Page 82 of Switching Skates

“Wow, don’t look so happy to see me, Mase,” Maeve groans, taking the lidded pans from my hands. “What’d you bring us?”

I rip them back out of her hands. “Not for you, you gremlin. For Daphne, and if she feels inclined to share, then so be it.”

Her face twists with disgust. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? Just dirt beneath your shoe now.”

I chuckle, scanning the room for Daphne, seeing the back of her red hair on the sofa. Walking past Maeve, I stroll to the kitchen and set the two pans down on the counter.

Turning to Daphne, I find her already halfway to me with a shy smile on her face—where I forcefully keep my eyes glued so as to not let them wander down her body. But, fuck, even in my peripheral vision, she makes my dick twitch in my pants.

Tell me why she looks so goddamn good in little pajama shorts and a tank top. It’s like my weakness, although I think it has little to do with the clothing choice and all to do with her.

“What’d you bring?” She pads over and rests her hands against the countertop next to me.

“Only your favorites.” I wink, and her cheeks warm. “You said you hadn’t eaten yet so I made a quick chicken bacon Alfredo.” I unseal the lip, and I swear I can see her mouth watering as she takes it in. “And for dessert, I made scotcheroos.”

Her eyes widen like a kid on Christmas. “No, you didn’t. Oh my God, I haven’t had them in years either. No one ever makes them gluten-free.”

Patting the top of the pan, I proudly grin. “I did. Just for you.”

Her gaze melts, and she lifts her hand, placing it on top of mine. In that split second, the heat in her eyes transforms into something else entirely. Something indecent, scorching, and palpable.

“Thank you,” she whispers and bites down on her bottom lip, pressing her tits forward.

“You’re welcome.” Feeling confident and a little bold from her reaction, I lean down and place a soft kiss on her forehead. “Want me to dish you a bowl up? It’s still nice and hot.”

“Yes, please.” She beams with excitement. “Maeve! Do you want some Alfredo?”

Maeve shoots daggers at me through her stare as she trots over to us in the kitchen. “Is that okay with you, Sir Mason? To share with the peasant?”

“You’re so fucking dramatic. Just eat the damn pasta.”

Her pursed lips shift into a cocky smile. “I will.”

Jackson strolls into the room next, and I’m glad that I’m a planner, making sure there was enough for everybody if needed. “That smells amazing.”

“There’s enough to go around.” I reach up and open the cupboard, grabbing three bowls and setting them down next to the pan.

I fill each with a couple of scoops of the penne Alfredo, giving Maeve significantly less just to be a dick.

“Asshole,” she mutters when I hand it to her, taking the scoop from me and filling hers up more.

“Are you getting some?” Daphne asks me, and I shake my head.

“I ate some before I came. I didn’t want to take any from your portion. That’s for you to enjoy.”

She fights her smile as she walks into the living room, and I follow her in, carrying two waters for us.

I sit on one end of the sofa, Daphne next to me, Maeve on the other end, and Jackson in the recliner. Daphne sets a throw pillow in her lap to prop the bowl of pasta on, and Maeve starts the movie.

I knew before even coming here that it was going to be a movie off of their list. It’s not a coincidence that it’s a movie date and Friday night, when they usually watch one.

“Is it good?” I murmur into her ear.

Her head whips my way, her eyes unshielded. “It’s delicious, Mason. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” I stretch my arm out behind her, resting it on the couch. “What’s the movie selection tonight?”

She leans over closer to me as she says, “Letters to Juliet.”