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“Congratulations. You’ve stated the obvious.” He sat down on the stool.
Torin’s gaze flicked past him. “Angel Alert. Get the fuck out while you still can.”
Shit. That was the last thing in the world he needed right now—an alleged message from his dead wife. She’d probably also tell him he was a mess, which he was.
“Thanks, bro, I owe you.” He started to head toward the back door to go and hide in the walk-in pantry.
At the last second, he remembered to grab his beer.
This was what his life had become. Hiding in a pantry from his psychic cousin. Which was better than a psycho cousin. But still.
He eyed his beer bottle. He didn’t even want it.
He wanted what he couldn’t have.
As usual.
Chapter5
Edwina overslept, which wasn’t totally out of character, but this time was worse than a normal Saturday.
She had tossed and turned half of the night, replaying her conversation with Sullivan, before worrying about the business, and reevaluating every facet of the operation with a critical and fearful eye. She realized she’d never called the accountant back. That required twenty minutes of concern at three a.m. trying to puzzle out why Juanita wanted to speak to her. Edwina’s guesses ranged from they were being audited to the payroll software was too cumbersome to an employee being under (or over) paid, none of which she could do a damn thing about in the middle of the night.
She was exhausted when she finally crawled out of bed, having smacked the snooze button so many times it gave up and fell silent permanently. Her brain wasn’t functioning at peak capacity when she stumbled down the hallway to get some coffee, sniffing the air. It smelled like… bacon. Her stomach growled.
Immediately she found Sullivan in the kitchen. He had Finn standing on a chair next to him and they were making pancakes and yes, bacon. Now her mouth started to water in addition to her stomach making enthusiastic noises.
Sullivan glanced up at her and smiled. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”
Not as well as him, obviously. He had damp hair from a shower and was dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. He displayed no bleary-eyed evidence of the fact that he had to have gone to bed sometime after two, given that’s when the bar closed, and had driven to his sister’s already to pick up Finn. And he’d started breakfast. Her stomach growled again.
“I slept okay. You’ve been busy,” she said, eyeing the skillet as she slipped past them to the coffee pot.
“We’re making pancakes,” Finn said.
“Those look so good,” she said, honestly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten homemade pancakes. Or any sort of pancakes. “You’re good with that spatula, Finn.”
He was expertly maneuvering a flip like a junior chef. This was not their first father-son pancake rodeo.
“I know,” Finn said.
That made her smile. To have the confidence of a four-year-old. She hoped he never lost that.
It was heaven to not have to wait for a cup to brew. Sullivan had made a full pot. She reached for a mug, and rolled her head, trying to loosen up the kinks. “I’m so glad it’s Saturday. I would have missed my daily eight a.m. meeting this morning. There’s no way I could have been up at six with the time difference. How are you so wide awake, Sullivan? I’m envious.”
“I don’t need a lot of sleep. That helps with my schedule.”
“So Finn doesn’t go to school or have a sitter?” She poured a very full mug of black coffee. No cream or sugar.
“Nope.” He glanced over at her, holding a piece of bacon. “It’s the whole reason I work nights, so that I can spend my days with him.”
“The whole reason?” According to neighborhood gossip, it was also to troll for hookups.
He grinned and bit his bacon. “The whole reason.”
Edwina sipped her coffee, keeping her mug up by her lips as a convenient shield to study him. It must be exhausting to be that casually sexy all the time. He was like an ad for single fatherhood. If a puppy tumbled around the corner, the picture would be complete.
It also would be better if he was shirtless.
