Enticing: Chapter 16

Of course everything fell apart. The cost of your new life is the death of your old one.

Now make it everything you ever dreamed of.

—Addie’s Secret Thoughts

“You did not tell me you’re friends with Lilah Ryan,” I whisper-hiss at Caitlin as I ladle gravy onto a kind older man’s plate and watch Izzy help a woman with a walker carry her dinner to a table. “I mean, I knew you knew her . . . But it’s Lilah Ryan. She’s the biggest pop-star in the world.”

“Hey, Addie . . . I’m friends with Lilah Ryan. There you go. Did that change anything? No . . . shocking. Now your turn.” She glares, and I cringe. “You didn’t tell me you were dating Leo Sinclair. And oh, by the way, Lilah and Leo are cousins. Did he tell you that?”

Should have seen that coming.

“Sorry,” I tell her, shame washing over me for the lie I’m about to tack on. “It happened fast, and I didn’t want to bother you with it on top of everything you’ve been going through.”

“I get it.” Her eyes drift over a sleeping Lennox, who’s strapped to my chest, no doubt thinking about her own pregnancy and her complicated relationship with Callen, and my heart pangs for her. “Leo’s a good guy. He’s not Gavin. I hope you give him a chance.”

She might as well have screamed, Shots fired. Duck for cover.

Hearing Gavin and Leo’s names together is a painful reminder of just how bad relationships can go. I try to remind myself Leo isn’t Gavin, and if this plan is going to work, I’ve got a part to play.

“Leo doesn’t exactly give you much of a choice. He kind of refused to let me ignore him.” I laugh. “I guess he wore me down.”

Not a complete lie.

Lilah leans around Caitlin from the other side. “Oh my God. You’re the woman from the Kroydon Kronicles?” Her words are shouted whispers, and I want to die. Dressed in blue jeans and a pink sweater with a red and white candy-cane heart on the front of it, Lilah looks like she could be the girl next door. Her golden-blonde hair is up in a perfect ponytail that could rival Barbie’s. It’s tucked under a red ball cap, shielding her face, and her flawless pink pout is the only makeup on her blemish-free skin.

Women like her don’t exist in real life, and if they do, they’re usually nasty little bitches. But not this one. She’s been smiling and chatting with everyone, especially Izzy, who knows exactly who she is and was given orders to keep that to herself and not share it with everyone here. Lilah swore her to silence when she and her twin brother, Noah, introduced themselves earlier. Because as good as this could be for her image, that’s not why she’s here, and that, I respect.

“Wait, Leo’s girl?” Noah asks as he comes out to replace the tray of mashed potatoes in front of Coraline. He looks at Lennox and me, doing a lousy job of hiding his shock. “Well damn, I guess he finally got serious about something.”

Coraline points her serving spoon at the hot, blond bassist, wielding it like a weapon. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Calm down, blondie,” he pushes the tip of the spoon down with the edge of a tray of potatoes. “I just meant he’s Leo. You want the easiest-going Sinclair, you go to Leo. He’s the guy who lets everything slide. He’s the hardest to piss off and the easiest to call for a good time. You want to hit up the bar, you call Leo. You want someone to give you advice, you go to Nixon.”

“What about Henny?” Lilah smiles.

“You want help burying the body, you go to Hendrix,” Lilah answers her own question with a big smile, and I wonder what it’s like to have such a big family.

Caitlin shrugs. “I mean, I’d call Maddox or me for that.”

“Truth,” Lilah giggles.

“And how are you related?” I ask the twins, knowing I probably don’t want to know. This entire town should be on a giant murder board with crisscrossing red strings connecting all the residents.

“Our mom is Leo’s dad’s little sister,” Lilah tells me before she lowers her hat, and Noah immediately hands her the empty tray and takes her spot.

“How about you head into the back for a while, Tink?”

He’s asking and telling her at the same time, clearly protective.

I see the way she’s torn. She obviously wants to stay out here, but glancing around, it’s obvious people are taking more notice of Lilah. “Hey, Izz,” I call her back over here. “Could you go in the back with Lilah for a bit? She could use some help.”

Her little eyes light up with glee, and Noah offers a silent thanks.

“Not a problem, but your sister might not be too thankful once Izzy starts talking. My daughter is a lot of things, but quiet isn’t one of them,” I warn.

“My cousin’s a lucky guy,” Noah throws out nonchalantly as he serves the next person, then looks between Caitlin, Coraline, and me. “My uncle is too.”

