Full House (Stacked Deck Book 4)

by Emilia Finn

  He finally enters the room with this swagger I’ve never noticed before. Maybe it’s a first thing in the morning thing, or maybe it’s a post-coital thing, but his hips move a little more. His arms swing.

  He stops in front of Lyss, lowers a little so they’re on the same level. “Babe, Miss Brooke… she, uh… she slept over last night. Is that okay?”

  She bobs her head, and continues to sip that juice like she knows it’s blood money. “I already told Miss Brooke it’s okay. And that maybe she could have dinner with us some more. Because I had a good time, and then this morning she gave me juice.”

  The girl is nervous, like she thinks he’s going to swipe that precious juice.

  “You’re okay with it?” he questions. “I’m sorry Daddy didn’t ask first.”

  “It’s okay.” She shrugs and flashes a grin at the living room window. Or more accurately, the boy that lives just across the street. “Can Charlie have a sleepover soon?”

  “No.”

  So fucking cold. So cutting and non-negotiable.

  Miles’ word pushes me from small giggles to near hysteria. I throw my head back on a howl, and laugh until I cry. Tears track over my cheeks, they blur my vision, and when I manage to slow them, I look to Miles and Lyss, who watch me, and start again. “She means a kiddie sleepover, grump!”

  “Yeah? And I mean no when I say it.” He looks to Lyss. “No sleep bras. No sleepovers. Let’s pretend they’re on your allergy list.”

  “Allergic to boys.” I drop the last of the strawberries into a bowl for Lyss and slide it across the counter with a laugh. “Let’s see how big-bad-Bobby Kincaid handles this same conversation when I go home. I wonder if I’m allergic too?” I bring a finger to my lip. My ‘thinking pose’. “I mean, everyone knows that I’ve…” I tilt my head. “Had sleepovers before. But I was usually much more discreet about it.”

  “Am I dead?” Miles turns to me. No longer the post-sex badass, but a scared boy. “Dammit, Brooklyn, give me twenty to get Lyss into the car and out the gates.”

  “Not dead. You should come to breakfast!” The idea hits me like a freight train. Probably a train filled to the brim with TNT explosives, but still. Who cares? “Bring your bowl of fruit, Lyss. You’re already dressed, so give me a second to change, then we can go.”

  “Brooke,” Miles growls. “Are you insane?”

  “I wear my jammies outside sometimes, Miss Brooke. It’s okay if you wear yours.”

  “Ha!” I dry my hands on a towel and shake my head. “Not today, baby. It would be unsafe. Just give me a second, then we can go. Twain will be waiting for you.” I exit the kitchen while Lyss eats a slice of banana, and sprint straight for the stairs.

  “Brooklyn!” Miles storms into the foyer behind me. “We are not rocking up to your house this morning. No way!”

  On a whim, I spin on the steps, sprint straight back down, and launch myself into his arms when I’m close enough not to break my neck.

  He catches me, braces for the impact when we slam together, and holds my ass in secure hands while I drop a kiss to his cheek. His nose. His forehead. Finally, his lips.

  “Good morning.”

  “I can’t come with you to breakfast, Brooke. I’d like to live.”

  “They won’t hurt you. I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman, and everyone knows that adults have sex.”

  “That may be true,” he groans, “but does Bobby Kincaid’s daughter often have sex? With dads? You’re fixing to take us home for breakfast, and in your head, that’s all it is. A meal. Friendly. But what it actually looks like is an insta-family. Bobby is going to snap into protective mode, he’ll assume I’ve tricked you into something, and—”

  “And what? Found a woman you like and trust enough to introduce to your daughter? Found a woman that you like to spend time with in hopes that it grows to be something more? What, Miles? What negative is he going to find in this?”

  “You are twenty years old! And now you’re talking about bringing a six-year-old home. That means you were fourteen when she was conceived. They’re gonna knock me the fuck out when they do the math.”

  “They’ve already done the math, dummy.” I press a kiss to his forehead. “They know we’ve been hanging. They know we went out on a date. And guess what? They know I didn’t come home last night. They’ve done the math, so whether you punk out of breakfast or not, the damage is done.”

  “See! You call it damage. You’re lying to yourself if you think this will go well.”

