Page 90 of Crack the Ice

“Right.” The poor girl clears her throat. “We’re out of s’more cupcakes.”

Of freaking course we are. The twinkle in his eye is all sorts of victorious, cheeky little shit.

“Is that your best seller, Charlotte?” he asks as she moves to take more off the rack.

She nods, but hurriedly piles them onto the tray that sits in the display case.

“Huh, and that’s without people knowing they were inspired by Maverick Reed. What a coincidence.” He crosses his arms over his chest, a smug smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth, and damn it, I hate that he’s right.

“Don’t let it go to your head, Mavy.”

He barks out a laugh, flattening his palms against the prep table, making his delectable forearms flex under the tribal tattoo trailing down his left arm. “Oh, it’s way too late for that, baby. I’m going to float away.”

I snap my towel at him right as the oven timer goes off. Pulling the doors open, I soak up the mini facial I get every time I’m smacked in the face with the heat. Pie’s done, the lattice top is perfectly brown, and the inside is bubbling nicely where I can see through it.

I hope she loves it. If not, I hope she appreciates the effort at least. I try to stay away from sentimental baked goods or family recipes. You can never get them quite right. They always taste good but not quite right. But maybe we can turn what would be a sad little nugget into a happy little girl.

Setting it on the table, I step back, only for Mav to sling his arm over my shoulder. “It looks and smells delicious.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, they’re lucky to have you, you know.”

Yeah, I’m even luckier to have them, though. “Do you think that maybe we can have a meeting or something with all of us before school starts? I know we’re all new to this, but I need some sort of schedule to follow. If not, I’ll forget, or I’ll stress, and then I won’t be what’s best for them.”

“Yeah, we can tomorrow. But I do want to ask, do you want your name on the adoption certificate? Tom called yesterday and asked again. I’d like it to be. There’s no exit route for me, Cess. It’s you and me or me and no one. I want this with you, but if it’s too much to ask too quickly, I under–”

“I do.” I cut him off. I do, not just because it’s an answered prayer in a roundabout way, but because it’s him. It’s what we dreamed of. It’s… us. Lily and Cade fit so well in the fold of his life, and I love them just as much. I want them to have the life they deserve: a family, grandparents, the greatest support system they could ever ask for. We can give them that.

His smile is blinding. “Okay,” he whispers in awe. “We’re doing this then.”

“We’re doing this, Daddy Reed.” I toss him a wink before throwing some of the scraps still on the prep table in the trash.

His head falls back, exposing the column of his neck. “Not you, too.”

“What if I call you Daddy, then?”

“Cecilia Samuels, do not send me to fucking therapy with a hard on.”

I freeze, my hand hovering over the trash can. Oh shit on a stick. I forgot he had to go to therapy. Heat floods my face. The vice grip my teeth have on my tongue is probably seconds from drawing blood. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kisses my forehead, readjusting himself in his pants as he pushes off the table. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” I give him a salute. “I’m proud of you, Mav.”

“Thanks, baby.”

He kisses my cheek one more time before disappearing through the doors. What a day. I’m going to need an ice bath or something. Living with this man without wanting to jump his bones is going to be damn near impossible.

THIRTY-TWO

MAVERICK

Last Wednesday was the “initiation” to the Framily for Sunny and the Jackson kids. I thought it was going to go off without a hitch. However, I was sadly fucking mistaken.

Sheila showed up, you know, considering it was August first, meaning another month, another excuse for a random visit. Except this time, Monroe was shirtless, running around the house pretending to be holding the bong Alec got caught holding at a party, which he was concerned would have ruined his chances at getting into the NHL. All scenes from Fake Skating, the book we’re reading.