Fuel the Fire (47 page)

“Hardly,” I say. “You’re still on the bottom.”

He rests his elbows on the bar counter. “Technically…I am your boss.”

I knew he was going to throw this into the universe one day. “You promised you would never say that if I came on board with Calloway Couture Babies.”

“I also don’t keep three-fourths of my promises, Rose.” Obviously. He’s not my husband.

I let out a breath, dusting my hands off for the umpteenth time. “I only have to ignore Connor for twenty-four hours. He’ll survive.”

Ryke gives me a look. “We don’t think he’s going to fucking die from it. He’s just not himself.” He shrugs. “He usually spends five fucking minutes trying to get me to hold a conversation and banter back, not shut me down before I even speak.”

“Just text him,” Loren combats.

“Focus on your pepperoni, Loren,” I reply icily.

Ryke notices me scrubbing the counter
again
. “Let’s trade.” He sets down his knife and the pepper.

“I can do this just fine,” I argue.

“I’m not saying that you can’t, but at this rate, we’re not going to be eating dinner until tomorrow morning and I’m fucking hungry.”

It’s hard surrendering a task, even something as simple as this. I’m still clinging to things I can achieve, control and master when the paparazzi have made that difficult for me.

Ryke says, “I’m not stomping on your territory. Just let me roll the fucking dough.”

I hesitantly relinquish this job, cleaning my hands on a towel again. I’m not one of those people who can smear flour on an apron. Mine is too pretty for stains.

We switch places at the same time, and Lo says, “I have to ask you something.” I think he might be speaking to his brother, but when I look up, his eyes are set on me.

His sharp cheekbones become more defined, guards lifting as though this is serious.

“And…?” I wait for the bomb.
Don’t let Lily be pregnant. Don’t let Lily be pregnant.
I cannot imagine a pregnant sister in the media shit storm right now. I’ll have a coronary every time we leave the house, worried that someone will bump into her too hard or knock her down. I’m sure her mental state won’t be any better.

“The press keep questioning Willow at Superheroes & Scones,” he says. “They think she’s my cousin, so they’re going after anyone remotely close to you and Connor for answers.”

His half-sister is accessible, or at least more so than the rest of us who hide behind bodyguards and gates.

“Yesterday, she was followed back to her apartment,” Loren adds.

My jaw unhinges. That’s unacceptable. “By who?” I ask, ready to hunt them down with pitchforks. I may not be Willow’s closest friend, but she’s family by extension of Loren. I’d use every tool I have in my arsenal to protect her, just as I would him.

“You can put away your talons. I already tracked down the guy and threatened to have him arrested for stalking.”

“
We
,” Ryke clarifies. He was in on it too.

Lo nods. “I really don’t think it’s safe for her right now.”

There’s a clear solution. “We have three vacant guest rooms on the east wing. She can choose hers.” We bought an eight-bedroom mansion for a reason—we knew these rooms would fill up. Maybe more so by our children, but when your long lost half-sister stops by, a room should always be available.

“Are you sure? You can think about it.” He’s being considerate because of my “battered” face and the stress of the media. Otherwise, I doubt he’d ask.

“She’s your family. What is there to think about?” I cut the core out of the pepper and scrape the seeds into the trash bin.

“Thanks,” he nods a couple times. “I’ll ask her to move in tomorrow. I’m pretty sure she’ll say yes this time.” She chose not to live with him in the beginning, but she should be more comfortable now that she’s gotten to know him and us.

I slice the pepper perfectly even. “I don’t know why Lily calls us the hot-tempered triad,” I tell them. “We’re all really civil right now, especially since we’re all armed.”

Ryke raises his
empty
hands. His biceps flex at the motion, wearing a sleeveless gray shirt.

“Your muscles are weapons,” I retort. It sounds dumb, even if it’s logical. He has a lean build from running and climbing, but his muscles are so defined that it’s hard to imagine an ounce of body fat.

“Jesus Christ, don’t compliment his muscles,” Lo says. “He’s unnatural.”

Connor comes close, but his brains are sexier than anything else he has.

“I’m a fucking athlete,” Ryke refutes. “And your wife made a lame name for us.”

“Hey”—Loren points his knife at Ryke this time—“don’t insult Lily.”

“Hot-tempered…whatever the fuck. I can’t even finish it.”

“Don’t be an ass,” I tell Ryke.

He extends his arms at me. “You were just fucking agreeing with me, were you not?”

“I changed my mind,” I say. “I’m allowed to do that.” I will
always
side with my sisters…unless they’re against my daughter. Then I will side with Jane, but she’s too young to be a part of these matches.

I’m excited for the day when she discovers her own voice. I won’t bar her from having opinions or choices—and I know it doesn’t seem important, but I can’t wait to see what kind of fashion she leans towards, to see if her tastes diverge from mine.

I think I’d love that, to see her grow into her own being without my constant influence. It’s something my mother never liked from us.

I finish cutting the last pepper and hand Ryke the jar of marinara sauce. “Speaking of my sisters…”

He meets my eyes. “We were only talking about Lily, not all of your sisters.” I’m about to retract the jar, but he yanks it out of my grasp and unscrews the lid.

I can’t back down now. “How are you and Daisy?”

“We’re fucking fine.” He shrugs and searches for a spatula. It’s that movement, the
shrug
, that has me crossing my arms.

