How could I say no to his smile?
To the princess bubble bath?
To the heated looks he gave me?
“Okay,” I said, whispering my answer like a coward.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Trevor
Bella made me sing Twinkle Twinkleat least a dozen times before she finally fell asleep, still holding her mom’s black T-shirt like it was her teddy bear. Irrational anger coursed through me.
Because how dare she.
How. Dare. She.
It played on repeat over and over again in my head until I was sick with it, and when I walked by Malcom’s room and noticed that he was already crawling out of bed, I crooked my finger toward him. “Let’s go, buddy, you’re sleeping in Eric’s room tonight.”
He froze and then, “Really?”
“Yup. We’re going to try to keep the smell minimal, and the only way to do that with you two boys is to keep you in the same small, controlled environment.”
Malcom sniffed under his arms. “I smell like Batman Blueberry Wash, Dad.”
“Now.” I grinned. “Just wait until tomorrow morning when it smells like a rat straight up sacrificed its entire family on the altar of your underwear.”
He let out a giggle. “Rat farts.”
“I asked for that one, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, Dad, you’re funny.” He sprinted past me and into his brother’s room. “Eric! I get to sleep on the bottom bunk!”
I leaned against the doorframe and stared at Eric’s thunderous expression and then almost laughed when he tosseda pillow toward Malcom’s face and said in an authoritative voice, “You better not fart.”
Ah, boys.
“Bed.” I tried my most commanding voice and pointed at both of them. As if a parent’s pointer finger was the one thing they couldn’t look away from, they both gave me wide eyes and nods, with unison “Yes, Dad’s.”
Finally.
I closed their door and slowly walked toward the master suite. One of the reasons I’d blindly chosen the beach house was because the master suite had a beautiful view of the ocean, was close to the studio, and had a fireplace in the bathroom with heated tile floors. It wasn’t as nice as my place in Malibu, but it felt more like home than that mansion ever had.
I opened the door to the master and shut it quietly behind me as the sound of the bath water running filled the air almost like an electrical charge.
The fireplace was running.
The curtains were pulled back, and HGTV was on in the background, though the flat screen TV hanging over the fireplace was at least turned down to almost silent.
I would have hated for anything to drown out the water.
Or the fact that she was either in it or about to get in it.
The smell of Bella’s bubble bath assaulted me as I made my way into the large marble bathroom with its custom crown molding and large bay windows and was stunned stupid.
Penny was lounging in the bathtub, her toes up on the edges. Her nails were pink, and I fixated on them like a man who’d never seen feet before.
But they were so feminine, so… normal.