“Don’t look at me, buddy,” Cori snaps, and my heart cracks open. “Just because these two are in love with Sinclairs, doesn’t mean I want one for myself.”

The way the lie just rolled off her tongue kills me.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to say those words without meaning them, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be capable of meaning them again.

Izz and I have just read the last page of our book when the doorbell rings. Her sleepy eyes look up at me, pleading. She’s been waiting to see Leo all day. I close the book and set it on her nightstand. “Just for a few minutes, okay?”

“You’re the best, Mommy,” she squeals and scrambles out of bed. I’m Mommy when she’s playing me. Something this kid does with ease already. I’m so screwed.

“Five minutes,” I shout after her as my phone vibrates in my pocket.

“I’ve got her,” Cori yells back up the stairs, and I yank my phone from my pocket. A private number flashes on the screen. What the hell?

“Hello?” No response. “Hello . . .”

I end the call, thinking it’s probably another debt collector, and follow the sound of Izzy’s laughter downstairs.

Leo’s standing at the foot of the stairs—well, squatting is more accurate. He’s brought himself down to Izzy’s level while he watches her rip into a pretty red and white package. Ribbon is flying everywhere as my girl rips the perfect wrapping to shreds until she gets the lid off. Her wild movement stops, and her little jaw hangs open.

“What is it, Izz?” I ask, and Leo finally looks at me, and my goodness, the look in his eyes does me in. This man who constantly exudes so much confidence is nervous giving his gift to my daughter. Wow . . . I can’t put into words what that does to my heart.

She pulls out a beautiful, old, hardback copy of Charlotte’s Web. Izzy runs her fingers along the gilded edges and gold-foiled font, tracing the raised lettering.

“It’s so pretty,” she gasps and opens the cover, then looks at me. “There’s something written here.”

I bend down and look over her shoulder, then suck in a small breath. “There is, baby. That’s E.B. White’s signature. He wrote the book.”

He also died nearly fifty years ago.

This man . . . the one now standing in front of me. He’s good. He could have bought her a doll or a hockey stick. It would have been a hell of a lot easier than tracking down a signed edition of a book that was first printed seventy-five years ago. But I think I’m starting to understand easy isn’t really his style.

Leo may want everyone to think he’s easy.

Simple.

But there’s so much more to him than that. And I think I’ve only just scratched the surface.

Leo

“Night, short stack.” I hug Izzy, then watch her walk up the steps, clutching her book to her chest and something an awful lot like pride beats in my own chest.

“Damn, Sinclair,” Adelaide whispers. “You’re good.”

I wait until Izzy is out of sight and pull a piece of mistletoe out of my pocket. “A regular Boy Scout,” I tease.

Addie eyes the mistletoe but doesn’t move as I raise it above her head and wrap a hand around her back. “Merry Christmas, Addie.”

She stiffens momentarily, then softens and tucks her hands inside my jacket. “Merry Christmas, Leo.”

I brush my lips over hers, slowly and gently, giving her time to pull away if she needs to.

But my girl surprises me when she presses her body against mine, each soft curve molding to my muscled form. I lick into her mouth, and Addie moans as my blood roars in my veins.

“Fuck, wife . . .” I breathe out and press my forehead against hers. “You’re not making this easy.”

Her laugh is sultry as she wraps a hand around my neck and digs it into my hair.

“Nothing about my life will ever be easy, Leo.” She runs her teeth over her lip and shakes her head the slightest bit. “And I’m not your wife.”

“Not yet.” I step back and pick up the bags I left by the front door earlier. “You hungry? I brought food.”

“Does this mean you guys are done making out? Because I’m starving.” Coraline sticks her head out of the kitchen and stares at us, waiting.

“Guess I should have mentioned there’d be three of us for our Christmas movie date.” Addie flushes, and I swear to all that’s fucking holy, I can’t wait to taste that damn flush with my tongue one day.

“What do you mean you’ve never seen A Christmas Story?” Addie asks as the movie closes with Ralphie, now a grown man, sitting at the dinner table. She tosses a piece of popcorn at me, I think, but it doesn’t make it anywhere close to my body.

“We were always more of a National Lampoon family. Give me Clarke Griswold, and I can recite every line. It lives on repeat at my parents’ house during the holidays.” Such good memories around that old movie.

Coraline grabs her empty wine glass and eyes the bottle sitting on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed. You want me to take that away?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Addie mocks her. “Thanks for coming with me today, sissy.”

