Page 68 of Sterling Heat

However, the vibe coming off Enya when she exits her SUV tells me to hold my tongue from any scolding. For now.

Once I help her carry Adara into the house, Enya commences cabinet slamming and restless pacing.

“What’s wrong?” I demand.

“I’m hungry and I forgot to stop at the store.”

Forgot? I don’t believe it. She’s Miss Efficient but I can see that hanger has set in, so I step over to her cabinets, hunting through them for anything I can toss together.

Pasta. Some milk and cheese in the fridge. It won’t be my best meal, but I can wing it here.

I’m helping myself to a pot and filling it with water when Enya stops aimlessly moving around.

“What are you doing?” Her tone is sharper than she’s ever used toward me.

“I’m making you dinner.” Typically, I’d snap back at a person speaking to me like she did, but I keep calm, acting like she isn’t ready to lop off my head.

I proceed to turn on the stove and set the pot on the burner. Enya takes Adara from her car seat and gets situated on the couch to nurse her. Tension fills the air in the open concept room, and there’s a lot of space to fill. Still, it’s thickening like the cheese and butter I’m melting together in a separate pan while the pasta boils. I check Enya’s cabinets for additional spices and mastermind a combination that will add a little flavor to the cheese mixture.

When Enya’s finished nursing, our dinner is almost ready to be served. She sets Adara in the portable bassinet and stalks directly to a wine bottle next to her refrigerator.

“Ready to tell me what’s going on?” I ask as Enya pours the last dregs of wine into a glass and then slams the bottle onto the counter after finding only a thin layer remains in the container. She picks up the glass and downs the skimpy amount in one gulp.

“I saw my ex today.”

Fuck! “I didn’t know there was an ex.” My forehead creases tight as I scowl at her. This is bad. This is so bad. He’s going to want Enya back. He’s going to want Adara. “You’ve been so tight-lipped about Adara’s father.”

“He’s of no concern to Adara. He’s just my ex.” Enya huffs and twists to rest her backside against the counter. Her fingers curl around the edge of the top, and she stares toward the living room where Adara sleeps. “We were together for eleven years.”

Whoa. Eleven years? That’s longer than I was incarcerated. That’s a . . . commitment.

She cranes her neck to face me standing near the stove, where I’m ready to light myself on fire. Because he can’t have her back.

“Eleven years and not a single proposal of marriage. He didn’t want to get married, he’d eventually told me. Never been his plan to be a husband or a father.”

The admission hits me like a sucker punch in the gut. It’s an echo of all I’ve been saying to her. But I’m not him.

Enya turns her head toward the living room again and squints. “He’s met someone. She has two little girls and he’s getting married.”

Fuck.

Attempting to tamp down the dueling vibration of my fear of losing her and desire to pummel him for hurting her, I gruffly ask, “When did you break up?”

“Three years ago, although we had one of these stupid moments last summer. A night at a party with mutual friends where a few margaritas turned into I-miss-you and a shared bed.” Enya shakes her head, lowering it like she’s ashamed or embarrassed. “I was such an idiot.”

I knew it. I knew Adara had a father. And it’s him. Her ex.

Instantly envious, I want to vomit, right after I throat punch him for getting in Enya’s head and then slipping into her vagina and gifting her Adara. He doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near Enya or the baby.

Because I’m here.

The thought hits me upside the head. I’m here.

I’m a greedy, selfish bastard, who has never been stopped from doing what I want to do. Never shied away from what I wanted, and I don’t know why I’ve been making an exception for Enya and how I really feel about her.

I want her. All of her.

Suddenly lifting her head, she glances at me. “But.” She exhales. “I’m over him. The second time around it was me who said I couldn’t be with him. I couldn’t have a casual fling with someone whom I’d once lived with, once thought I loved. We’d shared an apartment. We’d shared a life. I wasn’t going to be some piece on the side. And I’m so much better without him.”