by Teagan Kade
I play along, winking back. “It’ll be our secret.”
“She’s looking a lot better.”
Phoenix has appeared beside me. I used to think he looked pretty good in his Crestfall get-up, but there’s still something extra sexy about a man who knows how to wear an apron.
I smile at the next in line. It extends out the door. In fact, ever since we opened we’ve been packed. “She is. Whatcha baking back there?”
“Chocolate souffles.”
“Advanced stuff. They going to look less like pancakes this time?”
He bumps me with his hip. “Ye of little faith.”
“Don’t you have class tonight?”
The two-hour round trip out to the culinary school is a bit of a bummer, but Phoenix has never been happier. I think I’ve put on a couple of pounds since he started., but he doesn’t seem to mind. He was awarded a distinction last week for a deconstructed paella. I had to admit it was impressive. You could have plated it up and served it in any hatted restaurant worldwide, no problem. He’s taken the same focus and dedication he used to pour into basketball and given this his all. I couldn’t be prouder, even if he is making me look like a bit of a cooking chump these days. I suppose the killer sex makes up for that. There’s something special about slapping a bare ass covered in flour.
I notice his attention has turned to the front of the soup kitchen, the double doors where the line’s snaking through. “Phoenix?” I ask.
And then I see what he sees—Stone and Alissa standing there like two fish out of water.
“You should go,” I tell him. “See what he has to say.”
The two haven’t spoken since that fateful day at Stone’s place, but I don’t imagine this visit is designed to antagonize. “Go on,” I encourage.
I call for help, one of the staff emerging from out back to take over.
Phoenix removes his apron, placing it on the counter and slowly making his way over to where Stone and Alissa are standing. They look like they’re jetting off to Milan the way they’re dressed.
I follow cautiously behind, but not too close. I don’t want to intrude on what’s clearly a family matter.
Which is why I’m extra surprised when Phoenix stops and waits for me, taking my hand and tugging me to his side as we come to a stop before the others. Alissa smiles at me, Stone focused solely on his son. He seems distant all of a sudden, hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat before he speaks. He looks around. “You did it.”
Phoenix pulls me closer. “We did it, Dad.”
Now Stone notices me, a token smile before returning his gaze to Phoenix. “Yes, I suppose you did. It’s not Crestfall, though.”
Alissa takes his arm, the lightest of nudges.
“If you came here to—” Phoenix starts.
Stone puts his hand up. “No. Wait.” He pulls in a deep breath, a momentary flicker of conflict before he carries on. “I came here to say perhaps I was too hasty. Perhaps, I could have been more supportive.”
If I wasn’t leaning against Phoenix I’m pretty sure I’d be on the floor following those words.
“I—” Stone begins, faltering. A look of encouragement from Alissa gets him going again. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’m proud of you, son, for sticking to your guns, for putting this together and seeing it through.”
Phoenix doesn’t let it show, but I know the impact hearing this will have. “I appreciate that,” he replies.
It must have been so hard for Stone to come out here, to slum it and admit fault, but I imagine Alissa had something to do with it.
“We’d like you both to come to brunch on Sunday with the rest of the family. Apparently Nolan has some news he’d like to share with everyone.”
“It would be wonderful to see you both,” Alissa adds. “And there’s no cooking required.”
“What do you say?” asks Stone, looking between us.
It’s Phoenix’s decision. He has to make the call.
“Sure,” he nods. “We’d like that.” He gestures behind himself to the kitchen. “Would you like to stay, have something to eat?”
But I’m pretty sure Stone King’s had his fill of the soup kitchen for today. “No, thank you,” he smiles. “Another time, perhaps. We should be going. Plane to catch and all.”
“So nice to see you both again,” says Alissa, as the two turn to leave.
“You too,” I reply.
I look to Phoenix when they’re gone. “I suppose that’s what they call a Christmas miracle.”
“It’s not Christmas.”
I turn us around, direct his attention at the serving line and everything we’ve managed to achieve together. “You sure about that?”
His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, makes my skin tingle at his touch. He looks back to where his father just passed through the doors. “Even ol’ Ebenezer Scrooge seems to be softening up.”
I turn my back to the line and press up against him, my hand finding his cock. “Unlike something else I know.”
He takes me by the hips. “Careful now. We wouldn’t want to scare away the clientele.”
I shift my hand to his chest. “I’m proud of you, the way you handled that. It was very low key, very cool.”
“That’s me,” he smiles. “Mr. Cool.”
“Get a room, you two!”
It’s Knobby waving his fist in the air from the line. He was our first customer, matter of fact.
“Yeah, yeah,” Phoenix laughs. He knows everyone by name now, has more than one secret admirer. Pretty soon I’m going to need to keep a stick behind the counter to fight them off.
I bring both hands up to his chest, sliding them into the center where I can feel his heartbeat firm and steady, my rock. “I know you were afraid you’d never be able to reconcile with your dad, especially after you dropped out of college, but see? Everything improves with time.”
He pushes himself away. “Oh, shit, the souffles!”
He dashes off to the back of the kitchen.
