Page 35 of His Greatest Treasure

“Do you know how to wrap your hair in a towel?” Nova asks, her voice cutting through the fog of my bitter arousal.

I lick my dry lips and slowly move toward them. “I’m sure he does.”

“How do you wrap it?” He surprises me with the genuine curiosity in his tone.

Nova’s eyes glitter. “Oh! I can show you.”

“Later, sweetheart. We don’t need hair wraps tonight. Dinner will be here any minute.”

She pouts but doesn’t argue. Her tiny nod makes me feel guilty, and I take a bated breath.

“Your mom is right. Next time,” Oliver says.

My heart skips like a horny bitch at his support, but I don’t focus on it. Instead, I scold the damned organ and set a hand on Nova’s shoulder to guide her away from the door.

“Come inside. I don’t want bugs in the house,” I mutter.

“She makes me kill them,” Nova says, the traitor.

Oliver smirks at that, one brow pulling upward. “Even the spiders?”

“Especially the spiders. But I like doing it.”

“Not all the time,” I defend myself. With both of them out of the doorway, I’m quick to shut it and twist the lock. “It’s either that or leave them trapped in a cup just so they can escape later when I forget about them.”

“Just squash them with a shoe.”

“That’s what I do!” Nova squeals, preening under the smile he flashes her way.

“Smart girl.”

I huff at their bonding. It’s too sudden. He hasn’t even had to work to earn Nova’s affection, and she’s already handing it to him like she shares her snacks with other kids on the playground. I should be proud of her for being so kind and open, but when it comes to Oliver, I don’t want him to gain her friendship too quickly only to hurt her later on when he grows tired of whatever kind of game it is he’s playing with us.

My momma bear instincts rear up as I fix him with a tight look and wait for him to notice. He slips out of his shoes, and finally, his hazel eyes dart to me.

“Drink?” I ask,voice short and sharp.

“Water’s good.”

“Great.” Spinning on my heel, I leave him in the kitchen, knowing Nova will show him around on my behalf.

My seven-year-old daughter is proving to be more mature than me right now. More accepting and kind. I’m behaving like an immature asshole, but my natural stubbornness makes it hard to change that. Not yet, without knowing that he’s worth the effort.

13

AVERY

I keepan ear open so I can hear Oliver and Nova talk as I take two glasses from the cupboard and fill them with the jug of filtered water from the fridge. Dew collects along the edges of the glasses, leaving my hands wet when I carry them out to the dining table. I get one of Nova’s juice boxes next—the kind with so much sugar she only gets them on nights like tonight—and set it beside the waters.

“Do you like being a firefighter?” Nova asks when I join them again, seemingly walking into their already sparking conversation.

“Yes.”

“Are you strong?”

“I think so.”

She hums, and I imagine she’s tapping her chin in thought. “Can you carry a person?”

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