Page 1 of Forsaking All Others

Chapter One

Maverick Burnside

“My Aunt Fernused to say any woman who thinks the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach is aiming about ten inches too high,” Holly says, smacking my hand from the tray of corn fritters. I manage to snag one before she takes the silver tray and moves it to the other side of the counter, far away from my reach. Popping the freshly fried fritter into my mouth, I study my ex-wife, watching as she rearranges the remaining fritters on the tray.

The woman can throw down in the kitchen.

“Is that why you never cooked for me?” I tease, eager to rile her up. A ticked off Holly makes for an entertaining time. She grabs another fancy ass tray from the cabinet and starts plating the braised steak tips.

My fucking favorite.

“I never cooked for you because you were never home,” she sasses, keeping her back to me.

Ignoring the jab at our past, I leave my spot at the other end of the kitchen and make my way toward her.

“Your Aunt Fern was wrong,” I mutter, reaching around her to steal a piece of steak.

And so was I because Holly did cook, five—sometimes six nights a week—until the dinners got cold on the stove and I stopped coming home.

She spins around quickly, swatting my hand with the spatula.

The woman always did have quick reflexes.

Her brown eyes narrow into tiny slits as she glares at me and the urge to grin tugs at me as a sense of nostalgia hits me hard. There used to be a time in our lives when all Holly had to do was shoot me that look and seconds later we were both naked, fucking on the kitchen floor like our lives depended on it. Hell, if memory serves me correctly that’s how our daughter was conceived. I wonder if her Aunt Fern schooled her on what those eyes of hers could do to a man too. Did she warn her niece that when paired with that sassy mouth, she had the power to bring a man to his knees?

She tosses the spatula onto the counter and crosses her arms against her chest. I brace myself for the tongue lashing, watching as she cocks her head to the side. The anger fades from her dark brown eyes and it serves as a reminder that she’s changed. We both have. The things that used to get us going don’t exist anymore.

“She sure was,” she hisses. “She said give a man a blow job he’ll never forget, and he won’t ever cheat.”

I flinch.

It doesn’t matter how much time has passed or how different our lives have become, that still fucking stings. But that’s the nature of the beast, isn’t it? Our biggest regrets never leave us. Once they stab us, they stick and every now and again that knife turns, cuttin’ and diggin’ deeper and deeper.

Holly uncrosses her arms and inches closer to me until her breath touches my ear and she whispers, “Quit picking, Maverick.”

Inching back a couple of paces, she winks, flashing me a cheeky grin.

That smirk is another weapon of hers.

It gets me every damn time.

Our son Shepard is living proof of that. She flashed me that sexy grin and nine months later we became a family of four.

Clearing my throat, I shake my head.

“You don’t play fair.”

“Well, would you look at that, I guess you did teach me something after all,” she quips, turning to take the tray from the counter. She holds it between us and gives me an exasperated sigh. “Take one and only one,” she warns, narrowing her eyes for extra emphasis.

A smile creeps across my lips and I quickly lean over her, swiping the spatula from the counter before she can change her mind. Careful not to mess up her presentation, I take a piece of steak. The second the tender beef touches my tongue, I groan.

Yeah, the woman can get down and dirty in the kitchen for sure.

“Good?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Woman, that’s fucking amazing,” I reply, still chewing, trying to savor the measly piece of steak. “You got my number should you ever feel generous enough to set an extra seat at the dinner table.”

She rolls her eyes.

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