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Seven quiet words and I forget about cooking. Reaching over, I turn the heat off under the pot as my heart drums a hard rhythm in my chest.
I think I know where this is going, and I’m not looking to burn the kitchen down while I wait for Everleigh to say what she must’ve come down here to say. “You do?”
Still not looking at me, she nods.
I beat back the urge to drag her into my arms. “And you want more of it?” I ask quietly.
She stops twisting her fingers together and lifts her head. For several seconds, she doesn’t speak. “I know it’s not safe for me to stay here with you because of Lawrence, and if my mom—myrealmom—is alive somewhere in the world, I really want to find her. More than anything. But…”
My heart kicks up a gear, close to pounding right out of my chest. My muscles tremble with all the effort I’m exerting to keep to this side of the kitchen. “But?”
“Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to stay,” she says so quietly I have to strain to hear her over my thunderous heartbeats.
I stare at her.
She trusts us. Somehow, we’ve gotten her to trust us.
I’m fumbling to find the right words that won’t shatter her bourgeoning trust when she darts a rapid glance into my face and shuffles to the edge of the counter, preparing to jump. “Sorry, I—”
I’m across the kitchen in four big strides, my hands cradling the back of her head as I peer into her face. “You just struck me dumb, cher. Give me a second to take it in.”
“Take what in?” she asks, her brow wrinkling.
I drop a soft kiss on the tip of her pert nose. “Shh. Need another second.”
She blinks up at me, waiting.
When nothing happens, she parts her lips.
I shake my head. “Nope. Not finished yet.”
A smile tugs on one corner of her lips, tempting me to drop the next kiss on their soft lushness. “This second is taking a while.”
“We Cajuns like to take our time,” I drawl.
The amusement in her eyes fades and arousal swims in the pale green depths. “To think things through?”
Keeping my gaze fixed on hers, I shake my head. “Not only.”
I’m taking things a tiny step forward, watching her carefully in case I’m going too fast or too hard. But she surprises me when she says, “Kylian and I did stuff in the pool that we shouldn’t have.”
I heard.
I appreciated that he made her feel good, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a big part of me that wished it had been me in the pool with my face between Everleigh’s thighs.
“Yeah?” I ask instead of confirming I saw—and heard—exactly what they were up to in that pool since there’s no knowing how she’d respond. She’s opening up to me—to us—bit by bit. I’m not trying to get in the way of the slow path she’s treading to trusting us.
“He told me he wouldn’t knot me,” she says as her eyes search mine. Is she looking for the same confirmation from me? I can promise it until our instincts—both mine and hers—overrule any of our wants.
“And did he keep his promise?” I ask, already knowing he did because she’s still here. If Kylian hadn’t kept his promise, she’d have walked out the same day.
“He did,” she admits, still peering up at me.
“No one in this house is ever gonna do something you don’t want, Everleigh. You say stop, we stop. Got it, cher?” I press my forehead to hers.
She nods.
And even though I want to drop a kiss on her lips and haul her into my arms, I force myself to release her and take a step back instead. “Then let me finish up this meal for—”
