stone balustrade that lines the entire terrace. He moves with more confidence, sobered up.

The idea of aiding him with my mediocre meal and coffee… The idea of taking care of him warms me inside, spreading feelings I shouldn’t have. He was definitely right to keep his distance.

Leaning back, he puts his hands in his pockets and crosses his ankles.

Fuck, a casual Declan in the middle of his kingdom is a sight for… Not a sight for his nanny.Keep it professional, you ho.

“How were the kids tonight?”