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I sure as hell do.
“Well, Enzo didn’t start that way. He was the one lighting bottle rockets in the alley. My parents had to bail him out of jail six times. It’s a running joke in our family—we literally keep a tally on the whiteboard in our office. He turned it all around and put himself through business school, but that had nothing to do with my parents. And Romeo, he’s the athlete. He’s the one with all the swagger. He loves hard, plays hard, and works hard. Marco’s the kiss-ass. The teachers love him, my parents think he can do no wrong, but guess what? He’s the one sneaking out of girls’ windows and forging notes to skip school. And the baby of the family, Rocco? He doesn’t care what anyone thinks. He has this whole secret life none of us knows anything about. So, you see what I mean? I have great, really involved parents, and there was nothing they could do to control their sons. People are just born with a certain nature, and I’m not sure anyone can change it.”
He noticed she hadn’t mentioned herself in that long list. “And what about you? What’s your nature?”
“I was the dreamer. My brothers were breaking their necks doing parkour, while I was on the beach making sand pies. They were climbing trees, and I was decorating cakes at the base of them. While they were busy pranking each other, I was picking wildflowers and making designs out of the petals.” She headed back to the oven to pull out a tray of profiteroles. “From what I can tell, Kinsley’s a great kid. Which means you’re doing a good job. So, maybe ease up the pressure you put on yourself so you can enjoy her instead of constantly worrying about her.”
“Not as easy as it sounds.”
“No, I know. My brothers put my parents through the wringer.” She checked the bottoms of a few of them and then set the tray on a trivet. “They’re just big into natural consequences.”
“There’s nothing that terrifies me more than that.”
“Yeah, but the only way to become good at something is to practice. And the more experience we get, the sharper our instincts become. I mean, Enzo was really into skateboarding, but it took some serious falls and stitches before he figured out how to avoid getting hurt. But he learned through experience. Not because of warnings from my parents or advice from other skaters.”
He could only offer a curt nod of acknowledgment because he knew if he gave Kinsley a skateboard, his fearless girl would try to ride it off the roof and into the pool or something equally reckless. “Kinsley’s just…more.”
“Well, you obviously know her better than I do, so just ignore me. Consider it the ramblings of a woman baking furiously at four in the morning.” She headed to the fridge and brought out a carton of eggs.
Back to work, she pulled a whisk out of a drawer and opened a new bag of sugar. Her movements were graceful, her expression thoughtful, and for the first time in his life, he could see what he was missing.
He had a big family, lots of friends, and plenty of acquaintances. He had all the female companionship a man could want. But he didn’t have the thrill of being with someone who excited him. Who stirred him up.
He told himself he didn’t have the bandwidth to add a romantic relationship to his life, but really, he just hadn’t met anyone who tripped his switches.
But Grace did. Not only did he like talking to her and get comfort from just being in the same room, but she made his blood hot.
Watching her triggered some primal instinct, some beastly roar from deep within that made him want to claim her, sink his teeth into the back of her neck, and make her part of his pack.
Being near her made him vital and alive.
He didn’t know about the constant tension he held in his neck, his shoulders, and his back until he watched her crack eggs, separating the yolks from the whites. Her practiced movements soothed him. The whir of the mixer, the intensity in her eyes as if the entire world balanced on the sturdy peaks of her egg whites…he could watch her forever and not get bored.
The tumult in his mind settled, leaving him with the core of her message to him. “I know I hold her back. I just didn’t think it mattered at her age.”
“I mean, her grandma’s a riding teacher, and I found her standing behind a horse in a stall.” She set the mixer down and added vanilla to the whisked egg yolks. “But I’ve been here two weeks, so what do I know?”
“If I let her go, she’ll…she could get hurt.” He couldn’t bear to see his daughter in pain.
She stopped working and gave him her full attention. “You said she was curious. Did you mean to say she’s a thrill-seeker?”
“No. She’s not.” Great question, though, because that was what he’d been. That difference seemed important. “But she doesn’t assess risk well.”Or at all. “She’s impulsive.” Sometimes, he felt so fucking helpless. “I just want to keep her safe.”
“Of course, you do.” She reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s normal to limit her exposure to dangerous things until she’s old enough to make mature decisions.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
A clear liquid began to boil, and she checked the thermometer perched on the side of the pot. Quickly, she cut the flame and set it on a back burner. “But if she’s not allowed to take risks, I’m not sure how she’ll get enough experience to navigate the tough situations.”
He got that. He and his friends had done a lot of risky shit before attempting BASE jumping. Years of pushing the limits had taught them to be wily and to trust their intuition.
He was denying Kinsley the opportunity to hone those instincts and to learn through failure. While he couldn’t argue with Grace’s logic, it made him deeply uncomfortable. Because if he took his eyes off Kinsley—if he let her go wherever her impulses took her…
A churning sensation hit his gut, the same he’d had while watching Booker fall from the sky. His memory played out the scene, showing him the moment his friend’s body hit the ground, his legs crumpling—
ChapterNine
Jaime’s heart galloped,and an icy hand closed around his heart. The kitchen felt hot as an oven, so he moved to the French doors and threw them open.