I find him pulling them out of the oven. They’re perfect, of course.
I lean against the counter. “You’re lucky.”
He places the trays down to cool, examining each souffle.
“You did forget one ingredient, though,” I muse.
He looks up in surprise. “I did?”
I slink my way over to the pantry, stopping in the doorway and popping the first button on my jeans, pressing them down until my bare ass is showing. “Yeah, I think you left it right in here. Why don’t you come and help me look?”
“Yes, sir, boss lady,” he smiles, already loosening his belt.
There, in the darkness of the pantry, his mouth on mine and his hand working its way into the crotch of my panties, I wonder how this could get any better. I know he’s yet to reveal the depth of his emotional reaction to the resolution with his father, but he will… in time. For now, all that need exist is us—our bodies, our passion, the connection that once seemed so impossible made real.
EPILOGUE
PHOENIX
THREE YEARS LATER
Heather cuts the ribbon and it’s done—the second soup kitchen location is open for business ready to serve a new part of the town.
The mayor’s standing there with a big, stupid grin on his face acting like he never tried to legislate the homeless out of existence. He copped some serious heat after Alissa got the media stirred up, was almost undone until he came to us looking to negotiate, and negotiate we did.
It’s been a long and tough road, too many nights for the both of us spent collapsed on the kitchen table, but it’s paid off. I’m cynical about it all, of course, especially the mayor’s part, but I’m glad our efforts have forced the Powers That Be to back down.
Heather invites me over for the photos, a cheeky squeeze of my ass when the cameras start firing.
“You’re going to pay for that later, Mrs. King,” I whisper, continuing to smile for the crowd.
“Ju
st as long as we don’t wake the baby again.”
Maya, Titus’s wife, cuts through the throng with our three-month-old, Aiden, in arms. She passes him to Heather. “May as well make it a family photo.”
Amelie, Titus and Maya’s two-year-old, tugs at Maya’s skirt. “Can I hold the baby, Mommy?”
“We’ll let Aunty Heather hold him for now, hey?” she replies.
I take my baby boy all swaddled up and still cannot believe we produced this. The decision to have a baby was made on the fly, has been the subject of much missed sleep later, but I wouldn’t trade him for world. Every time he looks up to me with those trademark King baby blues I turn into a fluffy ol’ souffle all over again.
Heather says being a father suits me, but she doesn’t realize the impact motherhood has had on her. It’s cliché, but she glows. There might be rings under those eyes I can never get enough of, but I also see a newfound energy in her. It overflows into every area of our lives—pure sunshine.
It’s god damn infectious.
The mayor makes a quick getaway, the media following suit shortly after.
Titus approaches me, pinching Aiden’s cheek. “Poor kid.”
“Hey,” I tell him, “at least I won’t have to fend off future boyfriends.”
Titus raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
The thought over a second kid almost puts me to sleep on the spot.
I look over at Amelie following Maya ’round like a little shadow. “She’s a cutie,” I say.
Titus laughs. “You talking about my wife or my daughter?”
Even though I’m holding Aiden I still manage to give him a light kick in the ass. “I’m more than happy with my lot, thank you very much.”
Titus slides his hands into his pockets. “So I can see, and you’re graduating from that cooking school next week, right?”
I nod. “With honors.”
“Well, you’re welcome to come cook at our place.” He leans in close. “Let’s just say neither of us would know the first thing to do with an eggplant.”
“You sure about that?” I tease, managing to dodge the ass-kicking that follows.
“Hey,” I tell him, holding up Aiden, “baby on board, bro.”
Two hands fall on my shoulders, Heather placing her chin on my shoulder and smiling down at Aiden. “And what mischief are you three up to, huh?”
Titus paints on that look of innocence he’s been able to conjure since he was a kid. “Mischief? Us? Never.”
“Right,” Heather smiles.
Nolan joins us, has had quite the adventure of his own lately, though that’s a story for another time. Even Peyton managed to get away from his gig in New York to be here. It’s hard to imagine what he went through all those years ago. It seems like forever ago now.
Dad approaches with Alissa in tow. “You got time for a word, son?”
I pass Aiden to Heather. “Sure.”
I head with Dad to a shaded spot by the entrance of the soup kitchen away from the others. My father undoes the top button of his suit, looking to where the entire family is gathered. “Quite a sight, isn’t it? Family’s like music, you know—some high notes, some low notes, but always a beautiful song. Have I ever told you that one before?”
“You told me, ‘Winners never quit, and quitters never win.’”
He laughs. “Perhaps I did, but I’d like to think I’ve relaxed a bit in my old age.” I nod to his belly. “Too many of my pain au chocolats, probably.”
“Probably,” he muses, reaching into his jacket pocket and handing me a slip of paper. “Here. You said you wanted to open a restaurant, right?”
It’s a check, the sum listed rather substantial.
“Dad, I can’t… This is too much.”
He takes my shoulder and looks me in the eye. I see myself in them, all of my brothers, that steely look of determination that has made us Kings—and broken us at times. “You and Heather have done a lot for this town. Let me do something for you. Allow me that.”
