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A fter she peed, she wrapped a towel around herself and stepped out into the bedroom. Hmm. She’d kind of expected to find Ian in here with her clothes ready for her.

Although . . . yep, he’d laid some out on the bed, including her only skirt. A long, black one with tiers. When she spun, it flowed around her.

She loved it.

Next to it was a tight black top that would show a sliver of skin.

It wasn’t something she’d have chosen herself, but she could be into this outfit. She got dressed and pulled her long, dark hair back into a ponytail. As she walked down the stairs, Uncle Willy stepped into the house.

She heard Ian talking outside to someone. So that’s where he’d gone.

“Uncle Willy, are you all right?” She walked up to kiss his cheek.

“Of course I am, dear. Just a bit tired. I think I’ll go have a rest.”

He seemed to be resting a lot more lately. But that could be due to his concussion.

“I’ll walk upstairs with you.”

“Now, I might be getting older, but I’m not so old that I can’t walk upstairs. And you look like you’re going somewhere.”

“Nope. We’re just eating in.”

“Are you just?” He smiled impishly. “The grumpy one or the dark one?”

“Uncle Willy! Jack isn’t dark.” Although he could be intense.

“Ahh, but the grumpy one is grumpy.”

“Well, yeah, even I can’t argue with that.” She grinned at him.

“Have fun, dear.”

“I’ll bring you up some food soon,” she called out.

He waved a hand as he headed upstairs. She stood and watched him worriedly.

“Everything all right, Little Misfit?”

She jumped with a squeal as Ian spoke from behind her. Turning, she glared up at him. “Well, it was until you scared me half to death.”

Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead. “Wouldn’t want that . . . I’ve got plans for you tonight.” There was hunger in his gaze.

“Yeah?” She could be down for those plans.

“I’m going to take some food up to Uncle Willy later.”

“I’ll do that. Come on, you can watch me cook.” He picked her up and carried her into the kitchen, setting her down on the counter.

“Can I help?” she asked as he started pulling things out of the fridge and cupboards. “I’m really good with a knife.” She picked up a large one.

“No! Put that down!” He took the knife from her hand, then waggled a finger at her.

“No pointing your finger.” She waggled her own finger back at him. “Naughty Daddy.”

He placed his hands on either side of her, leaning into her. “I like you calling me that.”

She liked it too.

A lot.

He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “But you’re not to touch the knives, understand me?”

She sighed. “Fine. I won’t touch the sharp knives. How about the stove?”

He just shot her a look.

Okay, no stove.

Sheesh. Talk about bossy. His sweetness level was definitely dropping. Thirty-five percent.

“What’s going on in here?” Jack asked, walking in and picking up a piece of cheese that Ian had just sliced off.

Ian slapped his hand. “Hands off.”

“What? Why?”

“Because this is for Maggie.” He plated up some cheese and crackers and set them down beside her. “For her to eat while I cook dinner.”

“She can’t eat all of that,” Jack complained. “She’ll ruin her appetite.”

“She hasn’t been eating enough lately. She’s losing weight.”

She was? Maggie looked down at herself. Her skirt was a little loose, but she’d just figured it had been stretched or something.

“You won’t eat them all, will you, Maggie?” Jack gave her a pleading look. “Take pity on a starving man. I’ve done a lot of extra exercise today.”

Dear Lord.

“Get your own, you lazy git,” Ian said, his accent growing thicker.

She had to giggle at Jack’s pleading look. She picked up a cracker with cheese and held it out to him, ignoring Ian’s grumbling.

Instead of taking it with his hand, he bent down and took it straight into his mouth.

“I like the skirt and top, baby,” he said, running his finger over the uncovered sliver of skin. Then he pressed his mouth to hers. Hot. Hard. Delicious.

“Thanks,” she murmured when he drew back. “Ian chose it. My uncle is back, though. We shouldn’t . . .”

“Isn’t he resting?” Ian asked.

“Yes, but it still doesn’t feel right.”

“Okay, baby,” Jack said easily. “But just tell me . . . did Ian pick out underwear for you?”

“I did not.”

“You did that on purpose?” she asked. “I thought you just forgot them.”

“I did not.” Ian raised his eyebrows. “Did you put underwear on?”

“Yes, of course!”

Ian held out his hand. She stared down at it in confusion before slapping her hand on his.

He shook his head as Jack laughed.

“He wants your knickers, baby,” Jack told her.

“I can’t walk around with no knickers on,” she said, scandalized.

“Sure you can,” Ian told her. “Because if you don’t, you don’t get a treat.”

“Is my treat orgasms?”

He smiled. “Yep.”

“What about ice cream? Can I have ice cream?”

Jack let out a hoot of laughter. “Are Ian’s orgasms not good enough, baby? Does he need to work on his technique?”

“I do not need to work on my technique.” Ian crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

“I was hoping I might get ice cream and orgasms.”

Ian narrowed his gaze at her.

“Your orgasms are just fine.” She patted his hand.

“Just. Fine?” His face started turning red.

“You’ve done it now, baby girl,” Jack told her with a wink.

Uh-oh.

“You certainly have.”