Page 38 of The Sweet Spot

“I am.” Even though I wish I wasn’t, but I don’t tell him that. “I’ve got one more week to go before I start at Crucible.”

“I promised Kennedy I’d take her shopping once I’m home tomorrow, but I need to fucking see you, red. I need to touch you and not be stuck behind a goddamned screen.”

A nervous zing of anticipation runs down my body. “Is that your way of asking me on a date, Deacon?”

“It’s my way of saying let me cook you dinner the night after, then let me eat you for dessert. Come to my house. Pack a bag. And let’s not get out of bed for a few fucking days.”

Holy hotness . . . this man.

Yes, please.

“I’m working with Gracie in the morning and have a few appointments later in the afternoon. I’m not sure exactly what the next few days look like.” Except maybe I’ll be squeezing in one more trip to Le Désir lingerie shop.

“Good, baby. Because I promised Kennedy I’d take her shopping, but then I want you in my bed all weekend.”

Who am I to say no to that?

Afew hours later, I get settled on my couch with Sweet Temptations s’mores cupcake. A girl has to have her vices, and chocolate and caffeine are mine. I’m also that girl who likes her air-conditioning cranked low so she can be under a blanket. Which is why I’m tucked under a blanket in the corner of our couch with my iPad out when Maddox waltzes into the condo like he owns the place.

I spin to my knees and lean over the back of the couch as he makes his way into the kitchen. “Hey, asshole. You moved. You don’t get a key.”

“Not how this works, Brynnie. I raided your fridge when you lived upstairs, and you let me. No changing the rules now.” He looks in my Sweet Temptations bag and hums when he sees Aunt Amelia’s cupcakes.

“Ohh. These are my favorite.”

“Maddox, I’m going to kill you,” I growl like a feral fucking cat.

“You won’t be the first or last to try.” He pulls out a cookie and a mint chocolate-chip cookie cupcake. “You don’t even like mint chip. You know you bought this for me.”

I turn back around and tuck myself back under the soft white blanket.

Of course he’s right. I always get the damn mint chip because whenever I stop, I get enough for all of us, the guys included. Especially since it was just me in the condo after Kenzie moved out until Gracie came back.

The shit sits down next to me with his cupcake, his cookie, and a glass of milk, then picks up the remote. “Did you see that new Brat Pack documentary yet? It just came out last week. Looks pretty good.”

I steal the remote and the cookie right out of his hand and break off half, then take a sip of his milk too, just because I know he won’t stop me, and I want to be a pain in his ass. Once I’m satisfied, I hand him the remote but hold it out of reach. “Why didn’t you just tell me about my mom, Maddox?”

He dunks the cookie in his milk, because he knows I’ll never eat it after that, and stretches his legs up on the ottoman. “I would have told you either way, Brynn. But I’ve been trying to get you to swap condos for months.” He pops the whole fucking cookie in his mouth, then washes it down with the rest of the milk before he turns to me. “You didn’t need all that space. I did.”

“You didn’t need it. You and Callen were fine in here,” I argue, refusing to let him off that easy.

“Listen... Killian has been wanting to move out for months?—”

“Stop... Just stop.” I give in and drop the remote on his lap.

“Brynnie—You can’t be mad at me,” he pouts, and I actually laugh. His father is the head of the Philadelphia Mafia, and he just pouted because I’m pissed.

“Fine,” I give in. “I guess you’re right. I can’t be mad. Especially after the conversation I had with your mom when I picked up my coffee and cupcakes today.” I lift my brows and bite down on my lip, knowing this is going to be good.

He turns on the TV and brings up the apps list, searching for the documentary. “What conversation?”

Now it’s my turn to enjoy the torture.

The beauty of growing up so close to your cousins might be always having them by your side, but that also means you know how to hit them where it hurts the hardest when they’re least expecting it. When we were little, Maddox hated having the hair on his arm pulled.

Today, I may as well have pulled them all out, one by one.

Madman stiffens beside me. “What. Conversation. Brynn?”

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