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I shake my head once to banish the image of her cooking for me in nothing but an apron. “Oh yeah? So if I buy the stuff, you’re going to keep me well-fed, huh?”
There’s a flush high on her cheeks like she isn’t sure if there’s something more sexual behind my words. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I mean for it to sound dirty, but I’m definitely thinking about all the other things she could serve me to eat that I’m hungry for. Namely, what’s between her legs…
“I can try,” Delia breathes, biting her bottom lip. “Do you have a big appetite, Mr. Dixon?”
I open my mouth to answer her the words, I can show you just how big my appetite is, when my son huffs, and I’m snapped out of the haze that this girl has put me in.
Brody rolls his eyes. "Come on, Delia, enough chit-chat. Let's go inside. Pops, did you make up the spare room for us?”
My gaze shoots daggers at him for interrupting me, and I see a brief flash of fear in his eyes. I should be ashamed of how easily he scares, but right now, it’s working to my advantage, so I don’t feel too bad that my own son is a little bitch.
"The spare room is ready," I bite out. “But the bed is only a full size, as you know.”
"Cool." He looks down at Delia, who looks suddenly unhappy. “We don’t mind being close. Do we, Dels?”
She wrinkles her nose. “I already told you I’m not comfortable–”
Brody scoffs. “Come on. Look at this place, Delia. Do you really think Dad has more room? Look at this cracker box.”
Anger flares. “You’re more than welcome to get a hotel, you little shit. But I was under the impression you couldn’t afford it.”
Brody’s face goes red, but he doesn’t say anything. I look back at Delia, softening my tone with some effort. “You can take the guest room if you want, Delia. Brody can sleep on the couch.”
She looks relieved. “Oh, that’s okay. I can sleep on the couch, and he can take the guest room.”
“My son is more of a gentleman than that,” I tell her, and I can see Brody clenching his jaw out of the corner of my eye. I’ve backed him into a corner, and I know he doesn’t like it. I don’t give a fuck.
“Of course,” he says between his teeth. “Let’s go in.”
Laughing to myself, I let Brody lead Delia around me and toward the house, hooking my thumbs into my pockets and following them. Watching Delia’s hips sway and the round globes of her ass is a nice distraction, but I’ve got some thinking to do. Brody might be my son, but his hand on her shoulder is unacceptable. Once I make a decision, I don’t back down, and I’ve decided that Delia is going to belong to me.
It’s going to be one hell of an interesting holiday.
2
DELIA
Idon’t want to go into the house. Like, at all.
Because I know that inside this house is going to be more of Dean Dixon. His scent, the things he touches every day, his bed….oh, no. I don’t want to go inside at all.
Actually, that’s a lie. I want to go inside too much. I know I shouldn’t, but I really, really do.
How in the hell did I manage to go from planning on breaking up with Brody to feeling weak in the knees at seeing his father? Talk about a silver fox. Or a wolf might be more accurate. Dean Dixon looks like a predator that might eat me alive, and I just know I’d enjoy every minute of it.
Meanwhile, his frustrating-as-hell son keeps trying to touch my arm and my lower back as if we didn’t fight most of the drive over. If I hadn’t already promised that I’d spend the weekend with him, then I would have definitely bailed, but Brody had basically begged.
The thing is, I told him before we left Providence that I didn’t think this relationship was working out, but he insisted that we hold it together for the holiday just so he didn’t have to spend the entire time stuck in the house with his dad who he just didn’t see eye to eye with.
I wanted to say no, but Brody had pulled my ass out of the fire last month when my bakery’s oven had stopped working and there was no one to come out and look at it on a Sunday night. I was the only one scheduled, and my boss wasn’t answering. I knew if he came in the next day and there were no pastries to sell, I’d be so fired. He greased the palms of some repairman who reluctantly came out to fix the oven, which was great.
Brody whining that I wouldn’t sleep with him afterward, though, was not so great. I had promised him a favor at any time as long as it didn’t have to do with my body or his, and this Thanksgiving trip is what he chose—even knowing that we’re basically broken up.
That’s why the touchy-feely nonsense is bothering me as much as it is. But even that takes a backseat to how Dean is making me feel. Because…wow. Just wow.
I stepped out of Brody’s car, sore and desperate to pee since the asshole refused to stop the whole way here, and stretched while I enjoyed finally getting out of the vehicle. Then I opened my eyes and looked forward, and found myself looking at the Rhode Island equivalent of Thor.
My heart had started beating so fast that it was almost scary, my mouth going dry…nipples going hard…hell, even my pussy started to tingle when his eyes met mine. It’s like every part of me that had been sleeping was suddenly awake, and lust roared through me like a storm.