“Where else would I be? Where you go, I go. Love you, Addie.” She picks up the bottle of wine and turns to me. “Merry Christmas, Leo. You joining us for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Not sure. That’s Addie’s call. But I did want to invite you both to my parents’ tomorrow for a late Christmas dinner. The holidays tend to revolve around the football and hockey schedules in my family. Everyone but Hendrix will be there, so it’ll kinda be baptism by fire. But really, you’ve met my sisters and future sister-in-law.”

“You should go, Addie.” Coraline moves around the couch, but Addie spins on her knees, and grabs her sister’s arm.

“Without you?” she asks, clearly hating the idea.

“Crown up, buttercup. You’re going to marry the man, Adelaide. Time to meet the family. Besides, I could use a little me time.”

Slowly, Addie turns back, looking less than thrilled. “Are you sure about this, Leo?”

“We’ve got this, sweetheart.” I pull her over to me and throw her legs over my lap. “I’ve got something for you too, you know.”

I pull the ring box out of my pocket and hold it in front of her.

“Leo,” she sighs. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“Oh, baby . . . You’re going to have to get used to me doing—because I usually do.”

I crack the red-velvet box open, and Addie gasps, “Leo.”

The brilliant-cut, flawless three-carat diamond solitaire sparkles, picking up the white lights from the Christmas tree, and I slide it on her ring finger. Fits like a glove. Guess I better thank Coraline for that. “Gorgeous and understated, just like the woman who wears it.” I press a kiss to her temple. “Marry me, Adelaide.” I choose my next words carefully, not wanting to scare her, and knowing she’s not ready for everything I want to say. Not yet. “Let me make you safe.”

“How can I do this, knowing that I’m going to ruin your life, Leo?” Her words are meant to put space between us, but even as she says them, she presses her hand against my chest and leans closer.

“You’re not ruining my life, Addie,” I reassure her. “I told you⁠—”

“Leo.” She covers my mouth with her fingers. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you. Are you sure? Because if you back out now, it doesn’t hurt anyone. But if you back out in a month, I’m not even sure what the consequences are on the estate, but the consequences on that little girl sleeping upstairs . . . the one who already thinks you hung the moon . . . those will be huge.”

The fear rolling off her in waves is palpable, and I hate that it’s even there.

Never again.

She’s never going to fear anything ever again, if I have anything to say about it.

“Marry me, Addie. Let’s go to the courthouse tomorrow morning.”

“Leo—”

“Come on, Adelaide. The wedding is a formality. You need the marriage. So, marry me. I’ve got a game the day after, and then back-to-back away games leading up to New Year’s, so this works with the schedule.” She needs this, and I’m going to make sure she gets everything she needs.

Soft brown eyes study my face before she nods. “Tomorrow. Okay, let’s get married tomorrow.” She swallows slowly. “Then I guess we can move you in after.”

“Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.” I gather her face in my hands and hold her there. “I don’t want to leave you.”

She closes her eyes as if she’s fighting something.

“Leo . . . I can’t promise I’ll ever be able to give you what you want.” She climbs into my lap and tugs at my hoodie. “But I don’t want you to leave either, even if I don’t think I can give you what you want.”

“Baby steps, Mrs. Sinclair.” I tease my lips over hers, and she laughs.

“Oh, I’m taking your name, am I?” She bites at my lip, then shimmies against me when my dick pulses in my sweats. “Why shouldn’t you take my name?”

“I don’t want your money or your name, sweetheart. I just want you.” If her father were here now, I’d tell him exactly what he could do with both.

“How about a compromise? I’ll take it legally but not professionally,” she offers.

That’ll work.

I run my hand up and down her back, going lower with each sweep. “Professionally?”

Pretty sure this intensely private woman hasn’t ever mentioned what she does for a living.

Addie runs her fingers along my lip, hesitating. “I’m a romance author.”

I grab her wrist, stopping the movement and kiss the tips of her fingers. “That’s cool as hell, sweetheart. You should be proud of that. Why didn’t you mention it before?”

“I guess I was struggling with this book, and it had me worried I wasn’t going to be able to get it written.”

“And now?”

“I just needed some inspiration to hit.” She adjusts herself on my lap, and there is absolutely no fucking way she can’t feel how much I want her. “And it started a few weeks ago. I’ve got a few chapters left to write. But I should have it done by the deadline next month.”

There goes that damn flush again.

“Inspiration, huh?” I ask, and she nods.

Damn . . . There are so many ways I want to inspire this woman.