Page 31 of Broken King

“I guessImogen isn’t the only singer in the family, is she?”

Scarlet Kingston is standing in my kitchen in the same black pencil skirt and white blouse from earlier. Her hair is pulled back from her face, and her hot-pink shoes match the bag she has resting in the crook of her arm. She’s the epitome of elegance and grace.

Perfection.

So far out of my league.

“Hey, duchess.” Her cheeks pink, and a small smile graces her face for a single heartbeat before the ice queen returns and a mask drops into place, concealing her emotions.

Scarlet moves further into the room, laying her purse on the counter. She looks around the kitchen almost nervously, then points over her shoulder. “Imogen let me in on her way out. She didn’t seem thrilled with me, but that seems to be going around lately.”

“Ignore Gen. She’s been in a mood all day.” I chose not to add that she’s taken it out on me the whole time. “Do you want something to drink?”

Scarlet eyes the bottle of beer sitting in front of me, and a perfectly sculpted dark brow shoots up, as if reminding me she can’t have what I’m having. “Water, please. I can get it myself.”

“Stay there. I’ve got it.” I reach into the fridge and grab a bottle. When I shut the door, she’s already standing on the other side of the refrigerator, examining the pictures hanging by magnets.

She’s so close, it would be easy to take her in my arms. The pull is there. And when Scarlet’s tongue darts out to wet her lips, I know I’m not the only one thinking this.

We were always good at physical.

That came easy.

Communication... not so much.

She takes a step back. “Wow. These are great. She looks like a happy little girl.”

My daughter’s smiling face covers the majority of the fridge.

Everything, from her baby pictures to the masterpieces she brings home from preschool, adorns the surface.

“She is. I’m a lucky man.” It’s a little crazy to think I’m going to have another baby.

“I’m not sure how she’s going to take it when I tell her she’s going to be a big sister though. She’s not the best at sharing.” I think about the conversation I had with my mother today. She was thrilled with the idea of another grandbaby. But not thrilled that Scarlet and I weren’t getting married and concerned about how Brynlee would take the news.

A question I’m not ready to get an answer to just yet.

“Have you thought about when you’re going to tell her?” Scarlet moves back to the island

“No. Not yet.” I pull the chicken scampi out of the warming drawer and hope she still likes chicken. “I think I’m going to wait until you’re a little further along. Maybe we could take her to one of the ultrasounds toward the end.” Okay, not a bad idea. That might actually work. Or at the very least, help get her excited.

“Do you think we could wait to decide when? I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet.” Scarlet’s face goes a little pale. “I’m still kinda wrapping my head around the fact I have a real human inside me. And that she’s moving and growing in there.”

When my smile grows, she laughs. “No dirty jokes, Saint. You know what I meant.”

I wasn’t going to make a joke. But I like where her mind went. “You hungry?”

She nods and walks over to the table I’d set for us earlier. “Is this as awkward for you as it is for me?”

Typical Scarlet. I don’t think she’s ever sugarcoated anything a day in her life. “What do you think we should do to make this less uncomfortable?” I pull her chair out and let her spicy vanilla scent wash over me. Flashes of our night together play out in my mind as my cock grows harder in my pants.

She places her napkin on her lap, and I discreetly adjust myself before taking my seat.

This woman has always had this effect on me.

“Well... how about we start with getting to know each other again, like you said. Tell me something about yourself I wouldn’t know.” She cocks her head to the side, her blue eyes boring into me. “Like why did you leave the marines? You told me you wanted to be a career marine before you graduated. I expected you to stay in for the next twenty years.”

I want to ask her if that’s why she broke things off or if there was another reason, but that would give her too much power in this balancing act of ours. I’m not ready to let her know that over a decade later, I still haven’t gotten over that or her. “Not into throwing softballs, are ya, Scar?”

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