Page 7 of Four Stepbrothers for Christmas

Isaac seconded it. "Vinnie's right. Off limits, guys." However, I could sense that he was a little disappointed by the idea of not flirting with Becca, even a little.

Archer, as if drawn by a magnet, started wandering toward the kitchen. "Sure, sure," he said, "but someone's got to make sure she's settling in okay."

Luke suddenly stood up, eyeing his twin. "Well, if we're going that way, I need more scotch."

As they sauntered off, no doubt finding an excuse to be in close proximity to our delectable new chef, I turned to Isaac. "You think bringing her here might've been a bad idea?"

Isaac took a sip of his Bailey's-infused coffee, shrugging his broad shoulders. "We're all adults, Vinnie. We have the ability to control our libidos."

I let out a laugh, unable to keep a straight face. "Oh, come on, Mr. Self-Control. I saw you staring at her ass just as much as Luke was."

Isaac raised an eyebrow, clearly caught. But he maintained that steady, unflappable demeanor that had served him well in board meetings and negotiations. "Observing and acting are two different things," he retorted, taking a slow sip.

"Observing, huh? Is that what we're calling it these days?"

He chuckled, setting his mug down on the table beside him. "Look, Vin, she's a professional, we're professionals. We hired her to cook, not to become the center of some romantic drama."

I nodded, partly convinced. "Alright, but if Archer starts trying to impress her by dismantling kitchen appliances, or Luke offers to be her taste-tester, we're intervening."

Isaac smiled, the kind of smile that was all knowing and a bit ominous. "Agreed. But for now, let's give everyone the benefit of the doubt."

Easy for him to say, but as the buffer between his gruffer personality and our clients, I could definitely foresee potential complications. Isaac might have trusted us to be adults, but history had shown that adulting was not exactly our strong suit when a beautiful woman was involved.

"Okay, the woman is a looker. No doubt about that. But we manage to control ourselves in a professional setting at work; we can do the same here."

"I don't know," I reply, my tone laced with pragmatic caution. "Vacation is basically the Bermuda Triangle of good decisions. It's where rules go to die."

Isaac didn't say anything to that, but the sudden peal of Becca's laughter from the kitchen acted like a siren's call. As if on cue, we both veered toward the kitchen, our steps syncing up like soldiers marching to a different kind of battle.

When we walked in, Luke and Archer were sitting at the kitchen island, their gazes fixed on Becca as if she was the eighth wonder of the world. She was busy arranging the groceries in the cupboards, giving out orders like a seasoned general.

"No, no, don't help me. I like things where I like them," she said, flashing them a smile somehow both firm and inviting.

My eyes followed her as she moved around the kitchen, and my cock stiffened when she stretched to reach a higher shelf. Her shirt lifted just a bit, exposing a tantalizing slice of skin. I found myself agreeing with Luke's earlier appraisal. That ass in those jeans? God help us all.

I snapped back to reality, locking eyes with Isaac for a moment. We shared a knowing look, a silent agreement being made. Yes, she was attractive—distractingly so—but we were here for a break, not to complicate our lives. Easier said than done, of course, especially when the woman in question seemed capable of breaking down more than just culinary barriers.

Archer rose gracefully from his seat, gesturing toward the glass of meticulously chosen wine he'd been nursing. "You sure you don't want some? It's a good year."

"I don't drink while I'm cooking," she said, punctuating her refusal with a smile. "Only after. Will you guys be ready for dinner in about an hour?"

We all nodded in agreement.

She continued, laying out her culinary schedule with the authority of a five-star general. "I've got breakfast covered by seven, but if any of you want to sleep in, it'll be kept warm. Lunch is at 12:30 sharp. Dinner is a seven pm affair unless you've got different plans."

Her precision caught me off guard, and I couldn't help but voice my appreciation. “Works great for me – nice and regimented.”

She grinned, taking the compliment in stride. "Someone's got to keep you guys in line."

"Speaking of which, how about a snack? I could eat a horse," I quipped, throwing a playful glance her way.

She rolled her eyes but laughed, "Oh my God, you're like a five-year-old. Sit tight."

In what felt like mere seconds, an array of cheeses, meats, and crackers took form on a cutting board. Not only did it look delicious, it looked like art. Everything was arranged perfectly. Jesus, she was like a culinary ninja.

Isaac, our ever-responsible leader, nudged us toward the door. "Let's move this to the living room. Give Chef the space she needs to work her magic."

Her eyes twinkled as she waved us away. "You heard the man. Get outta my kitchen."

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