Page 42 of Sterling Heat

“I—” I pause, swallowing around the chocolate in my throat and the desire to ravish that mouth of hers. “I can’t.”

With an abrupt release of her nape and a large step backward, I pull away and hold up the ramekin like a shield between us. Like a simple circular ceramic can protect me from doing something stupid with someone so enticing. Guilt is on my dirty hands. Guilt, and blood, and shame at who I was despite where I am.

Enya stares at me, hurt filling her eyes. The rejection might sting but it’s so much better than how much I could really hurt someone like her.

And the type of pain she’d inflict on me.

If only I could kiss her one more time and never again, but I know that would never be enough. The addictive trait in me would crave more and more of her, and that’s just dangerous for both of us.

Chapter 13

[Sebastian]

On Sunday, there is no way Vale will let me miss another family dinner, so I head to the old farmhouse. When our father died, Stone moved in to raise Knox, Ford, Vale, and me. However, Knox was on the cusp of eighteen and pretty much a legal adult. He was headed for the military back then.

In many ways, I’m surprised that Vale didn’t want to burn the house to the ground. Instead, the place has slowly been remodeled to what it is today. A picture-perfect home with a deep-green tin roof and shutters around each window, making it look like the goddamn Waltons lived here instead of the Sylvers—a clan of burly boys with one sacred daughter.

When I learned to bake, my father would tease me about it, stereotyping the skill as feminine. My fists proved otherwise. I was always a fighter. And dear ol’ Dad never had a problem eating what I made.

The gravel space in front of the old house is full of cars, telling me who is present. Taking the front steps two at a time, I cross the wide porch and enter the house through the open screen door. After setting a plate of brownies on the kitchen counter, I head to the backyard where everyone gathers on such a warm day.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. Daddy Warbucks,” Knox teases, calling me the rich dude once again when I live a conservative life. An honest life, making a legal wage, and running a legitimate business.

Knox pulls me into a hug, clapping my back hard enough to piss me off. I’m on edge and have been since that night in the bakery with Enya. I seem to be measuring every day by her. The day she moved in. The night I almost kissed her. The bakery incident. She’s consuming me, and perhaps some family time is the distraction I need.

They’ll irritate me just enough I won’t think about her for at least five minutes.

“Where’s your date?” Clay asks me next and there goes my willpower to stop thinking about Enya.

“She went to see the baby.”

I didn’t invite her to attend dinner. I’d meant what I said to her silent bedroom door the other night. These guys would scare her off.

“Ah, right. The baby.” Clay winks at me. “Never pictured you as a dad.” His smile says he’s poking fun at me, but there is truth beneath the jest.

“I’m not a dad.”

“But you’re playing one. And you’re not even a decent actor,” Knox jibes, wiggling his brows.

“It’s only for a little while.” Realistically, I could pull the hospital band from my wrist and quit the farce. There isn’t any reason to continue seeing Adara now that Enya is free to come and go from the hospital. Enya’s even been taken off her blood pressure medication, which was the original reason I asked her to stay with me. She’s doing so well.

“Hmm.” Vale greets me next. “Typically, fatherhood is for life.”

We all know that isn’t true. Our own father stepped out of his role. He wasn’t good to his kids and got progressively worse the younger down the line we were. With Stone in college, and Clay at the Seed and Soil, then Judd off to college and Knox heading for the military, there was some real fear in Ford, Vale, and me to remain behind with our dad.

Vale also knows from Hudson’s father that some men just don’t take the honor of fatherhood as a commitment.

But I don’t want to talk about dads.

Today, Stone is barbequing like he’s done for almost two decades. He wasn’t much of a cook when we were kids, but he could grill. Vale quickly learned some skills and I used my baking tricks, restored after Dad was gone. Although most of the time, baking was an excuse to feed my munchies since I was high most of my teenage years.

“Gonna stick around for the game?” Stone asks.

My brother Ford is a centerfielder for the Chicago Anchors. Despite being in his late thirties, he’s still a starter with a good arm and a great swing.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss it.” While Ford is just above me in birth order, we didn’t always get along the best. Out of self-preservation, we stuck together when we were younger, looking out for Vale, but Ford always had one foot out the door, ready for something bigger and better. And he had the damn athletic ability to get himself somewhere.

I hated living in his shadow. However, as I’ve aged, I appreciate the work Ford had to put in to be the athlete he is and have the lifestyle he’s earned. It still doesn’t stop me from being envious, but I also know if I had that kind of fame and fortune, I’d only have been in bigger trouble and probably dead. Because with money comes means, and that can lead to almost too much access to costly things like drugs.