Teasing: Chapter 8

Going for a walk because I want to stay healthy.

Bringing a bag of Twizzlers because—let’s be real here . . .

—Emmie’s Secret Thoughts

“What now, Emmie?” Rosie asks from the step stool she’s standing on in the kitchen, her brown hair dusted with remnants of the coconut flour we used to make the cherry pie I just slid into the oven and a small smear of gooey red cherries at the corners of her mouth.

I wet a paper towel and wipe her face. “Now, little rose, we get cleaned up while our pie bakes.”

She bites down on her tongue as she scrunches up her nose. “How long does it gotta bake for?”

I lift her from the step stool and place her on the floor, then untie the apron we decorated earlier and slide it over her head. Rosie’s hands go to her hips while she waits patiently for her answer. This kid is too cute. “About an hour.”

She sways from side to side, and I already know that means she’s got something up her sleeve. I’m learning quickly she’s always got something percolating in her little head and more energy than any baby ballerina I’ve ever taught. What’s next is a phrase I’ve heard a ton today. “Can we pick flowers?”

I look at the clock. We’ve got forty minutes before our pie is ready. “Sure. Go grab your shoes and we’ll pick some pretty flowers for your room. How does that sound?”

“Great,” she yells back at me, since she took off the second I said sure.

Thirty minutes and one Band-Aid later, both Rosie and Butters are dealing with thorn-induced boo boos. This dog can’t stay away from the thorns, and she’s not following Rosie. Rosie seems to be following her.

Once the scratch has been cleaned, the girls and I—yes, I’m including Butters in that statement because she’s been one of the girls today. So as I was saying, the girls and I walk out my front door with Rosie on my hip and Butters at my side to head back to Maverick’s house when Camden pulls into our driveway.

He slams the door of the Navigator, taking in the scene. His damp hair clings to his forehead as a curious expression tugs at the lines of his face. “Something you want to tell me, Em?”

Rosie rests her head on my shoulder and clings to me, so I run my hand up and down her back. “Camden, meet Rosie, my buddy for the summer.”

“Rosie.” He nods, still confused, but he smiles anyway as the little girl looks at him shyly. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, little rose.”

Rosie kicks her feet at my waist, a smile slipping into place. “That’s what Emmie calls me,” she whispers, and Camden’s eyes train on me.

“She does, does she?”

Shoot.

I hear the SUV pull up next door, before I see the guys, and cringe. It’s like an accident I can see happening but can’t manage to stop. Camden looks over as the guys walk toward us, and there’s no mistaking Maverick’s mood. It’s the same one he seems to be in every time I see him. Great. Men are so annoying.

“Thought you looked familiar, Monroe.” Maverick’s voice carries across the driveway before he gets close enough to reach for Rosie, who happily lets her father take her from me. “What are you doing here?” he asks as he looks between my brother and me while Jamie and Ryker move to flank him.

“What’s it look like?” Cam asks defensively as he moves closer to me. “I live here.”

Maverick’s dark eyes narrow on me, but I have no idea what storm is brewing behind them, just that there is one. “I thought you said you lived alone.”

“Watch it, man,” Camden warns, and Maverick hands Rosie to Ryker.

“Take her inside,” Maverick tells his brother.

Ryker takes Rosie from him, then mouths sorry to me before he turns for the house.

“What’s your problem, Beneventi?” my own brother asks, as I force my way in front of him.

“Stop,” I warn Camden.

“You’re my problem, Monroe. I don’t know you. And I don’t want to come home and find you talking to my daughter.”

They’re like two dogs peeing in circles, trying to claim their territory.

Well, guess what?

This is my house.

“We talked about this before you left this morning, Maverick.” I glance quickly from him to Jamie, hoping for some help, but the smiling ginger just shakes his head like he just needs some popcorn and soda to enjoy the show.

Maverick moves close enough for me to smell the cool, crisp soap he must have used to shower after practice, and damn him for how good it smells. “Might need to refresh my memory, Emmie. Because the last I knew, you lived alone.”

“You were all at the same practice all day, and you never realized you live next to each other?” I snap back, a little more annoyed than I wanted to let on.

“We were a little busy, Em.” Camden crosses his arms over his chest as he takes a step forward, and I shake my head, trying to clear it from the ridiculous amount of testosterone threatening to smother me.

