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But only because his sister is here.
If we were alone, I’d probably be forgetting everything about the ovulation window and falling on him.
Like I did that night.
Totally inadvisable.
I’m about to take a step back when Ledger, keeping his eyes on me, addresses Callie. “Are there any that you didn’t make?”
I feel Callie whirl around but thankfully my back is to her so she can’t see how furiously I’m blushing right now. I widen my eyes at him and his response is to twitch his lips.
“You’re such a douche —”
Looking away, he shakes his head. “You can’t curse in front of Little Berry, remember?”
I know she’s glaring at him. “Why are you still here?”
He’s rubbing Halo’s back who’s smacking her palms on his jaw. Clean-shaven by the way, just like last week. “Because you still haven’t answered my question.”
I can feel the anger radiating out of Callie and I speak up. “These ones.”
He turns back to me, that smirk still lingering on his lips but his eyes are a lot more intense than they were when they were on his sister. Slowly, he glances down to where I’m pointing: to the tray full of frosted cupcakes. Then, looking up, “You baked them?”
“Yes.”
He stares at me a beat before he grabs it. “They’re mine then.”
“Ledger!” Callie snaps.
But his focus is on me and my shocked eyes. “All of them.”
“I swear to God, Ledger, I —”
He doesn’t stand around to listen to her rant and simply leaves with Halo and my cupcakes.
Well, his.
According to him.
It takes me a bit to get Callie to calm down but we manage to finish her big project. And when I get back home after that, I’m the one calling him.
As soon as he picks up, I go, “What was that?”
I hear him sigh. “What was what?”
Standing at the foot of my bed, I say, “About the cupcakes.”
“What about the cupcakes?”
I frown. “There was nothing wrong with Callie’s cupcakes.”
“There was.”
“No, there wasn’t. They were —”
“They weren’t made by you,” he says.
My mouth was already open, ready with a retort, but now I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to be mad at him. So I plop down on the bed and say, “You didn’t have to eat almost the whole tray. And bring the leftovers home.”
Which is what he ended up doing.
Much to Callie’s displeasure.
And when Callie’s displeased, my brother is displeased as well. Which means it made for a fun — not — dinner.
He sighs as if in pleasure though. “I had to.”
“No, you —”
“Because they were mine. And they were delicious as fuck.”
Again, I lose all my steam and say, “You’re crazy, you know that.”
He hums. “Better than being a pussy who barely gets to taste the cupcakes his girl made just because she said so.” Then, “Like your brother.”
Again, that’s exactly what happened.
Reed came home from work, saw cupcakes scattered all over the kitchen island, and grabbed a couple. But Callie got mad and so he left it at that. Despite the fact that Ledger was snickering at him and eating cupcakes from his tray. Which I’d like to point out that he did not share with Reed.
“You could’ve at least shared one with my brother,” I grumble.
“Absolutely fucking not.”
“It would’ve been the polite thing to do.”
“Fuck polite,” he retorts.
“Seriously, Ledger, you guys need to —”
“He would’ve done the same thing.”
“No, he wouldn’t have,” I lie.
“You know he would have.”
I open my mouth to retort but then close it. Because he’s right.
My brother would’ve done the same thing. Just because he appears slightly tamed after marrying Callie and having his baby girl, he’s every bit of an asshole like Ledger. And I know; he’s my brother.
So shaking my head, all I say is, “Fine. He would have. But it still wasn’t right.”
He grunts in response.
“And why were you staring at me?” I ask then, lying down on the bed. “In front of your sister no less.”
“Because it’s my turn now.”
“Your turn at what?”
“At staring at you,” he says, his voice sounding low. “You’ve stared at me plenty, remember? Given that you were my pretty little stalker.”
I was playing with the button on my dress but at his words, I stop.
And I blush.
Which he somehow knows. “Are you blushing?”
“No.”
“You’re blushing.”
“Shut up.”
Which makes him chuckle.
Biting my lip, I say, “So what, you’re my stalker now?”
“No,” he says. “I don’t think staring and wanting from afar is my forte.”
“So then what is?”
“Taking the thing I want.” Then, “So no, I’m not your stalker, Firefly. I’m your neighborhood’s friendly kidnapper. I take what I want.”
A shiver rolls down my spine. “That’s wrong on so many levels.”
“Maybe.”
Another shiver at his cavalier attitude. “It’s actually criminal.”
“So then when you get off the phone with me, you should call the cops.”
“Maybe I will.”
“And lock your doors.”
I press my thighs together. “Maybe I will do that too.”
