Page 37 of Winning His Wager

“You are a better cook than even Meyra.”

“Shhh. Do not say so. That is Talley blaspheme. And I’m not better than Meyra. I just do okay. Plenty of practice. I started when I was nine or so. I just had to stand on a chair. Mom was going through a tough time, and Dorie was only three or four. Devvie and Dahlia would play with her while I made dinner. Easy stuff, like hot dogs and french fries. Dad was working late hours at the time, and, well, we needed to eat.”

“He left you at home, in charge of your sisters, atnine?”

“I was pretty resourceful, you know. And Mom was there, in case of an emergency, she just…struggled. Her anxiety would come and go, depending on…life, really. Some days she functioned perfectly fine, others she just didn’t. Most of the time, she was okay, though.”

“And that put you taking care of things you had no business taking care of when she wasn’t.” He turned toward her. Then his hands were around her waist. And he was justthere.Right in her space. “I am sorry. Your parents should have done better for you girls. All eight of you beautiful monsters.”

“I’m trying to accept what happened, honestly. My parents do love us. I have never doubted that. Until…recently. But they really do.”

“Your father is a controlling asshole.”

“No denying that, but Devvie believes it stems from fear. And I agree with her. He is terrified something will happen to one of us. Our childhood wasn’t all bad, you know.”

“I don’t like your father. I probably never will. Finding Dusty out there in the snow kind of cemented that.”

“I can understand that.” Dylan wiggled. Just a little. Strong male hands tightened on her thighs. “You’re, uh, getting a bit touchy.”

“I don’t care. Do you?” His eyes flared. Got darker. There was that give-me-the-cookies look on his face again. “You smell really good.”

“I smell like chocolate cake and vanilla.” Her hand came up. His chest was justright there.It was hard not to want to touch him. So she just…did. He was just such a beautifully built man. And he was funny and hardworking, and she’d seen him be kind and helpful—to others.

He still thoughtDylanwas the devil. Hard to forget that part. He’d practically run from her like a scalded cat all week, ever since the dance. Dylans were scary creatures, after all.

But he was right there, looking atherthe way other men looked at Darcey or Dixie. The way Ben definitely looked at Dusty. No guy had ever looked at Dylan that way. Not really.

Talk about terrifying. Utterly terrifying. Her entire body was tingling here. “Just…what are you doing?”

“An experiment.” His hand came up. Cupped her cheek. He felt so warm again. Scorching, really. “Your skin is incredibly soft. I’ve wondered. It looks like it would be. You are paler than your sisters. More like Marin, really. Pale cream everywhere that tempts a man to touch, to taste...”

He almost sounded like he was saying it only to himself. Dylan just looked at him. She wasn’t the least bit sure what she should do now. What she even wanted to do now.

She jumped when her phone rang. Clear across the living room. Way over in the kitchen. She hopped to her feet and booked it across the room.

Staying that close to Fletcher was probablynota good idea.

She was going to remember that.

23

He wanted that woman.His housekeeper. Her.

Fletcher contemplated just what that meant for him as he listened to her talking to one of her sisters. She sounded a little shaky. He just watched her as she puttered in the kitchen, her earbuds in as she talked. She was putting the cake away, and cleaning. Even though the kitchen was spotless. He got the impression Dylan had a few control issues. She liked things far more organized and orderly than he would have ever expected. She cleaned when she was nervous, anxious, preoccupied, and bored.

He just watched her—imagining slipping that little blue sweater over her head and seeing if every inch of her was as soft as he imagined. He could lift her into his arms and carry her down the hall. He had a nice, extra-large bed in there. Plenty of room for him to do everything he wanted to do to his housekeeper.

Over and over again. Forever.

He could keep her there forever.

He had five months and two days with her living in his house to go. Unless she called it quits, first.

Left him.

Fletcher almost snarled even imagining her leaving him.

No. Not happening.