“Oh my God.” Idiots. They’re all complete idiots. “Maverick, this is my brother, Camden. Your new backup quarterback.” I turn to my brother and push at his chest until he takes a step back, giving me room to breathe. “Camden, I already told you Maverick lives next door.” I wait for him to acknowledge me. “Well, now you’ve met Rosie, his daughter. That’s what I’m doing this summer. Nannying. Maverick doesn’t want the world to know about Rosie if he can help it, so I didn’t want to tell you earlier because I wanted to talk to him first.”

Jamie laughs a dry sound and mumbles something that sounds a whole lot like dumbass. But I’m not sure who it’s directed at.

“Now,” I draw out. “If that’s settled, I have a cherry pie in your oven that Rosie and I made, and I don’t want it to burn.” I put my hand up before Maverick gets a word out. “And before you ask, it’s completely allergy-friendly. I followed every rule. Rosie and I decorated aprons, then went to the farmers’ market and got a ton of fresh ingredients so we could try new recipes this week that would be 100 percent safe for her. We baked a pie and were picking some flowers when she got a boo boo from a thorn. We’d just cleaned it up and gotten a Band-Aid when Camden came home.”

The big grump closes his mouth, and I’m left wondering what he’s thinking, but I don’t dare ask.

“Great talk, guys.” I move around Maverick and head for the house.

Maybe I was better off alone.

Maverick

I turn and watch Emmie walk across my yard and into my house, pretty damn sure I’m as turned-on as I am pissed off, which only annoys me more.

“You make it a habit of talking to my sister like that, Beneventi?”

What the fuck?

“You make it a habit of talking to other people’s kids, Monroe?” He might not have been doing anything wrong, but I don’t take well to strangers talking to my kid. Especially the first day I leave her alone with the new nanny. The fiery new nanny. The one who’s apparently his sister.

What kind of fucking dumbass am I that I didn’t put it together before now?

“When my kid sister is holding your kid, I guess I’m gonna talk to her. Jesus, man. I just introduced myself. Relax,” he grunts and adjusts the strap of his gym bag as he looks from me to Jamie and back.

His kid sister.

Emmie Monroe.

Of course her brother is on my team.

So why the hell am I standing here wondering if she’d have that same fiery attitude bent over my bed that she had standing in front of me, putting me in my place without ever raising her voice?

“You got plans for dinner tonight, Monroe?” Jamie asks him, and I grind my teeth.

Always the fucking cruise director.

We’re gonna have to talk about Jamie’s need to constantly have people over.

That wasn’t part of the deal when he moved in. Not that it surprises me. I was always the quiet one. Jamie was the guy who never shut up.

“Nah. I just got in yesterday. I haven’t had much of a chance to get settled,” Camden admits, and I feel like a dick.

“We’re grilling chicken, if you want to come over,” Jamie offers and lifts his chin my way. “We were gonna invite Emmie. We’ve got plenty of food.”

Camden looks over my shoulder at the house, like he’s thinking about it, then shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ve still got a ton of shit to do.”

“I hear ya. Another night.” Jamie smacks my shoulder. “Come on, man. I’m starving.”

“Yeah . . .” I lift my chin toward Monroe, relieved to have dodged that bullet. I take a few steps before I shove Jamie. “What the hell, man? Do you always have to invite everyone over? Seriously. Knock that shit off. I just want to chill the hell out. Not have a damn party.”

“You’re a real dick when you wanna be, Mav. He’s new to the team, and his sister works for you. It wouldn’t kill you to be nice.” He pushes through the front doors and heads upstairs, and I might as well be standing in the foyer with my dick in my hands for as stupid as I feel. Fuck.

Rosie’s giggle catches my attention and pulls me toward the kitchen, where she and Emmie are wearing matching white aprons decorated with brightly colored painted butterflies as they stand side by side at the counter, looking at a piping-hot pie that’s resting on the stove.

She turns to see me, beaming. “We made a pie, Daddy.”

“You did?” I ask her as I move closer.

“Uh-huh. We made it with coconut flour and cherries and sugar. Lotsa sugar.” She tilts her head, enamored with Emmie.

