Page 21 of Broken Daddy

Eva laughs as Chris’s smirk widens, and it only makes me grumpier. “Dad, can we go to the park later, maybe?” she asks sweetly, batting those eyelashes at me. It doesn’t actually work, but I agree anyway, feeling guilty for not spending more time with her.

“Before dinner, yes.”

Eva perks up, suddenly very worried about what time it is. “When’s dinner?”

“I’m not sure, you’ll have to ask.”

Chris frowns at my words and Eva launches off my lap, scurrying toward the kitchen. The music was turned off a while ago—when I barged in and ranted that if I have to hear Metallicaone more timethis week…

“I don’t want to see him.” I circle back to our previous conversation now that we’re alone again. “I’m serious, Chris. It’s great that you want to…connect,or whatever. But I have no interest in whatever Dad got up to once he left.”

Chris opens his mouth to argue, but Eva runs back into the room, her eyes lit up. “Dad! Look what Gen got!” She’s holding a giant container of fluff. That white marshmallowy sugary crap Julia never would’ve let our daughter have.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I make to stand again, but Gen steps into the room, grocery bags in both hands.

“Hi—oh, I’m sorry. Eva said you two were making plans and I just wanted to touch base. Dinner at six okay?” She smiles politely at Chris, her brown hair falling out of a loose bun. “Will we have company?”

“No,” I say quickly, before my brother can invite himself to dinner. I can already see the sly look on his face. “That’s alright Gen, thanks. Six is fine. Eva and I will be going out for a bit, but we’ll be back in time.”

She nods professionally and then disappears back down the hallway, Eva close on her heels.

When I turn around, Chris is staring at me with wide eyes and that characteristic smirk.

“Whowas that?”

“Our cook.” I sigh. “Personal chef. Whatever. I had to hire someone new and a friend needed some help—”

“So she’s just afriend,eh?”

I make a sour face at his insinuation but can feel my cheeks heating at the thought of just howfriendlyGen and I got yesterday in the pool. My skin tingles at the memory of her slick, wet body pressed against me, the way she moaned and dropped her head on my shoulder as I—

I cut the thought off and try to focus on the problem in front of me.

My brother.

“She’s actually Russ Walker’s little sister, so…”

I don’t mention that fact hasn’t stopped my desire for her or stopped either of us from tearing into each other.

Chris’s eyes narrow. “Interesting. You know, she looked at me first when she came into the room—and it wasn’t exactlyfriendly.”

Here’s the thing—being only fourteen months apart, Chris and I were close growing up.

He knows me well.

Too well.

“You know what they say, big brother. Don’t eat where you—”

“Alright.”

It comes out as a hiss. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, praying that Gen hasn’t heardanyof this conversation.

Chris looks baffled, then shocked.

“Wait…are you two actually…?”

He leans in, too, and we’re kids all over again, conspiring.

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