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“I’m just going to go kiss my daughter and remind her I’m alive, and then I’ll be back to help with dinner.”
Still out of sorts, I accept the knife with a small smile and a nod.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Leonard
“Did you have fun with Shelby?”
Riley nods, never taking her eyes off the small television.
“Do I have to help with dinner?”
I roll my eyes at the question. I really need to lose that habit.
“No,” I answer. “But once dinner is ready, your screen time is done for the night,” I warn, dropping a kiss to the top of her head.
Standing, I leave Riley lying on her bed, and the show’s catchy theme tune follows me out of her room.
Trying not to startle Shelby again, I make sure to step a little harder than normal as I walk down the corridor toward the kitchen.
“Thank you for starting dinner.” Pausing at the doorway, I watch her chop, her fingers quick and steady.
“No problem.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal.
But it is. I haven’t had a woman take care of us for a long time.
Walking behind her, my hand anchors to her waist. “Thank you,” I whisper into her hair and press a kiss to the brown tresses.
Her body responds instantly, shivering beneath my grasp.
Moving to the other side of the island, I take notice of her beaded nipples and smirk. Shelby craves me just as much as I do her.
“I was just going to sauté some vegetables with chicken and rice.” Shelby downplays her cooking.
Picking up another knife and a chopping board, I reach for a carrot. “It was a nice sight to come home to.”
“Better than Sarah?” She rolls her eyes.
My blood heats at the sight. Squinting, I wave my knife in her direction. “Injured or not”—I nod to her hand—“don’t think I won’t spank the sass out of you.”
Shelby’s face flames, and she stutters.
Seeing words fail her, I smirk. “That’s what I thought. Stop rolling your eyes.”
We chop in silence for a few minutes before Shelby hesitantly asks, “Have you spoken to Sarah?”
I grunt, “I have. Seems her ex-boyfriend wanted to work things out, and in her excitement, she forgot about Riley. Said she only meant to go out to his car and speak to him, but . . .” I shrug. “I also spoke to Sarah’s father and the boy’s parents. Now, no one is happy.” I smirk, proud of myself.
“Good.” Shelby tuts. “How do you forget about a child? You should have called the sheriff.”
“Perhaps,” I acknowledge, “but everything turned out okay, and I don’t think McCallister would press charges anyway.”
Shelby pulls a face at the mention of the sheriff’s name.
“Not a fan?” I ask.
“No, he’s given the Cromwells some trouble the past few years. God knows how he keeps winning the election.”