“Right, sweet girl,” Emmie agrees and lifts the apron over Rosie’s head. “No eggs. No butter. No nuts and no wheat. Totally Rosie safe.”

“Yup. We followed all the rules, Daddy. And we cleaned up too. And tomorrow, Emmie is going to start teaching me ballet.”

My head snaps toward Emmie. I didn’t agree to lessons.

“In the backyard, Cujo. Relax.”

“Cujo?” Rosie asks. “What’s a Cujo?”

Emmie’s teeth run over her bottom lip as she tries to figure out how to answer my daughter, and I enjoy the way she squirms. “Yeah, Emmie . . . What’s a Cujo?”

Her eye twitches. “It’s just a nickname, little rose. Now why don’t you go wash your hands and grab the paintings we did so you can show them to your dad? It’s time for me to go home, but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

My daughter turns to Emmie and throws her arms around her waist. “Promise?”

“Yup. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” She adjusts Rosie’s ponytail and watches as my girl darts away before she fixes her eyes on me and cocks a perfectly arched caramel-colored brow. The golden flecks in her warm eyes shine bright. Oh yeah, this woman is pissed. “That is if I still have a job tomorrow.”

“Why didn’t you tell me he was your brother?” I grit through clenched teeth, appreciative of the subject change and the reason to stop imagining other ways to make her eyes practically glow.

She blinks, clearly shocked. “I started to tell you this morning, but we were interrupted.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” I cross the kitchen and move into her personal space. “Why didn’t you ever mention he lived with you?”

Emmie’s sigh screams of pure frustration. “Because he hasn’t lived in that house in a decade, Maverick.” She takes a step back, stopping when her back hits the cool counter. A pretty flush creeps up her face, and her shoulders tighten like she’s readying for a fight . . . Or for something else. “My life isn’t like yours.”

Her words are whispered and weighted and full of pain.

And they hit harder than I think she even realizes.

I move in front of her . . . too close but not close enough. Wanting to . . . what? Comfort her, when I’m the cause of the pain?

This woman is twenty-one.

She’s five years younger than me.

She’s watching my daughter.

She’s my damn employee . . .

But fuck, she’s beautiful and frustrating and so damn sexy.

I grip the island on either side of her, caging her in with nowhere left to go. Her breathing picks up, and her warm breath dances over my jaw, making it so damn hard to resist her.

Her pulse thrums wildly at the base of her neck, and Christ, I want to feel that under my tongue. I want to taste her skin.

“Then tell me what it’s like, Emmie.” My words are thick and heavy. Heavier than I intended. “Make me understand.”

“No.” Two delicate hands press firmly against my pecs, and I immediately back up, doused by a freezing cold bucket of ice those two letters invoke, yanked back to reality.

“Shit . . . Emmie . . . I’m sorry . . .”

“It’s fine. It’s just not something I feel like talking about.” Her hands drag slowly down my chest before she pulls them away from my body. “Tell Rosie I said goodbye, okay?”

She slides by me and grabs a pink bag from one of the counter stools. “See ya tomorrow, Maverick.”

“Bye, Emmie.” I stand, frozen, as she lets herself out the back door, wondering what the fuck I just did.

“Smooth, Mav. Real smooth,” Jamie mocks as he walks into the kitchen, clearly having seen what just went down, before he pulls a tray of chicken out of the fridge. “Brother, you are out of practice.”

“The fuck I am. I out-benched you, dickhead, and I’d out-squat you too, if we’d done that today.”

“You’re a defensive end, asswipe. I’m a linebacker. You sure as shit had better be able to out-lift me or you’re slacking on the job. But that’s not what I meant, and you know it.” He points to the door Emmie just walked through. “That girl has gotten under your skin, and you know that too. She’s the first one I’ve seen do that since college. Now you gotta decide what you’re going to do about it.”

“She’s not under my skin.” The lie tastes like sawdust in my mouth. There’s something about Emmie . . . I don’t have a clue what it is, and I don’t need to because I’m not acting on it.

Doesn’t mean it’s not there though.

Jamie grins like a little bitch. “Sure, she’s not. Might not want to be so focused on whether she’s lying when you’re the one lying to yourself and to me, brother.”

The ass takes the chicken outside to grill, like he didn’t just call me out, and fuck if I don’t hate that he’s right.