Home > The Wrong Billionaire's Bed (Billionaire Boys Club #3)(19)

The Wrong Billionaire's Bed (Billionaire Boys Club #3)(19)
Author: Jessica Clare

The lodge was silent, and Audrey crept down the hall, wondering where everyone was. Was she the first one awake? She supposed she should make breakfast if that was the case. Surely she couldn’t mess up toast.

She crept into the living room area and paused. On the sofa directly across from the now-dark fireplace, Daphne was sprawled out, facedown. Her twin looked like hell; her skin was pasty, her features were haggard, and her hair was sweaty and plastered against her pale skin. Her face rested on a cushion in Cade’s lap as he slept upright, his head tilted backward, his blond hair mussed. His mouth was open, a hint of a snore echoing from him. A plastic bucket rested between his feet, clearly for Daphne’s use.

They both looked exhausted. Audrey felt a twinge of dismay at the sight. She should have been the one helping her twin through the night. Instead, she’d been wrapped up in her own turbulent thoughts. Cade, being the gentleman that he was, had taken over the task. She watched him sleep for a moment, admiring his clean, handsome features. There was a dark shadow of facial hair along his jaw, chin, and upper lip, and it was the first time she’d ever seen him look even slightly rumpled. It was a bit odd to see. Even his dress shirt was wrinkled, the sleeves rolled up at his elbows. He seemed oddly vulnerable, and she smiled to herself at the sight.

She was glad he was here, though. Not only was he helping with Daphne, but this would give her time to spend with him, too. She’d been dreaming of the day they would finally reunite, and though she hadn’t planned it quite like this, she couldn’t be sorry for it. Today, she resolved, she was going to spend at her sister’s side.

And if Cade was there, too, even better.

She’d let them sleep for now, though, and she’d make breakfast. Audrey passed through the living room on silent, careful feet, and then headed through the swinging door into the kitchen.

The sight that greeted her there made her stop in her tracks.

His massive back was turned to her, muscles rippling and shoulders moving as Reese reached for something in one of the cabinets. The sleep pants he wore were hideously checkered, but they were also incredibly tight across his firm ass and low enough that they showed the indent of his lower back . . . and the fact that he wasn’t wearing underwear. His feet were bare.

He turned and glanced at her as she stood in the doorway, petrified, and he gave her another one of those lazy, smug smiles. “Good morning,” he whispered. His gaze seemed to pause at her mouth, then took in her tightly bound-up hair, and the smile grew amused. “Armoring up for battle?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered back. “I came in here to make breakfast. I didn’t realize anyone else was in here. What are you doing in here?”

“You,” he told her with a point of the potato peeler in his hand, “are not getting anywhere near this food. Not after last night’s debacle.”

She padded to his side, crossing her arms over her chest, and studied the counter space in front of him. There was a bowl of beaten eggs, another bowl full of pancake batter, and he had a stack of washed potatoes in front of him. “What’s all this? Don’t tell me you’ve decided to cook?”

“Someone’s got to do it,” he said with a lopsided grin. “And those two in the living room look like they had a rough night.”

“They do,” she admitted. “I feel bad that it’s not me out there.”

“I don’t,” he told her. “You were busy keeping me occupied.”

She smacked his arm and picked up one of the potatoes. “You want me to peel these?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned against the counter and gazed down at her. “Think you’ll mess it up?”

She glared at him. “I have some skill, you know.”

“Oh, I know that,” he drawled, and it made a blush creep up her cheeks. She bit her lip when that crazy flutter began in her belly again. “But I was talking about potatoes.”

She rolled her eyes and took the peeler from him, then grabbed a few potatoes and headed over to the garbage can. “I’ll peel while you cook.”

“Suit yourself,” he told her, handing her the rest of the potatoes. He pulled out a skillet and set it on the stove top, then began to flip a few of the dials with the casual expertise of someone who had cooked plenty of meals. He whistled quietly under his breath and headed to the refrigerator, then bent over, his pants nearly splitting at the movement.

Audrey froze at the sight of his ass in the air, the pants pulled impossibly tight against his skin. She could practically run a ruler down the cleft of his ass. And it was a rather fine ass. She gaped at it a moment more, then forced herself to focus on the potatoes when he straightened and turned around with a package of bacon in his hand. She gave one of the potatoes a few awkward scrapes.

“Were you checking out my ass, Audrey?”

She sighed heavily. “You were sticking it in the air, Reese. It’s hard not to.”

“Did you like what you saw?”

“No,” she said in her best prissy voice. “You have cellulite.”

He laughed softly at that. “You’re such a liar. Your face is all red.”

She glared at him and scraped the potato a little harder.

He pulled out a knife from a nearby block and gestured at her. “Try and leave a little of the potato there for the actual pan.”

She glanced down at the potato in her hand and noticed she was gouging half of it away with her angry scrapes. Damn it. She finished peeling it and tossed it on the counter with an irritated look at him, then grabbed the next one. “So you’re leaving today?”

“Nah.” He laid a couple of strips of bacon in the pan. “I needed a vacation, and that hasn’t changed even though Camilla left.”

She began to scrape the next potato angrily. “You weren’t invited.”

“Actually,” he said in a lazy voice. “I was.” He finished laying bacon in the pan and then closed it up, returning it to the fridge. “Just because you didn’t invite me doesn’t mean I’m not welcome here.”

“My sister’s trying to get clean. She doesn’t need someone like you disturbing her.”

“Have I disturbed her at all? Has she indicated to you that I’m making her unhappy? Oh, that’s right. You wouldn’t know that because you’ve been too busy mooning after Cade and spending time with me to bother with her.”

   
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