“Yessir.” She gives me a sassy salute that earns her another light pinch of her chin. I ask her some questions about her grams. It’s obvious how much Reese loved that old woman, and I’m sorry I didn’t get to know her. Reese had a thousand and one questions about the Justices and the recent spate of marriages and babies. I told her about the Justice curse and how every woman a Justice man has loved hasn’t lived past the age of thirty. My oldest cousins, Tucker and Calder, believed in that curse with their whole beings, and to be honest, I guess a tiny part of me bought into it too. Calder fell hard for Birdie Rodgers, a socialite and designer out of Dallas. When she came to the ranch, there were all these small accidents that put her life in danger, and Calder, out of fear, tried to stay away. But how can you when there’s love involved? As for Tucker, he’s sort of a recluse. He only comes to the main house for meals and most of the time lives in a big house at the very south end of the property. His wife, Cameron Dallas-Hyde, knows more people and has shaken more hands than the president. Those two shouldn’t work, but they do. Cam gets all the socialization she needs with parties at the ranch. Sometimes the two slip away to a home Cam has in Lake Como. I guess the social scene there is more relaxed. Tucker says it’s just hours of eating and drinking, which is even something he doesn’t mind enduring. Plus, the scenery is great. She already knows about Astor and Cane, so I skip them. My baby cousin, who just turned twenty this past year, married a real live princess. Like at some point when Maria’s daddy kicks the bucket, Sterling will be her prince consort or something like that. I don’t know all the rules and regulations about how that works, but apparently there are crowns and thrones even.
Reese’s eyes grow big as I share this. “I’ve never been in contact with real royalty,” she says.
“Me neither.” I scrape the last bit of syrup off my plate with a hunk of waffle. “They’re the same as you and me. Her daddy lives at the ranch about half the year because the dry, hot climate is good for his lungs. He smokes cigars when Maria isn’t watching and plays a mean hand of gin, and knows more curse words than a ranch hand.”
“Sounds like he fits right in.”
“He does.” I gather up the dishes, tuck the dirties into the dishwasher, and clean up the pots and pans. Reese wipes everything down. Once the kitchen is back to its original pristine condition, I clap my hands together. “I think I’ve stalled long enough, don’t you? Why don’t you run and get that look book now?”
CHAPTER 16
REESE
“T hese are damn good,” Blake says as he pages through my look book.
“The designs or my cinnamon rolls?” I smirk. I’m sitting in his lap. He pulled me onto it earlier to give me a kiss, and I stayed. We’re back in the kitchen, at the little table.
“Both.” Blake gives me a smoldering look. He snags my wrist, pulling my hand towards his mouth to lick the icing off my thumb that I was just about to lick myself.
“Rude.” I scoff as he sucks it into his mouth. Then his tongue circles my thumb. “Blake,” I whisper, pressing my thighs together. His hard cock jerks against my ass. It’s easy to feel through the thin yoga pants I slipped into earlier.
After he made me come more than once with his mouth, he pulled me off the bed and back into the kitchen to eat and show him my look books. I was more than ready and willing to return the favor, but he never pushed or mentioned taking care of him. It was oddly sweet that he wasn’t looking for something in return. He can be such a Neanderthal at times but also a gentleman too. To be honest, I love both sides of him.
I never know what I’m going to get next with Blake, but something about that is exciting and so different from what I’m used to. I think I need some of that in my life to shake it up. For so long, I did what my mom expected of me in most aspects of my life. It feels good to do what makes me happy.
“Here.” He offers me the center bite out of his cinnamon roll, bringing it to my lips. I mean, could this man get any more perfect?
“You’re giving me the center? That's the best part.” It’s the whole point of the cinnamon roll. Just like the best part of the muffin is the top.