Page 46 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“Exponents aren’t that hard,” Vanessa’s voice is breezy.

I let out a low groan. “Math was never my strong suit. The basics are fine, but I stay away from anything else.”

“Baking math is the only type of math I like,” Lara’s voice is reluctantly conciliatory.

“I’m not a baker, I’ll leave that to you,” I tease Lara.

“Can you cook?” There’s a challenge in her voice. “I mean, if you can’t bake, specifically, what about cooking?”

“I can get by,” I tell her. “There are a few things I do well, at least to my tastes, but I’m not going to be picking up a shift in the On Wasted Ridge kitchen anytime soon.”

Lara chuckles under her breath. “Working a kitchen line and cooking in your home aren’t exactly the same thing,” she pushes back slightly.

“Fair enough.” I surrender.

Maybe it’s because we’re in her home, but Lara adds to the conversation more tonight than she did at Dolly’s. I like it and I try not to make it obvious just how much. But I feel downright fucking giddy over it.

As we’re finishing up, Lara reaches out to collect the containers, but I beat her to it. When she parts her lips to argue, I just shake my head.

“I think I can clean this up,” I tease her.

“Hopefully without leaving crumbs behind,” she deadpans.

“I’ll do my best.” I chuckle and shoot her a cocky as fuck grin.

“I’m going to my room,” Vanessa’s voice is a singsong as she stands up from the table.

Before I know what’s happening, her arms wrap around my neck, and I freeze while reaching for her trash. My eyes are wide as I look at Lara who has a complicated expression on her face.

“Thanks for dinner,” Vanessa says right in my ear.

Lara bites her lip to stop herself from laughing and it’s too damn sexy. Her blue eyes sparkle with the laughter she’s keeping inside.

Vanessa lets go and is off. I call out after her, “Anytime.”

I stand up and throw everything away before grabbing the empty glasses and putting them in the dishwasher. Lara watches every movement like she’s going to be grading me on my performance later.

While my grades in school weren’t always top-notch, you better fucking believe I’d be valedictorian of whatever school Lara’s in charge of. Where are my cap and gown?

Without letting her kick me out, I walk into the living room and stand in front of a cluster of pictures. Every one of them has Lara and Vanessa in it.

One of them features a grinning Lara holding Vanessa wearing a shirt declaring it her first birthday. Both of them are covered in cake and frosting. Lara looks exhausted, but that’s not what has my breath hitching. It’s how raw the moment is, especially knowing the truth.

“I chose carrot cake that year because carrot was one of her favorite baby foods.” Her voice drops slightly and fills with warmth, “She always became a mess of orange goo, but she loved it.”

“How much of it did she actually eat?” I glance at her before looking back at the picture, my question filled with amusement.

It feels like a moment I missed. Shockingly, I don’t want to miss any more of them.

“Not much, but enough that I haven’t made her another carrot cake since,” she quips.

“We don’t really do the birthday thing, unless the Old Ladies put something together or for a kid,” I tell her.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m sharing. Maybe I just don’t want her to stop talking to me quite yet.

“Well, if you ever need a cake,” she teases, “I know where you can get one.” Before I can even laugh, she presses a hand to her forehead and mutters, “Dumbest thing I’ve ever said.”

“I’d be damn lucky to celebrate my birthday with one of your cakes.”