Page 96 of Offside Devil

I take a deep breath and push through the door.

The smell of sauteing onion and garlic hits me first. Then the sound of Aiden’s laughter almost knocks me over.

He’s standing at the counter, Zane just behind him, and they’re piling a mish-mash of ingredients into a massive tortilla. Zane is holding Aiden by the wrists, controlling his movements like he’s a puppet, and Aiden has never thought anything is as funny as this. He’s laughing so hard he can barely catch his breath.

“Aiden, what are you doing?!” Zane sounds horrified. “That’s way too many onions on my burrito! I don’t want that many! Aiden, stoooop!”

Aiden—still controlled by Zane—adds a fistful of onions to Zane’s plate and sags back against his dad’s chest in a fit of giggles.

Taylor armored me up and sent me in here to be a stone-cold bitch, but good fathers are my Achilles’ heel, apparently. Because something in my chest is going soft and gooey at the sight of the Whitaker boys together.

They both look up when the front door clicks closed.

God, they’re identical. Same messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Irresistible.

I promised myself I’d march into the condo with my head held high and go straight to my room, but I can’t blow past Aiden without a smile, at least. And I am kind of hungry.

I can still be annoyed with Zane, if only because he probably planned this. He thought he’d soften me up by cooking dinner and forming core memories with his adorable son.

That absolute monster.

“Hi.” I raise my hand in a wave, shopping bags sliding down my arms.

Zane still looks a little pale, but I’m not worried he’s going to hurl at any second. I’d call that an improvement.

He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes take a slow trip down my body. I’m having flashbacks to the night of the team party.

You are the single most gorgeous creature I’ve ever seen.

I’m no expert, but those don’t sound like the words of a man who has no interest in me. They sound like the words of a man who thinks I’m the single most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen. But again, what do I know?

Not what Zane Whitaker wants, that’s for sure. He, as always, remains a mystery.

Aiden, on the other hand, gasps. “You look like a princess!”

No foggy ulterior motives or mysterious feelings there, that’s for sure. Just compliments and the sweetest, most earnest little smile I’ve ever seen.

Men of the world, take notes. A four-year-old is running laps around all of you.

“You’re so sweet, A. Thank you.” I toss him a wink and he scrambles down from the counter.

“Are you dressing up?” He shoves both hands into my bag before I can stop him. “You need a crown.”

Dresses go flying over his shoulders before I can stop him.

“Whoa, cowboy. Hold on.” Zane hustles out of the kitchen and scoops Aiden up, tucking him under his arm like a yoga mat. “You should always ask before you go digging through a princess’s bags.”

So, maybe Zane isn’t a total monster. I need someone to send me a man with Aiden’s honesty and Zane’s manners… and Zane’s face and body and dexterity of tongue. Is that so much to ask?

Aiden giggles as Zane pokes his side. Then he wiggles free and runs back into the kitchen to keep making burritos.

“Sorry,” Zane mumbles, bending down to pick up the thousands of dollars’ worth of fabric now scattered across the floor.

“For what?” I ask before I can stop myself.

He freezes for just a second—barely long enough to notice—before he carries on like I didn’t say anything. When he picks up a black minidress with side panel cutouts, he holds it out to me. “This one’s a little fancy for the park.”

“You’re the one who banned sundresses.”

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