  “Did you know that when my mom met my dad, she was twenty-three…” I pause. Think. “Maybe twenty-four. And my dad was twenty-six. Guess what?”

  He rolls his eyes. “What?”

  “She came with a teenage kid. My Uncle Jack was fifteen, he had a bad attitude and too much time on his hands. He and my mom were a package deal, since their parents were both already dead. That means Daddy was eleven when my uncle was born.”

  “You’re reaching,” he huffs. “That’s clearly not the same thing.”

  I shrug, and smack one more kiss to his lips. I force his apart, seduce him with my tongue, and pull back with a smile. “Good morning, by the way. I had a good time last night.”

  He’s putting on the tough guy act, but his dick grows anyway. It presses against my core and tempts me to ask him upstairs while Lyss eats her fruit. But I’m being responsible. If I’m going to come even close to being worthy of the ‘M’-word, then risking her choking on apple that I cut while her dad and I have sex just isn’t a good way to start.

  “I panicked,” he admits on a groaned whisper. “When I woke up and you weren’t in bed, I thought you snuck out.”

  “I had a dream.” I press a softer, gentler kiss to his lips. “Another story level was unlocked for me, so I had to write it down or risk losing it. I rushed around to find my phone, which, in the end, was in the car.”

  “Hence your bra?”

  I grin, but that turns to a moan when he reaches up and squeezes. “Exactly. But it’s the same as a bikini at the pool, right? So I figured it wasn’t a huge deal.”

  “It’s not…” He frowns. “I guess. Was she upset?”

  I shake my head. “She came down while I was writing. She was a little surprised at first, then inquisitive. Then she was mostly focused on Twain, juice, and boobie cuddles.”

  His brows furrow. “Boobie cuddles?”

  “Mm. Like the kind my mom gives where I lay my head on her boobs. They’re the best kind, I swear.”

  “I…” He grins. “I’ll have to try it sometime.”

  “With my mom? Miles Walker!”

  “With you,” he laughs. “Jesus, don’t be such a freak.”

  “Come to breakfast.” I place a kiss on his lips. A second. A third, and add tongue. “They already know, so stand up, be a man, and face it. They’ll respect you for it.”

  “Will they challenge me to fight? Because maybe they’re retired now, but I can’t let my baby see her daddy get his ass whooped.”

  “They will not fight you,” I laugh. “Except maybe Bry. But it would be one-on-one, and you’re already so good at that.”

  “Not helpful.” He flattens his lips. “Dammit, Brooklyn. I came here to find a quiet, happy life for me and Lyss.”

  “Is that not what you’ve found?” I nibble on my bottom lip purely to distract him. “Invite me into that life. There’s enough room for me, right?”

  “Your logic and quiet reasoning annoy me. You’re fucking with my heart, Brooklyn. You’re in my house in a bra and no panties.” His eyes meet mine, serious, dangerous, “I know you’re not wearing panties, because I saw them upstairs. You slept over all night, made my daughter breakfast, and now you’re in my arms in my house, and I’m not panicking about how to tell Lyss that I caught feelings for you.”

  Smiling, I lean in closer and slide my lips over his. Earlier was about teasing, then seducing. Now it’s about reciprocating.

  “I caught feelings for you too, but I think
we both already knew that.” Another slide of my tongue. “You and Lyss moved to town, you moved your things into your house while I sat in my treehouse and watched. And for every giggle you stole from your daughter, you stole a piece of my heart. That’s how I know everything is going to be okay. Because Kincaids know, we know who’s right for us, and I already told my family you’re that person for me.”

  “You did?” His eyes flicker between mine. “For real?”

  I snicker, and slide my hands into his hair. “You sound like Lyss now. And yes, for real. My family know what’s up, they’ve already run you through the gauntlet. You’ve already taken any beating they were gonna throw at you.”

  “Your dad asked to spar last week.”

  I laugh. “Exactly. The worst has passed. So now… you get to come to breakfast. Come with me, Miles? Spend the morning with my family.”

  “If I die… you should know about my Pokémon collection under the bed. It’s worth at least two hundred dollars. I already have a buyer interested. Cash those puppies in and set my girl up with a comfortable future.”

  I throw my head back on a laugh that forces him to strain his muscles or drop me.

