Dirty Chef

“Alessia.”

Mmm.

The bed dipped, and I felt a hand on my back. Fuck, I wanted it to be the dream. In dreams, there was no stopping. Was it already time to get up? It couldn’t be. Adam was an early riser, but I was fully capable of setting my own alarm. My room was a no-boys-allowed zone, and he knew it.

“Wake up, love.”

“No,” I whispered. “I don’t think so. Leave me alone.”

He chuckled quietly and stroked my back, and that… That was glorious. I purred like a cat and stretched out under the sheet. I kept my room warm so I only had to use my ubersoft sheets, unlike Adam, who wanted it frigid so he could use a duvet.

“Don’t make me pull this away.” He pinched the sheet.

“I don’t think you wanna do that.” I yawned, half annoyed, and wished he’d leave. I wanted to sleeeep.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Adam asked.

I let out a whine. “Adam, why are you here? It’s dark out, for chrissakes.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to rip the covers away?” he pressed.

I huffed. More than half annoyed now. “Because I’m not wearing anything, you jerk. Can you let me sleep now?”

“Bullshit,” he laughed. “Women don’t sleep naked.”

I was not getting into this with him. I refused.

“Anyway.” He stood up, finally. “You might wanna get up. Jack called me. Isla’s in labor.”

“Oh my God!” I flew up into a somewhat seated position and tucked the sheet under my arms. “That’s what you lead with!” I scowled sleepily at his form. He was facing away from the light coming in from the living room, so I couldn’t see his features very well. “When did they head in? Should we get over to the hospital right away? Everything’s okay, right?”

Adam said nothing at first. He cocked his head. “Are you really not wearing anything underneath?”

I stared at him. Once a manwhore, always a manwhore. Okay, it’d been years since he’d stopped bragging to his brothers about his conquests, but that didn’t mean anything. His mother liked to smack him upside the head and remind him of my presence, so I assumed he’d just stopped sharing those stories when I was around. For which I was thankful. But seriously, if he could stop thinking about sex for one second, that would be great. It wasn’t as if he wanted that with me anyway. The women he dated were tall, often blond, and slender. I was none of those things.

“Is. Isla. Okay?” I gritted out.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah.” He coughed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I told Jack we’d be there with coffee and breakfast in an hour.”

Okay, now I had something to work with. “Thank you. I’ll get ready as soon as you’ve closed the door behind you.”

“So, you actually—”

“Yes, Adam!” I yelled in frustration.

“Fuck,” he groaned and turned to leave—at long last. “Wait—are pillow fights a myth?”

“Get. Out.”

“Fine,” he bitched.

I blew out a heavy breath.

* * *

An hour later, Adam and I walked into the hospital with coffee and breakfast sandwiches. I’d just thrown on a pair of yoga pants and a hoodie after my shower, so I hoped the waiting room hadn’t turned into a family reunion yet.

It hadn’t. Only Jack sat there.

Normally, he was dressed in suits or, at the very least, slacks and a nice shirt. When he pulled on sweats and hoodies, it was more difficult to tell him and Adam apart.

The entire Grady family screamed of tall, dark, and handsome.

Add sheepish to Jack’s current expression when he spotted us.

I knew what that meant, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“False alarm?” I guessed.

“Fuck, really?” Adam raised his brows.

“Yeah. I apologize.” Jack gave me a hug, and I reached up to kiss his cheek. “The doctor’s just giving her a quick exam to make sure.”

“It’s totally fine,” I assured. “We’ll consider it our trial run. We’re super ready for the actual day now.”

Jack smiled faintly. I could tell he was worried, like any father-to-be worth his salt. With Isla so pregnant, there wasn’t much Jack could do but try to make her more comfortable.

“Let’s make it a rule, though,” Adam yawned. “Next time I get up at three in the morning, I expect there to be a niece and nephew to meet me.”

Jack chuckled and stuck his hands down into the pockets of his sweats. “So, you’re saying Isla and I shouldn’t ask you to be the godfather?”

My mouth popped open, tears welled up in my eyes, and I grabbed at Adam’s bicep. “Oh my God, that’s so freaking sweet.”

“Are you shitting me?” Adam seemed to be in disbelief. “Of all the people you could ask—brother, I’m flattered as hell, but were you guys drunk when you considered me?”

I laughed and wiped away a stray tear.

Jack smirked. “It would be a package deal. Alessia would have to agree to be their godmother.”