Page 43 of Forbidden Vows

“They’d better. I had wagyu steaks flown in from Japan for Falcon.”

“That was thoughtful. Thank you. You know how seriously my dad takes his cuts of meat.”

“He’s gonna need the stamina to get through a second honeymoon.”

“Gross.”

He gives me a sexy wink, sending a delicious little shiver straight to my core. “Someone adorable once taught me the importance of protein.”

I attempt to come up with something cute to say. “Hmm…” I tap my chin with a pink nail. “Who would that be?”

Flirting just doesn’t come naturally to me. Why do some people, i.e., Blaze, look sexy when they wink, while others, i.e., me, look like they’ve got a nervous twitch? Life is so not fair.

Darn that genetic gamble of the dice.

If he and Ididhave children together, would they be round little hobbits or major league cuties? Perhaps a combination.Wait.

Banishing all taboo thoughts of bearing my stepbrother’s children, I follow him out the back door into the bramble-covered gardens. “Mind the gap,” he jokes, pointing to the massive hole in the ground, a bobcat digger sitting in the middle. “That’s going to be a pool.”

“Gotcha.” I picture the finished yard, a lush garden ripe with fruit and flowers in bloom. A pool of blue watersparkling in the sunlight. Stone paths, statues, and water features.

“Here’s the garden shed, but it’s big enough to be a guest house. I don’t know what to do with it, but I love eating out here.”

“I can see why.”

“Really? It’s such a mess right now. Most people can’t picture the vision till it’s complete.”

“You only need a little imagination.”

“I like that.” There’s a small table with two chairs, and a breakfast spread over the top of the table. Toast, jam, and juice, among other things. He pulls a chair out for me. “Here we are.”

My favorite breakfast. I take a seat. “Thank you.” The bread is freshly baked, the orange juice is real, and we’re dining al fresco in the sea breeze—my classic breakfast elevated to Bachman standards.

I take another bite of the toast. “This might be the best bread I’ve ever had. Do they make it here?”

“Yep. We’ve got a bakery on site. At the café.” He leans in with a wicked grin. “The secret ingredient is crime.”

Whether illegally paid for or not, I could get used to this. I will use his crime statement to investigate. “Tell me more about what the Bachmans do.”

“Investments,” he says, leaving it at that.

“Investments?” My brows raise. “What else? Tell me more.”

“If I did, I’d have to kill you.” He gives me a devilish grin.

I lean back in my seat. “What?” Okay, so not having his babies.

“Kidding.” He chuckles. “Or you could marry me. Then I could tell you all my secrets.”

His joke makes my heart beat faster. I play it off. “If I married you, what would that make us?”

“Husband and wife?”

“But we’re already stepbrother and stepsister. So, sadly, no wedding.”

“That is sad.” There’s a little too much wistfulness in his tone. He looks out over the garden. “I think you’d like it here.”

“I do!” Too much. I dab my mouth with my napkin, buying time to recover from the flutter in my chest as I wipe my fingers on the cloth. Clearing my throat, I stand. “Shall we paint?”

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