  Coming back, I slam a kiss to his lips, and swallow down his grunted breath. “You have my word. I won’t pilfer your Pokémons. Let’s go.”

  Miles

  Ah, Shit

  Brooke does the walk of shame through her own estate. Same dress as last night, same shoes, same panties. But she does it with her head held high, a smile stretching across her beautiful face.

  And my daughter’s hand held tightly in hers.

  We move up her porch steps, slow at the front door, then she turns back to me and grins.

  If this was the other way around, if she was scared and meeting my family after a night of filthy sex, I would take care of her. I’d make sure she was comfortable and safe.

  But she… doesn’t give a fuck about me as she pushes the front door open and reveals noises that would rival those at the city zoo. Shouting, screeching, running around, and, as we move through the living room, twin teen boys slamming each other to the floor in what may be a to-the-death fight over the last pancake.

  “Hey, Twain!” Brooke’s smile grows as soon as her giant dog weaves through the noise and butts his nose against the girls. First Brooke, then Lyss, as she tries her hardest not to spill the bowl of fruit she brought.

  “Hey, buddy. Did you have a good sleep?” Brooke hugs Twain, kisses his wet nose, and giggles when he kisses her back. “Hey. I missed you too. Where’s Mom? Twain, where’s Mom?”

  “Kitchen!” the woman herself calls out.

  My heart spikes. It slams against my diaphragm. And my stomach drops low enough to make me worry about what might happen if the guys goad me into sparring.

  “Come on.” Brooke takes my hand now, twines her fingers in mine, and brings me toward the kitchen. “It’s not as scary as it seems.”

  We enter the room – it’s way scarier than it seemed.

  “Hey, Mommy.” She releases my hand, and crosses the room to be absorbed by her mom’s arms and a long hug that makes them both sigh. “Sorry I didn’t call.”

  “It’s okay.” Kit pulls back, but only to hold onto Brooke’s hands and study her eyes. “We knew you were on the estate. We knew you were safe.”

  Finally, Kit’s eyes come to mine. The bright blue orbs, just like her daughter’s, scan me from my head to my shoes, then back up again. “Iowa. Good morning.”

  “Morning, Mrs. Kincaid.” I cough to clear my throat. “Uh… maybe we could be discreet. For Lyss.”

  Finally, Kit flashes a wide grin and shakes her head as she looks away from me. “Alyssa! You look beautiful this morning. That fruit looks amazing. Do you wanna sit at the counter with Aunt Tink?”

  Lyss looks to Tink. Bobs her head with enthusiasm. And before I can help, Brooke swoops in and lifts her to the stool beside her aunt. She drops a kiss on the top of my baby’s head, closes her eyes for a moment like sniffing her hair makes her happy, then she steps into Tink’s offered arms, since they seem to enjoy hugging.

  “Have a good evening, Brookey?”

  “I did. I had an amazing night.”

  “Miss Brooke made my fruit.” Lyss sets her bowl on the counter and begins picking. “She even put the strawberries in. Those are my favorite.”

  “I love strawberries.” Tink releases Brooke, only to slide her fingers through Lyss’ hair and tuck it back over her ear. “And you have pretties in your hair. They’re beautiful.”

  “Miss Brooke brushed my hair too! She was so gentle. Way gentler than Daddy.”

  Kit’s eyes snap to mine. Then her lips quirk up and do weird things to my stomach. Her daughter is her almost copy.

  As Brooke moves around the kitchen now, unafraid of being Hulk-slammed to the floor just as soon as a male Kincaid walks in, she heads to the coffee pot and begins filling two mugs.

  “I bet that’s because Miss Brooke knows how much hair hurts,” Kit says. “She’s very gentle. Come in, Miles. Come sit with us and eat.”

  “Is… uh…” I look around. “Bobby around?”

  “Bobby isn’t who you should fear,” Tink says in a low, terrifying tone. “You’re already in the lion’s den, handsome. Suck it up and eat when we tell you to eat.”

  Brooke laughs and brings the mugs to me. She offers one, and because she’s not done plotting my murder, she steps onto her toes and presses a kiss to my jaw. “Relax. It’s gonna be okay.” She slides her free hand around my back, plasters herself to my side, and snuggles in to sip her coffee.

