Page 109 of Playboy

Dammit, Hall. I exhale a loud breath. “Don’t tell your aunt I said that.”

“Ducking? What’s wrong with ducks?”

I shake my head. If the kid hasn’t figured out what that’s a substitute for, I’m not about to tell him. Jeez, maybe this dad thing is harder than I thought.

I spin the hammer and tap it against the cookies, making them crumble into big pieces. “Can you do it like this?”

He shrugs. “Pretty sure Hannah will be home before we finish the cake if we do it like that.”

This kid. He’s always got a comment. I like it. He’s smarter than any four-year-old I’ve ever met. And while they aren’t blood, he’ll be my kid’s cousin. An older boy to look up to and learn from.

“It’s pie, not cake.”

Hannah doesn’t like cake. She mentioned it at dinner in Vermont. It’s the consistency. She prefers creamy things. Yeah, you heard that right, and of course I went there the second the words registered. She laughed her ass off, because she and I have the same sense of humor.

I scan the recipe on my phone, double-checking that I have all the ingredients.

A little banner appears at the top of the screen, a text from Camden, and instantly I grind my teeth.

Camden: If the rumors I’m hearing are true, the gods will be back together in no time.

“Put them in a plastic bag before you smash them.”

At the sound of Noah’s voice, I snap my head up, ignoring whatever Camden is hinting at.

Noah strides into the kitchen wearing nothing but a damn towel.

Already on edge, I can’t stop a growl from sneaking out. “We’ve been over this.”

Noah shakes his head. “She’s like my sister.”

“Likeyour sister. Not really your sister. And you are naked.”

Though he’s a good decade older than me, he’s in incredible shape. I’m not generally a jealous guy, and I know what I bring to the table, but I’m not an idiot. The last thing I want is a naked hockey player—like a brotheror not—walking around my girl’s apartment.

“She told me about your brother ducker comment,” he says under his breath.

I glare at him. “It was a perfectly reasonable reaction when I discovered you were living here.”

Side-eyeing me, he pops an Oreo into his mouth. “So ducking good,” he mumbles.

“Why do you guys keep talking like barn animals?” Oliver asks, head tipped back so he can see his dad. “Mommy always says we don’t live in a barn.”

Noah barks out a laugh while I dump the Oreos into a Ziplock bag.

“You’re making her favorite pie.” Noah hums in approval.

My chest expands with pride, but outwardly, I play it cool and lift a shoulder. “She doesn’t like cake.”

“And you know that how?”

I squeeze the bag, pulverizing the Oreos. “Because I listen.”

With a grin, he holds a fist out to Oliver. “Hear that, buddy? Always listen.” He spins on his heel and heads toward his room. “All right, I’m going to get dressed, and then I’ll come help you.”

“Who says I need your help?” I call.

“You almost let my kid take a hammer to Hannah’s counter, and the oven’s on fire,” Noah yells.

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