Page 46 of Wicked Little Secret

I’m a strong, independent woman—I don’t need help; I can handle this.

But damn, it was nice not having to all the time.

****

Maverick

He set his alarm to go off every three hours. Since little Sawyer was more than happy to sleep, they had to wake him so Olivia could nurse. Fortunately, after eating and getting changed, he immediately fell back to sleep, content and happy.

When his alarm went off at three a.m., she looked over at him, her hair mussed and circles under her eyes.

“You don’t have to get up, too. There’s no point in both of us being sleep deprived.”

“I’m here to help you, darlin’. Of course I’m going to get up with you.”

He did, however, doze off once he’d put the baby in her arms. Feeling the mattress shift woke him, and he slowly sat up.

“I’ve got him,” he protested when he saw her walking toward the bassinet.

“It’s fine—I need to use the bathroom, anyway. Go back to sleep.”

Maverick didn’t completely relax until he felt the bed dip with her weight next to him.

When the alarm chimed at six, he realized his hand was on her hip, and her ass was nestled against his morning wood.

It wasn’t like he was mad about it. Although, he realized she might be, so he quickly rolled away to shut off the alarm and get out of bed.

He went into the bathroom to pee, then splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth before picking up his son and gently shaking Olivia’s shoulders to rouse her from her slumber.

She had to be exhausted. Hell, he was tired, and he wasn’t even doing that much. He decided she wasn’t going anywhere for at least a few more days—she needed her rest. She could order new clothes and have them delivered. Although, he didn’t even want her getting out of her pajamas today.

In the meantime, he’d wash what she did have, then lie back down for another hour before making her breakfast.

That had been the plan, anyway.

Chapter Seventeen

Maverick

He dreamt that he was a young boy, sitting at his mother’s kitchen table while she stood at the stove making a big breakfast. After he ate bacon and eggs, he morphed into a dragon and flew off to find Sawyer and Olivia so they could have breakfast, too.

The smell of bacon pulled him from his slumber. Once he placed the smell, he reached over to Olivia’s side of the bed and found it empty, and the sheets cool to the touch.

Been there, done that.

Only judging by the smells wafting into his room, she hadn’t gone far this time.

He scrubbed his hand along his chin and groaned when he remembered he was supposed to be the one cooking her breakfast. Glancing at the clock, he sat up with a start. It was half past nine. Why hadn’t his alarm gone off?

Making his way to the kitchen, he stopped short when he observed the scene from the doorway.

There she was in his boxers and t-shirt, with her black hair piled high on her head, holding a spatula like a microphone while singing acapella the Ronette’s “Be My Baby” to Sawyer, who was wide awake, sitting in his car seat on the kitchen island.

She pirouetted to the frying pan on the stove and pushed the contents around, then shimmied back and continued her serenade.

Maverick leaned against the doorjamb and watched silently with a big smile on his face. He could get used to mornings like this.

She screamed when she noticed him, dropping the spatula in the process.

---