“Everyone, this is Jaclyn Tanner. She’s one of our contract attorneys and will be staying on the mountain for a while.”
A while? What does that mean? A day? A week? I only brought enough clothes for three days. Crap. I need to pay better attention to my surroundings. Getting lost in my head around others is not safe. Nope, I’m always hyperaware of everything. So why is holding Andrew’s hand making me forget where I am?
A short woman with long honey-blonde hair and large hazel eyes smiles at me as she introduces herself, “Hi, Jaclyn, I’m Emma. Welcome to the mountain. The hulking beast next to me is Asher, my husband.”
Before I can answer, a redhead with striking eyes speaks.
“I’m Rebekah. We hope you enjoy your visit. I’m married to Adam, the more handsome twin.” She giggles as a man, whom I assume is her husband, wraps his arm around her waist and squeezes her tight.
“I’m Adam. That’s Aaric, his wife, Hannah, and their baby girl.” He points to the man who looks exactly like him, although his beard might be a tad shorter. He’s standing with a woman with long, light, curly blonde hair who’s holding a baby.
Shit. They’re waiting for me to say something. Andrew rubs his thumb over the back of my hand, offering his support. I can do this. I’m a fully functioning human. The words come out rushed, my voice breathy as I answer, “It’s nice to meet you. Your home is lovely.” I sound ridiculous, I know I do. I never learned how to do any of this.
Andrew takes pity on me and pulls me over to an empty chair at the island. “C’mon, let’s eat before it gets cold. Whose turn was it to cook tonight?”
“Ours,” Adam says. “Rebekah was craving lasagna.”
The men nod, as if it’s a given because his wife wanted it. Is this how actual families act? I never knew my father. And my mother—let’s just say she was never maternal.
Andrew takes the seat next to me and leans close. Is he going to kiss me? Although why that thought pops into my head, craziness. But no, not a kiss, but his breath against my ear is just as sensual. “You don’t need to eat anything you don’t like, but I do insist you eat. Are you allergic to anything?”
I can barely force words out of my mouth; it’s so dry. If I turn just a little toward him, his lips will touch my ear. Heat rises over my neck and my face for the millionth time since I walked into this house. I feel the dampness in my panties, too. What the hell is this man doing to me?
“No allergies,” I murmur.
“Good. So that means you’ll eat what I put on your plate.” He winks, then grabs a plate and begins adding food from every dish.
Why didn’t I tell him no? I can’t believe how much food he’s piling on my plate. I eat better now that I have a decent paycheck and Cheri and I share expenses, but we don’t eat like this.
As he puts the mountain of food in front of me, I look at the overloaded plate. I’m about to tell him to take some for himself, and I’ll get my own when I notice all the married brothers are doing the same thing for their wives. No one thinks it’s strange, but isn’t it? I mean, they’re all adult women. Surely, they can get their own food.
I find my voice and whisper to Andrew, “I can’t eat all of this. It’s enough food for three days…”
“Just eat what you can, Sweetpea. But don’t push it around your plate and think I won’t notice. Your body needs fuel.” His tone is different. More dominant. Fuck. It’s enough to soak my panties. Now I’m fighting the need to squirm in my chair. The last thing I need is for anyone to know I’m attracted to Andrew.
The Gallant family dynamic is enlightening. Having never been part of a family, I don’t know whether this is normal or if they’re different. I’ll have to ask Cheri when I have a chance. Her family is enormous. When they get together, I’m sure it’s similar.
I love how the men take care of their wives, but it doesn’t feel suffocating. It’s obvious how much they are in love, and I sigh partly from jealousy and partly because it’s beautiful to see. It’s like a fairytale—you read them but never expect to find it for yourself. Since I began reading romance, the desire for a happily ever after has gotten worse. Heroes who would die for their women, fighting for them until their last breath if necessary. That kind of love can’t be real, can it?
“Eat before it gets cold, Sweetpea,” Andrew says, only loud enough for me to hear.
The endearment registers in my brain, and I realize it’s not the first time he’s said it. Why? It’s sweet, but it makes me feel a little weird. I should be objecting. It’s not proper, right? He’s my boss, even if it’s indirectly. Don’t most companies have a no-fraternization policy? I can’t remember whether JNG does or not. It’s not like I was worried about having a relationship with anyone, just making sure I got the job.
Shit. HR will have a coronary if they find out. Oh God. I sat on his lap! I’m so screwed.
When Andrew clears his throat, I know it’s a reminder to eat. Grabbing my fork, I decide it’s a problem for future me as I slide the forkful of lasagna into my mouth.
The flavors explode on my tongue. Rich tomato sauce, perfectly seasoned meat, and oodles of cheese. It’s the best lasagna I’ve ever had, not that I have a lot to compare it to—mostly the frozen kind. “Wow, this is delicious,” I blurt without thinking.
It’s mortifying.
Expecting to hear their laughter, instead, Andrew says, “I told you.”
Adam adds, “I’m glad you like it. We’re all pretty decent in the kitchen. Our mom made sure we all learned. We take turns cooking for the family, whether we eat together or not.”
“Your mom taught you?” I know the story of their parents dying in a fire years ago. But before that, apparently, she taught them how to cook. I bet that doesn’t happen every day.
“Yup. She insisted that we be able to take care of ourselves. That if or when we got married, it wasn’t our wives’ responsibility to take care of us. We should be taking care of them,” Aaric replies.
