Page 34 of When the Storm Breaks
I stopped at a red light and adjusted the rearview mirror to see him better. “Why are you in such a hurry to lose your teeth?”
“Cause the tooth fairy comes and makes me rich. And Chase lost both of his front teeth already.” He scowled at the mention of Chase’s name and I stifled a laugh. His rivalry with Chase went back to nursery school when he punched the little weasel for making his best friend Hayley cry.
Guess my boy was more like me than I’d like him to be sometimes.
* * *
When Noahand I walked through the front door, the sound of her throaty laughter greeted my ears. Noah looked up at me, eyes wide as we followed the sound of their voices—one male and one decidedly female. “Does Uncle Ridge have a girlfriend?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Lemme see.” Noah ran to the kitchen, needing to find out for himself.
What was she doing here? In my house? Taking a deep breath, I ventured into the kitchen where Shiloh was sitting on the counter, a glass of something green in her hand. She was wearing skinny black jeans, a black cheetah print T-shirt and black leather high tops that were probably designer. Her hair was down, falling halfway down her back, shorter layers framing her face and in the light of day without makeup, she was fucking stunning.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice gruff.
“Nice to see you too, Cowboy. I needed a blender for my breakfast smoothie.” She lifted her glass to me. “Want one?”
“I’m Noah. I want a milkshake!”
He didn’t want a milkshake. He just didn’t want to be left out.
Shiloh smiled at him, giving him her full attention. If she was surprised that I had a son she didn’t show it. “Hi Noah. It’s nice to meet you. I’m... Sh... Viv,” she said, catching herself. “Is that your artwork on the refrigerator?”
Noah nodded. “Yep. I drawed the horses for daddy’s birthday.” He ran over to the refrigerator and rearranged the Tabasco bottle magnets then pointed to the other drawing. “And that one’s for Ridge. He likes fast girls and fast cars. So I drawed a girl runner. And a car.”
Ridge snort-laughed. I shot him a look, having only just heard the inspiration for the drawing. He was shirtless and barefoot, his hair still damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts slung low on his hips.
“Do you want to help me make the smoothie?” Shiloh asked Noah.
Never one to turn down an offer to help or show off, he nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. I’m good at chopping.”
According to Noah, he was good at everything. Nobody had ever told him otherwise.
“Let’s make a smoothie for your daddy too.” She winked at him. “The kale will give him bigger muscles.”
I pulled a face. Kale and apple and god knew what else went into that green drink. No way was I drinking it.
Noah’s eyes widened. “Bigger? He already has big guns. My daddy is ten feet tall and bulletproof. He can fix all the horses and even my baby brother. Right, Daddy?”
I shrugged. Gotta keep the myth alive for as long as my kid believed it. Any day now he’d realize I was all too human and not a miracle worker. I dreaded that day. I dreaded the day he stopped looking at me like I was capable of making his world a better place. But for now, he was still a believer and far be it from me to dispute his claims.
“You know it, buddy.” No mystery where my kid got his bragging rights. Ridge was laughing so hard he was doubled over. I scrubbed my hand over my face.
I’d never introduced Noah to any of my hook-ups. I’d always kept that part of my life separate. But Shiloh... she was different. We weren’t even hooking up, but it already felt more intimate than sex with a random girl ever had. And now here she was, in my kitchen, peeling apples and talking with my son while my brother stared at her ass the same way I’d been doing last night.
“Wipe the drool off your mouth,” I said, pulling up a stool at the island next to him.
Talk about a train wreck. Why was this girl barging into my life, taking over my kitchen and commanding the attention of all three males in the room?
“Not bad, huh?” Ridge smirked.
I ignored his smart-ass comment.
“You should invite your friends over more often.”
“Didn’t invite her.”
