Page 53 of The Alpha's Broken Oath

“Morning. Mind if I join in to help?”

“Sure,” Deacon replies.

Standing by his side, taking an apron from the rack and putting it on, I help Deacon by taking out the pans from the bottom counter and placing them on the cooker before adding the butter.

Our shoulders touch, and I don’t have to look at him to see his smile.

“What are you smiling about?”

Whisk and bowl in hand, he turns to me and eyes my outfit that’s beneath my apron with mischievous eyes.

“You look good.”

Oh please, I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, and yet his compliment flays my nerves raw like butter on a hot skillet.

“Thanks. Someone bought me new clothes and hid them in my closet, so of course I had to wear them,” I say in humor.

“He has good taste,” Deacon replies with a smirk as if we are not speaking about it.

This is the most we’ve spoken in five days.

Most of the time, Deacon stays in his office and plays with Adrian and Ash, but he doesn’t speak to me or bother me in any way. I think he’s afraid that if he speaks to me, I’ll snap and take the boys away.

I should want him to think that, but why does my heart drop to my stomach at the thought of Deacon avoiding me?

“How are the panties, Winter? Do they fit, too?”

His steely, hooded eyes are accompanied by that panty-dropping smile. I fall for it. I fall for his words, hook, line, and sinker, and I can’t feel any guilt about it.

“Mommy? I think something’s burning.”

By the time I remember I’d put butter on the pan, Deacon’s already moving around me like a pro, throwing the pan in the sink, and taking another one and putting it on the cooker. Then he comes up behind me, his chest hugging my back, his breath patting the small hairs on the back of my neck and making my body shiver in a good way. I lean into his scent, my eyes closing at the sparks that ignite when his hands touch mine.

“Uncle Deacon, are you teaching Mommy to make pancakes?” Ash asks behind us, and I open my eyes slightly chuckling.

“Yes. We can’t have Mommy burning my entire kitchen,” Deacon replies just as easily as the hand he puts on my waist.

“Mommy knows how to cook our favorite pancakes,” Adrian retorts.

If I thought Deacon was close a minute ago, having my ass rest on his crotch confirms he’s closer now, and I can feel the reaction he has on me is the same reaction I have on him.

“Mommy doesn’t know how I make pancakes, though,” Deacon challenges.

Cocking my head to the side until our eyes meet, I flick my brow at him, “Are you challenging me right now, Mr. Cross?”

“I wouldn’t dare, baby, but this is my house, and today, I’m the one feeding you. Either we cook together, or you sit down and wait for your meal.”

Cooking with him means I get to feel him behind me while he whispers things in my ears.

Sitting down and waiting for the meal means I get to sit down and watch his muscles from the back and how they flex when he’s cooking pancakes.

I pick the latter.

XXX

Deacon’s pancakes were delicious. Better than anything I’d ever cooked, that’s for sure. I wanted to talk to him, maybe tell him that I was thinking of leaving with the boys today, but in the end, I didn’t tell him because the boys stole him from me before I had the chance to.

I’ve been holed up in my room, reading a book I snagged from Deacon’s library, and despite the number of hours I’ve spent on it, I can hardly tell who’s the main character and who isn’t.

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