Page 63 of Taming the Boss

For that matter, I wanted her to get used to me kissing her too.

This time, she didn’t move away, just let out a soft, startled sound entirely too reminiscent of the ones she’d made in the shower that morning. She glanced at Owen who’d instantly stuck his thumb in his mouth, but he hadn’t moved away or made a face or done anything that indicated he wasn’t happy with what he was bearing witness to.

“Looks dee-ishous too,” Owen added, staring avariciously at the hot dogs she was frying.

We both laughed.

“What’s this frying deal?” I asked.

“My mom always made them that way. Of course, my dad is always about the grill. Do you have a grill?”

“Not unless it came with the house.”

Maddie handed me the spatula to man the frying hot dogs while she rushed to the window that overlooked the back deck. “Nope. Don’t see one. You’ll probably want one.”

“Do you know how to grill?”

“The basics, sure. You don’t?”

“I lived in an apartment before I moved here. I absolutely do not know how to grill.” Going with impulse, I tilted my head at Owen. I had an odd feeling he hadn’t been included most of the time when he’d lived with his mom, so I wanted to treat him differently. “Do you know how to grill?”

He giggled. “I just eat.”

“Me too. We can handle that part if Maddie can take care of the grilling part. That work for you?”

“Sure. I make a mean burger with all the fixings.” She hurried over to grab the spatula as the sizzling grew louder and the skins on the hot dogs started to split. “And these dogs are done. Gonna be another couple minutes for the spaghetti. While you men eat, I’ll run home to get some clothes. I bought a few things this week too,” she added.

“No problem. I left you the card for a reason.” A frisson of unease skated up my spine. She wasn’t going to split and never return. “But don’t you want lunch? I can take you home later if you want.”

“I’m still full from breakfast, so I’ll just save a plate for leftovers later.”

“Oh, okay. That works.”

As if she knew I was tense, she turned to run a hand over my belly just above my belt after I set Owen on his preferred stool. Immediately, he started having a conversation between his stuffed giraffe and his stuffed fish, though I hadn’t even noticed him bring that one back down from his bedroom.

“We still need to get him more sneakers, remember?” Her voice was low and reassuring, as if she understood I was concerned she’d take off.

Was I that obvious? Yes, probably.

Rather than answer her, I ran my hand down her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead, immeasurably soothed when she lifted her head to seek my lips. This kiss wasn’t quite as chaste as the first one in Owen’s presence had been, but it was brief.

She was testing the limits. Easing Owen in to our relationship, whatever it would end up being.

Maybe even easing me in because my original intention had involved sex, absolutely, but more control and less affection. Being in control was where I felt most at ease, and since my son had come into my life, I’d had little.

I didn’t understand any of the rules when it came to parenthood.

Or maybe even when it came to Maddie Masterson.

“I remember. And this time, I’ll be there the whole time.” I gripped her hand before she began scooping the spaghetti into the large bowls from the set Caro had purchased. Then she chopped up the hot dogs and added them and some jarred sauce to the bowl of pasta she presented to Owen. “Normally, you just add the sauce and hot dogs to the spaghetti pot, but I have this weird feeling you’ll both want to customize.”

“Um, yes.” I wasn’t even sure I wanted to try this meal, but I would because she’d gone to the trouble of making it.

“I forgot to get an onion and some of the spices my mom would use when she didn’t just substitute Chef Boyardee, but I did get some cloves of garlic so I added that first thing. Who doesn’t like garlic, right? Okay, fine there are probably some people, but whatever.” She let out one of her breathless giggles that had me instantly growing hard as she gave Owen a fork from the drawer. “Tell me if you want more sauce, buddy, okay?”

“Okay.” He stared at the food as if he was trying to understand what he was looking at. I knew the feeling.

After a minute, he stopped staring at the food and gave in and started eating, though he focused on the cut-up hot dogs rather than the spaghetti. When he finished off the hot dogs and set down his bowl, Maddie sighed. “I should’ve gotten Chef Boyardee, but I didn’t think there was any way in hell you’d eat that.”

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