  “Oh my gosh!” Lyss explodes for absolutely no fucking reason at all. She turns to Tink, then to Kit. “Did you hear that I got to eat pie last night?”

  “No way!” Kit exclaims.

  “Yep! The lady at the diner made apple pie for me. And it was delicious.”

  “It was her first time eating pie,” Brooke inserts. “Ever.”

  “No way,” Kit exclaims, but lower, more serious. “First time ever? Honey, that’s a crime.”

  “Allergies make it hard,” Lyss says in her grownup voice, “but the diner made me a special pie so that I wouldn’t get sick. And guess what?”

  “What?” Kit’s energy is infectious. She exclaims at the right moments. Smiles. Pays complete attention to my daughter.

  “I ate the pie, and I didn’t have to do a poo!”

  “Oh, well!” Laughing, Kit reaches out and high-fives Lyss. “That’s freakin’ awesome! There’s nothing worse than getting a tummy ache after yummy food.”

  “Uh huh.” Lyss tosses a banana slice into her mouth. “I know. It’s the worst. Miss Brooke, can Twain have banana?”

  “He can, baby. But don’t waste your breakfast.” She pulls away from me and drops her coffee on the counter as she passes out of the room. “I’ll feed him his own now. Come on, Twain. Come here, bud.”

  Twain sits instead, slaps his ass to the floor, and smiles for Lyss until she hands over that coveted slice of banana. Then he takes off with a skid to follow his owner’s orders.

  “So…” Tink looks from me to Kit. Back and forth. “Elephant in the room, or…?”

  “Stop it.” Kit slaps Tink with a hand towel, smiles for Lyss when she giggles, then looks to me. “You’ll treat my daughter right, won’t you, Miles?” She looks to Lyss, then back to me. “You have a daughter. So for every interaction you have with mine, every time you tell a joke, or every time you speak to her, especially if you’ve had a bad day, I’d like you to think about how you’d feel if a man spoke to your daughter that way.” She grins. “If you’d approve, then we’re good. I firmly believe in having happy children. How ever that happens. So if my daughter happens to fall in love with a man that has a daughter…” She shrugs. Winks for Lyss. “Well… I will only say welcome to the family.”

  Love.

  She said ‘love,’ just like that, for everyone to hear.

  “Speak of the devil.” She turns to the
door when Bry wanders in in shorts and a tank.

  His hair is a little messy, his eyes droopy and heavy. But before you notice those things, you notice that one of them is bruised black. His jaw is grazed. His knuckles scabbed.

  And as he wanders in, his droopy eyes lock onto mine. They narrow. Then they flick to Lyss and set my back straight.

  “Bryan.” I snarl. “Don’t do it.”

  His eyes flick to me. He’s angry. He’s fuckin’ pissed, and he’s ready to take it out on me. “What? I didn’t do anything.”

  “You can look at me, give me the eyes, we can step outside and discuss what’s in your head right now, but I’m gonna ask you once to watch yourself when you look at my baby. After that, there’s gonna be trouble.”

  “Because I looked at your daughter?” He says ‘your daughter’ like it’s a dirty thing. “Really? We have beef because I looked at her?”

  “We’ll have beef because you’re angry about me and Brooke, and you don’t shield my daughter from that emotion.”

  “Ah, no…” He steps forward. Closer to Lyss. Taunting me. “She was shielded, because she’s paying complete attention to a bowl of fruit right now. You were the one that brought attention to this.”

  He steps closer again. Close enough to grab her. Close enough to hurt her.

  “And I wasn’t looking at her with the anger I feel when I look at you. Man, I’m still waking up, I walk into my kitchen and find a little girl sitting at the counter. I was wondering where the hell she came from.”

  Then because he wants to make me snap, he closes the distance between them and presses a kiss to the top of her head. It’s heavy, noisy, and makes a point. “But since my sister seems inclined to like you, that makes this pretty princess my family now.” He pulls back from Lyss, smiles for her when she spins, and winks when her eyes light up. “Welcome to the family, baby girl. You can call me Uncle Bry.”

  “Jesus.” Tink presses a hand to her heart. “I thought we were gonna rumble. I was trying to remember where we left the taser.” She looks to Kit and cackles. “Remember that Christmas?”