His narrowed further.
“I’m suspicious,” I said, walking in after him, not staring at his perfect body as he gave me his delicious back and walked into the kitchen. “Something smells good!”
“I cooked.” He said it so simply I wanted to smack him across the face with the nearest blunt object. “Followed some casserole recipe.”
“Of course you did.” I set my things on the kitchen counter, my eyes taking in the mostly clean living room and kitchen.
Other than a few dishes in the sink, everything looked perfect. As if Rip had balanced stay-at-home-dad life like a pro.
Still not trusting it, I walked over to the fridge.
It was full.
Just as I was about to admit semidefeat, something caught my eye. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” He crossed his arms.
“That coming out of the pantry?” I pointed again at part of what looked like a flag poking out from under the pantry door.
I went over to open it, only to have Rip sprint ahead of me and cover the door with his massive body. “Don’t.”
“Got something to hide… Rip?”
His eyes fell to my lips before he responded, “No.”
“Let me in the pantry.”
“No.”
“Rip!” I reached out to grab the handle, but he put his hands on my shoulders and tried to steer me away.
There was no way I could outmaneuver him, so I was about to go slack in his arms and make a run for it when Ben came running around the corner and announced, “Uncle Rip cried today!”
I stilled in his arms.
Rip swore under his breath.
“Swear jar!” Ben yelled.
“Oh?” I kept my laugh in. My smile, however, was huge. “What happened?”
“I think he’s stressed,” Ben whispered loudly.
“Ben.” Rip gritted his teeth. “Remember what we talked about.”
“Oh, sorry, yeah, don’t tell Aunt Colby you got stressed, and don’t tell Aunt Colby you ordered food.”
“Son of a bitch,” he swore again.
“Ahem, swear jar.” I elbowed him in the ribs.
“I could have bankrolled Ben’s college with the amount of swearing that took place under this roof today—I’m not proud of it.” Rip ran a hand through his gorgeous hair. “This is the fourth shirt I’ve put on today.”
“It’s nice.” I chewed my lower lip and stared into his green eyes. “Did you maybe want me to help you with something now that I’m home?”
His right eye twitched, and then he opened the pantry door and showed me his shame.
Sweet mother of God, miracles did happen. Toys. Clothes. DoorDash bags, groceries that still hadn’t been put away, and Stu… oh crap. “How long has the cat been in—”