Page 30 of Broken King

Adaline never got over her hate for Dad.

She hated that he made a fool out of her publicly with the scandal.

She hated that she could be replaced so easily.

I swear she only stayed in Philly until I graduated from high school just so she could have something to hold over Dad. My father may not have been the most loving father in the world, but he never made me feel like part of a transaction the way Adaline did.

If going inside this house is the first step in giving my daughter a better life than I had, then so be it.

Len gasps into the phone. “Holy hell. Scarlet Leigh, you’re nervous.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying my pain, Lenny Lou. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I study the gorgeous house in front of me. It’s an elegant Tudor home with high-pitched rooflines and beautiful brickwork, mixed with cream stucco, dark wood, and at least two chimneys stacks in the middle of a large lot surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this.

My stomach churns as I get out of the car and slowly make my way to the front door. Just as I raise my hand to knock, it opens, and Imogen appears. She’s dressed in short jean shorts and a long-sleeved white shirt with the Crucible logo stretched across her chest in dark green and a backpack resting over one shoulder.

Forest-green eyes, just like her brother’s, scan me from head to toe. But Imogen doesn’t say a word as she squeezes past, leaving the front door wide open. For a minute, I think she’s going to walk away without acknowledging me. But then she manages to mumble something about Cade and the kitchen before getting in the SUV and driving away.

Okay... I step through the door, hesitant to call out because I don’t know if Cade’s daughter is asleep yet or not.

What time do toddlers go to bed?

Shit.

Another question I need to add to my growing list. I quietly pull the door closed behind me and notice a rubber mat with discarded shoes next to the closet to my left and a large arching doorway to my right. I’m guessing the kitchen is that way.

Should I take my shoes off?

Why is this so awkward?

Deciding I’m more comfortable if I leave them on, I make my way deeper into the house, following the incredible smell wafting from the kitchen. I take in all the rooms I pass by, feeling like I’m trespassing in Cade’s personal space. Every inch of this home exudes comfort and love, from the toys scattered throughout to the pictures adorning the walls.

As I move closer to the kitchen, I hear the low notes of a U2 song playing and come to a halt at the sight before me. There’s a large breakfast nook with a built-in bench and table perfectly placed in front of the French doors, leading out to what I’m guessing is an oversized backyard.

The table is set for two.

And Cade St. James stands at a large, dark granite island, barefoot, in low-slung jeans and a white t-shirt stretched across his muscular chest, singing the lyrics to “With Or Without You,” by U2 while he chops the carrots he’s throwing into a salad.

And holy shit, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.

Until he raises his eyes to meet mine.

Those green eyes sparkle as his entire face transforms with an easy-going smile.

Sending my hormones into overdrive.

Keeping this man in the friend zone may be the hardest part of this pregnancy.

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