He lets go of my shoulder and takes another check out of his pocket, handing it over. “And this one’s for Jackson County. Headed through there the other day and thought they could do with a soup kitchen too.”
I have to laugh. “You really are getting soft.”
I know there’s no use arguing with him. In fact, he’d consider it offensive to refuse, so I take the checks happily knowing they’re going to a good cause, that it’s yet another endorsement of the decisions I’ve made and my father’s acceptance, finally, that I’m my own man.
Heather’s waving me over, a beaming Gordy standing there like the proud grandfather we want him to be.
“Duty calls,” I tell Dad.
He smiles back. “That it does, son. That it does.”
HEATHER
“See you tomorrow. Great job today.”
I send the last of the staff out the front door and lock it, drawing the blinds in the windows and moving around the main dining area looking for anything out of place.
I can hear Phoenix down the back of the kitchen finishing off the last of the dishwashing. I told him we had people who could handle it, that he should enjoy this moment, but he was adamant about pitching in.
I spot something under a table and pick it up, turning it over in my hand. It’s a flyer for Crestfall Sports Academy. ‘Are you an elite athlete?’ it reads. ‘Register your interest now.’
I give a short yelp when Phoenix whips at my butt with a dishtowel from behind.
I spin around. “If you’re looking for an ass-kicking, mister…”
He drops the dishtowel and raises his hands. “Please, Your Honor, it wasn’t me.” He notices the flyer. “What do you have there?”
“Someone left a flyer for the academy behind.” I turn it over again. “Do you miss it?”
He throws the dishtowel over his shoulder and stands beside me, taking the flyer and placing it on a nearby table. His hands snake around my waist. “Do you mean, did I make the right decision?”
“You could have been a star, one of the best. Everyone used to say so.”
“For sure.”
I give him a light slap on the chest. “Still no modesty.”
“I could have been the best,” he continues, “but I would have been unhappy, resentful. That’s not the life I chose and if I had to make that decision all over again, to move in with you and build everything from scratch, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
I have to swallow to hold back the tears. Maybe it’s just that it’s been a long day or the residual hormones of pregnancy getting to me, but I don’t know how I came to be this lucky.
I take his face and pull him to me, kiss him long and deep and savor everything about it, breaking away with the taste of him on my lower lip. I reach between us and find his cock, use the butt of my palm to rub it through his jeans. “It’s been way more than six weeks, you know.”
“Is that what the doctor said?”
I make my voice low. “Uh-huh, and I am rather horny after all this excitement.”
His hands fall to my ass. He lifts me and places me on the edge of a table, hands running under my skirt, my bra popping upwards so his hands are filled with my breasts.
His fingers find my nipples, lightly squeezing them until they’re firm and proud, blood pulled from all extremities to pool at my core. “What about Aiden?”
“I convinced Peyton and Erin to take him for the night.”
“You what?”
“I told Peyton he’s just like a football—a really cute sleeping, pooping football with arms and legs and a little button nose.”
“You think those two are trying?” Phoenix asks.
“I think you better take off my pants and show me what I’ve been missing.”
He smiles. “Yes, ma’am,” he says, hands falling and stripping my jeans away, my panties bundled up inside and my sex hungry for his hardness.
He falls to his knees in front of me, separates my thighs and seems sud
denly mesmerized by my vagina. “Oh, how I’ve missed you,” he smiles, practically licking his lips with anticipation.
I reach down and spread myself, know I’m insanely wet already. “It’s probably not quite like you remember,” I warn him. “The doctor said…”
Phoenix reaches up and places a finger to my lips. “Fuck what the doctor said. It’s beautiful and I’m going in.”
I don’t get time to reply before his mouth is on me, his tongue inside me, moving and lapping and shifting and turning me into a puddle.
I close my eyes and there, before my orgasm, everything passes by in a hazy blur—meeting Phoenix in the dining hall at Crestfall, that cheeky King pull, the mugging, the arrest, the auction… And through it all he was there, supporting me, pushing himself to be better, loving me for who I am and not giving a flying fuck what anyone else thought.
That’s the man I married.
That’s the father of our child.
Because I might have come from the wrong side of the tracks, but I’ve finally found my happy place.
I finally found where I belong.
###
Thanks for reading, guys. If you enjoyed the book, please leave a short review.
Join my newsletter for a free ebook, giveaways, and more: https://bit.ly/2UpkndO
Follow me on Facebook: https://bit.ly/3803WIY
Ready for more bad boy action? Read Cayden’s story in Top 50 best-seller Long Game, out now: http://mybook.to/longgame
I go long, I go deep, but I never go soft.
They call me ‘The Damage’ because I crush it on the field and off.
I’m all about the offensive penetration. No one knows the game as well as I do.
It doesn’t hurt I’ve got a goal post in my pants.
But the moment I see Indiana’s smoky eyes and tight end, I know I’m in trouble.
No one has a college record that clean, which means she’s either hiding something or running from something, and I intend to get the bottom of all her dirty little secrets.
Even if I have to tease it out of those sweet curves.
Even if she’s playing hard to get.
Because I can go the distance.
Because I always score.