Page 29 of Teasing a King

“Of course, I like him,” I say. “We’re friends. Co-parents. Liking one another is a good thing.”

Hope shoots me a look. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

I shove my phone into my purse. “I wish you’d let this go. Van and I are just friends. And it’s staying that way.”

Hope shakes her head sadly as she slides from the booth and stands. “You’re so stubborn,” she says, sighing.

I grin at her. “I think you mean strong-willed,” I say as we walk toward the front door. “Which is an excellent trait to pass on to my future son or daughter.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Careful what you wish for. Auntie Hope is going to encourage all sorts of questionable behavior during those teen years.”

“Don’t you dare,” I say. “Payback is hell.”

When we’re standing out in front of my car, Hope turns to me with a serious expression. “I just wish you wouldn’t shut out the possibility,” she says.

I blow out a breath. “And I wish you’d stop worrying about me,” I say. “I know what I’m doing.”

Hope doesn’t look convinced, but she drops the subject. For now, at least. “Fine,” she says, pulling me to her in a quick hug. “But I’m never going to stop worrying about you. Have fun shopping. Text me later.”

I smile. “Thanks. I will.”

With a wave, Hope climbs into her Jeep and drives away. I feel my shoulders slump once she’s gone. I think about our conversation. I hadn’t lied to Hope. I really do think it’s best for everyone if Van and I keep things the way they are. It’s just that the more I’m around him, the less friendly I feel toward him. And I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hide my attraction.

Chapter Thirteen

Van

I wave to Molly as I leave Mack’s. I can’t remember the last time I left work early. Over the years, some of my employees have accused me of being a workaholic. It’s not true, of course. I just take a lot of pride in my business. Mack’s is the success it is today because of all the work Wyatt and I have put into it over the years. I know we could take a step back now, leave the day-to-day stuff to one of the managers. But it’s hard to relinquish control after so long. I imagine it feels like watching your kid leave for college. Not that I would know about that. Not yet, at least.

On that note, I smile. Speaking of kids, I’m heading to go pick up Mya so we can go shopping for baby stuff. I feel a rush of excitement at the idea as I make my way to my car. I shake my head. Who would have thought I’d be excited over shopping for baby stuff? Impending fatherhood has definitely changed me. For the better, I think.

As I drive, I think back over the past week since Mya has moved in with me. It’s been a much easier transition than I’d anticipated. It turns out, I like having her in my home. She’s easy to live with. We get along great, but I’d known that beforehand. There’s something calming and peaceful about knowing she’s under the same roof. If I look forward to coming home to her at night, there’s nothing wrong with that. Right?

I enjoy our daily conversations where we unpack the events of the day as we make dinner in the kitchen. Or, if I work the closing shift, over breakfast the next morning. Though, some nights, I’ve come home after midnight to find Mya in the kitchen in her pajamas. She says she can’t sleep, but part of me wonders if she stays up just for me. I try to pretend that same part of me isn’t hoping that’s true.

I try to tell myself it’s because we’re friends. Of course, I enjoy spending time with her. It would be a bad thing if I didn’t. So, why do I look forward to every interaction with her? Why can’t I stop thinking about her? Why is just being near her enough to make my hand itch with the need to touch her? Those aren’t exactly the thoughts of someone who wants to be platonic.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel, and I sigh. It’s been a week and I’m already wanting to ask her to revoke her rule about being just friends. How the hell am I supposed to keep pretending I don’t want her? It was bad enough when I was just lying to myself. But now that I’ve come to terms with it inside my own head, it’s all I can do to reign in my wayward thoughts when she’s around. Or even when she’s not. I’ve jerked off more in the last week than I did in high school. And it’s still not enough. It only takes the edge off for a little while. Then my thoughts are right back in the gutter. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m a deviant. If Mya ever finds out, she’ll pack up and leave without another word. I wouldn’t even blame her.

Realizing I’m close to the house with no memory of the drive home, I shake my head to clear it. I’ve got to pull myself together. I’m about to pick Mya up to go baby shopping, for god’s sake. I can’t have sex on the brain while choosing crib mobiles or buying car seats. Only a degenerate would act that way. Then again, people have sex in order to get pregnant, so it’s not such a stretch to imagine that some of them are thinking naughty thoughts while with their significant other. Right? I sigh. Even I know I’m reaching.

I pull the car to a stop in front of the house as Mya opens the front door. She smiles and waves at me before turning to make sure the door is locked. I climb out of the car and hurry around to open her door. Mya looks at me in surprise.

“Thank you,” she says with a smile that threatens to take my breath.

I dip my head in a nod. “Of course.”

I hurry around to the driver’s side and climb in. As I pull away from the curb, Mya asks where we’re heading first. I tell her about a few stores Ronan had mentioned to me. I’d asked my big brother for recommendations. He’s the only person I know who’s been shopping for baby cribs recently. Ronan had immediately gone into great detail about the crib he and Quinn had bought and the many others they’d looked at first. He’d also talked about strollers, shocking me with the price they’d paid for the one they chose. I think my first car had cost less.

It had been a surprise to me to see my normally stoic brother become so animated over baby furniture. It would have been amusing if it hadn’t made me so happy to see. It’s no secret that Ronan didn’t have the easiest time in the Marine Corps. He’d come back changed. Quiet. Withdrawn. Closed off, almost. We’d all grown used to his quiet demeanor over the years. It wasn’t until Quinn came along that he began to show glimpses of the man he’d been before war had taken its toll on him. We’re all grateful to her for bringing our brother back to us.

I drive to the store Ronan had sworn had the highest quality baby cribs. We park in front of the store. It looks like a boutique baby store. Hope turns to me with brows raised.

“This looks fancy,” she says.

I smile. “Nothing but the best for our baby,” I say in a terrible Trans-Atlantic accent straight out of a black and white movie.

Mya giggles and looks down at her outfit of leggings and a flowy shirt. “Does this place have a dress code?”

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