I smirk, leaning over the counter. “Oh, no. Lala doesn’t like oats? I thought they were her favorites.”
Maddie shakes her head, her brown curls bouncing, and gives me the most serious look a two-year-old can muster. “Nope.”
Hopper exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yesterday she didn’t like eggs. Maybe she shouldn’t be eating breakfast with us, Maddie.”
Maddie gasps, placing a tiny hand over Lala’s ears. “Don say that.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I slide into the seat next to her, pretending to whisper to the stuffed pony. “What would you like instead, Lala?”
Maddie leans in, listening intently as if the toy actually spoke, then gasps and turns to Hopper. “Lala wans pankes.”
Hopper groans. “Of course she does.”
I grin, nudging him with my elbow. “Come on, pancakes aren’t a bad idea.”
He sighs dramatically, standing up and heading toward the stove. “Fine. But only because you’re encouraging this madness and you’ll help us clean.”
Maddie claps excitedly, hugging Lala. I watch them—the man I shouldn’t be falling for, the little girl I shouldn’t love this much already—and my chest tightens.
Because this feels too good to be real. Hopper moves easily in the kitchen, his broad shoulders shifting beneath his shirt as he pours batter onto the hot griddle, the scent of vanilla and butter filling the air. Maddie wiggles in her seat, kicking her legs, humming to herself.
I sip my coffee, watching them, watching him, my thoughts wandering back to Atlas. We haven’t spoken much about him.
I exhale softly, setting my mug down. “So . . . with Atlas back . . . have you talked to Ledger about it?”
Hopper’s movements still for a second, just enough for me to notice, before he flips a pancake onto a plate.
“Yeah,” he says gruffly. “I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole. They’re old enough to solve their own problems. He has a right to stay at our childhood home. Ledger can’t do much about it.”
I tilt my head. “You’re not concerned that they might . . . hurt each other?”
He shrugs. “Atlas seems strong enough to take Ledger. For Ledge’s sake, I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid. As Mal said, we have plenty of issues without having to worry about those two.”
Maddie hums to herself, blissfully unaware of the conversation or her uncle Atlas. Who I think would adore her if he was willing to get close to his family. I want to believe that’s just a matter of pulling them together. I should talk to Gale about it. She can convince her husband to give Atlas a chance, while I work on Atlas.
I glance toward her, then back at him. “Do we know how we’re going to get to the bottom of this? I’m mostly concerned about Maddie.”
Hopper finally turns, setting the plate on the counter before sitting back down. His eyes lock onto mine, unreadable, measuring. “Malerick assures me that this time things will be different. They’re going to give the agents a break on Sunday, but after that we’ll at least get your stalker. The rest will have to go slowly.”
The rest. I guess it refers to the syndicate he didn’t want to tell me about, but finally came up last night after a couple of very fun orgasms. This guy really likes my mouth and my pussy.
“So . . .” He clears his throat. “I know you and Atlas are close.”
It’s not a question, but there’s something unspoken beneath his words. Something he isn’t asking out loud.
I nod. “Yeah. I told you that already. He’s one of my closest friends.”
His jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t press.
I watch him, taking in the way his fingers flex against the counter, the way his shoulders tense just enough for me to notice. And that’s when I realize—he doesn’t like it.
“Hopper,” I murmur, tilting my head. “Are you jealous?” I can’t help but grin because this is really funny.
“No.” His gaze snaps to mine. “I don’t get jealous.”
I smirk, leaning in slightly. “You sure?”
His jaw tics, his fingers drumming once against the counter before he exhales, shaking his head.
