Lured

2-2

DRESSED IN A GREEN sweater and jeans, my blonde hair still wet against my shoulder blades, I jogged into the kitchen, as Sean lowered a plate holding four slices of toast and two poached eggs onto the table.

He inclined his head. “Sit.”

I sent him a smile on the way to my usual spot, parked my rear on the oak-carved chair.

Ethan smirked from the opposite seat, humour lending a shine to dark eyes that matched Sean’s. “Good evening.”

I picked up my fork. “You’re getting funnier, Ethan. You’ve been practicing again, haven’t you?”

The chair to my left scraped out as Sean joined me with a plate of his own. He nudged a drink in front of me and pointed his knife at my food while shovelling a forkful of egg into his cavernous mouth. “Eat.”

“Very masterful.” My gaze lifted to Nathan on my right. “You must be so proud of your Neanderthals.”

Nathan’s focus never left his newspaper. “Eat your food, Jem.”

“Wonder where they get it from.” Toast and egg found their way into my mouth, rinsed down with a swig of coffee.

“If you want Sean to join you today, you’d better get a move on.” Nathan’s eyes remained downcast toward his paper. “If we don’t leave soon, we’ll fall behind, and then I won’t be able to spare him.”

Despite my mouthful of food, I smiled. I’d got my way, and would get to spend the day with Sean—alone.

Sean’s increased speed suggested approval of his dad’s decision, too. As soon as he finished, he jumped up from the table and sped to the bathroom.

While I waited, I cleared away the breakfast plates, piling them into the dishwasher. My head tilted at Sean’s footsteps padding back across the landing. Lids lowering, I envisaged his n***d body glistening from the water, steam rising from his flesh on contact with the cool air.

My eyes opened. I turned toward the stairs. Took a step.

“Sit down,” Nathan ordered.

When I peered once more toward where my mind had travelled, Nathan cleared his throat. With a sigh, I slumped into my seat, glaring at Ethan’s quiet snorts of laughter into his mug.

A few minutes later, Sean’s booted feet carried him back into the kitchen. The dampness of his hair made it appear almost black. Along the back of his T-shirt, a line of moisture clung, where he’d failed to dry the rivulets either side of his spine.

I tracked his movements across the room to pick up his wallet and keys.

As he shoved them into his jeans pockets, he turned and sent me a flash of a grin, and my stomach tightened in response.

“Time to go.” Nathan pushed up from his chair. “You won’t need your keys, Sean. We’ll all go in the pickup.”

Sean’s frown appeared fast and furious, booting his grin aside. “But ... Dad ...”

A thirty-two-year-old man being told what to do by his father could be considered quite sad, but it was the way of the pack—the Alpha said jump, we asked how high?

“You can drop me and Ethan off,” Nathan said. “And I need you to make a list of the piping we’ll need for the showroom kitchen. Then you’re free to go, and you can collect us on your way home when you’ve finished.”

“But ...” Sean stared down at his Porsche keys.

“Take it or leave it, Son. It’s my only offer.”

“Sure.” Sean tossed the keys down before following Nathan to the door.

***