“You’re not sick, are you, Pammie?”
She shook her head and patted Winnie’s head absently as she admired the gift the “tooth fairy” had brought her daughter.
“Healthy as a horse, unless you consider morning sickness an illness,” she muttered for my ears only.
I stared at her pale face and threw back my head and laughed, relief coalescing with excitement.
“Are you fu—freaking kidding me?” I demanded, pulling her in for another squeeze. “Was this the plan or what?”
Her semi-hysterical laugh told me more than words could, but as I looked harder, I could see the shine in her eyes.
“We’re excited. It’s just a shock, is all. We have a lot to work out as far as trying to juggle everything. I know in the long run, it will be great, but I’m a little terrified right now,” she admitted, taking my arm and drawing me into the kitchen. The room was warm and cozy like the rest of the house, and smelled like roasting meat and sweet rolls.
“Tim, Finn! Uncle Smith is here. Come down and let’s eat!” she called up the back stairs.
Whoops and hollers rang out as my other nephew pattered down the stairs in a rush to launch his little body at me with glee.
This was good. Exactly what the doctor ordered. In fact, I didn’t think about Evie for a whole forty-five minutes as the adults shared a bottle of wine and the kids slipped their peas under the table for Salvador Doggy, their constantly hungry dachshund.
By the time dessert came, I was feeling confident and in charge. Yeah, so Evie and I had rolled around a bit. Big deal. It was just the unusual circumstance of wanting and not being able to have that had me all hung up. So long as I kept myself busy, I’d be fine.
But when a luscious strawberry shortcake hit the table, piled high with mounds of decadent whipped cream, my mind went instant caveman.
Evie, stretched out on this very table, buck naked, whipped cream on both tits and at the juncture of her thighs, her lips parted and her eyes gleaming as she waits for me to come and get it.
Jesus, was I fucked. I squeezed my eyes closed in defeat.
Operation: Whack-A-Thon had failed.
Operation: Keep Myself Busy so I Can Keep My Mind off Her had failed.
That left only one option . . .
Operation: Get Evie Naked Again and Fuck Her Brains out so We Can Both Move On was now in full effect.
My cock bucked in agreement, and as I dug my fork into my shortcake, I began to plot my first move.
Chapter Nine
Back at work on Monday, I was feeling positive. I’d set up my dating profile and already had an in-box full of potential new suitors. Not that I was interested in any of them. But just having them there—just knowing that option was on the table—gave me a little boost to my step.
“Hey, sis.”
“Hi, guys.” I slid into my seat between them, opened my laptop, and kept my eyes on the screen as it loaded, knowing if I looked at Smith, my positive mood would die a quick death.
“Morning, Everleigh.” Smith’s rich voice rolled over every syllable in my name and washed over me like a wave.
Tempted, I sneaked a look at the man next to me. Dressed in a white dress shirt and a navy tie, he looked deliciously preppy, like he could grace the cover of a men’s clothing catalog. The dark stubble dusting his square jaw only added to the appeal. His gaze moved over me, a question in his expression that I couldn’t quite read.
Are you okay? it seemed to say.
No, that wasn’t it.
Are we okay?
Meeting his eyes with their flecks of gold and green and amber, I gave him a quick nod. Even if things were weird as hell right now, this was still Smith. Of course we’d be okay. We had to be.
My brother spoke, interrupting the intense eye contact Smith and I were sharing. “I have a call with the manufacturer this morning. Depending on what they say about their capacity, it could change some of the fourth-quarter plans we’ve made. I’ll keep you both posted.”
“Sounds good, buddy,” Smith said.
I opened my e-mail and saw a response from the consultant I’d been in touch with about helping increase our social engagement. I was typing out a response when Cullen answered his cell and rose to his feet. He wondered toward the wall of windows, pacing as he spoke.
Smith turned to face me. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Of course.”
“About . . . things.”
My gaze wondered over toward my brother. He was absorbed in his conversation, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t overhear what was sure to be a rather personal conversation.
“Not here,” I whispered.
“Have lunch with me today.”
My gaze left his and wandered back to my screen. I wasn’t so sure that was a good idea, and Smith seemed to read my mind.
“You owe me at least a conversation, don’t you think?”