“Just fine?” I wonder. I could ask Daisy, but she always says the same thing.

He lets out a frustrated groan, banging a drawer closed. Then he runs his hands through his hair. When he exhales, he says, “The last time I talked about my relationship, I was given a twenty-minute lecture about taking a break from her. So yeah, I’m not too fucking chatty about it.”

My gaze narrows. “Poppy?” I’m aware of my sister’s protest to Daisy being with Ryke because of “timing” she’s told me.

He nods once.

Loren reaches across the bar and plucks out a spatula from the utensil holder. It’s sitting right in front of Ryke. He passes it to his older brother. “What’s her problem?” Lo asks.

“Apparently she took a year-long break from Sam during their first year of college, and she said it helped her put into perspective what she fucking wanted out of life. Poppy wants me to give Daisy the chance to ‘find herself’ before committing to something serious.” He spreads sauce over the dough. “The thing is: Daisy and I—we’ve both been alone more than
anyone
in this fucking house, and if I truly thought that was what Daisy wanted, I’d break up with her tomorrow so she could be happy. Even if I’d be fucking miserable.”

“Rose was a virgin until she was twenty-three,” Loren pipes in. “I think she beats you on the
alone
thing, bro.”

“He’s not talking about sex, Loren.”

Lo ignores me and focuses on his brother. “Are you sure she doesn’t want a break?”

“I’m telling you, I keep asking her—to the point of annoyance—just to make sure, and she keeps saying no.” Daisy hasn’t discussed the topic with me, but I can’t see my little sister lying to Ryke just to pacify him.

“What’s Daisy annoyed look like?” Lo pops another pepperoni in his mouth. I’ve never seen that sentiment from my sister either.

“Frazzled. She’ll try to distract me off topic, and then when she gives up, she’ll say
please stop
in this really pained voice, like I’m crushing glass in her ears. It fucking sucks.”

It reminds me that he’s been with her for a year and a half. “You don’t have to take a break just because my older sister tells you it’s right,” I say. “It was right for Poppy and Sam, but that doesn’t make it right for you and Daisy. Every relationship is different.”

It’s easy to weigh personal experiences against other people’s relationships, but we can’t see the ins and outs and complexities of other couples the way that we understand and live through our own.

Ryke nods. “I know, but I want to marry that girl one day. And it just really fucking sucks—because I’d get down on one knee tomorrow if people in her family didn’t hate us together.”

I gape, my mouth falling further and further.
He wants to marry Daisy. He wants to marry my baby sister.
I haven’t been sure whether he even values marriage because he never talks about it to anyone.

But his opinion makes sense to me now. I’ve never seen him so infatuated and head-over-heels in love with someone the way that he is with Daisy. And he craves familial companionship since he didn’t have any growing up. So it’s not hard to believe he’d want his own someday.

My cold heart unthaws—that is, before Lo’s voice freezes it back over.

“When have other people’s opinions ever stopped you?” Lo asks.
That actually wasn’t so bad.

Ryke heads to the fridge. “Daisy cares, and if she cares, then I fucking care.” He grabs a bag of mozzarella and returns to the pizza. “Weddings and proposals—those are supposed to be
happy
experiences. I don’t want anyone’s judgment ruining that. Daisy deserves one day that belongs to her without any drama, and I can’t give her that yet.” He shakes his head. “It’s all just bad fucking timing. With everything.”

Because of the shit storm.

He has no idea if he’ll be able to propose, ever. “Fate will be in your favor,” I tell him.

“Rose thinks she can predict the future now,” Lo mocks.

“I just have hope, Loren,” I say. “Where’s yours?”

Lo smiles, not a bitter one this time. “If I can be sober and raise a kid, I think anything’s possible.”

Ryke motions to Lo’s cutting board, only four thick pieces of pepperoni sliced. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking my time,” Lo says. “And in the spirit of bad timing, I think we need to call a house meeting. I have something else I need to discuss.”

I frown. “Right now?”

“Since everyone seems so willing to share, yeah, right now.” He raises his brows. “You need me to text your husband for you?”

I roll my eyes but don’t answer him.

“I’ll take your silence as a
yes, of course, I love you, Loren Hale.
”

“Don’t make me use this knife on you.” I wave it threateningly, but he’s too preoccupied with his cellphone to make a snarky remark. Whatever he wants to talk about…I think it may be serious.

[ 43 ]

ROSE COBALT

“Can you both put the weapons away before we start the meeting?” Lily bounces Moffy on her hip, her eyes darting between Lo and me.

I brace my knife less like a kitchen utensil and more like artillery. It doesn’t help that Connor is here now, securing Jane in her highchair. I slyly look his way, expecting him to steal a glance at me in return.

He doesn’t.

Ignoring him is taking more effort than I ever thought it would.

Coconut eats out of her bowl next to the breakfast table, and Daisy slides onto the stool beside Loren. We’re all here, the pizza baking and infusing pepperoni and cheese flavors in the air. It takes Loren a long while to actually drop his knife, and I realize that my grip is just as tight as before.

Lily says, “You too, Rose.”

Fine. I gently set the knife in its holder. Then I fetch Jane’s food. I chopped kiwi earlier into cube-sized pieces, and so I collect that from the fridge and scoop some yogurt into a tiny bowl. The hard part is approaching Jane’s highchair with Connor so close.

He looks over his shoulder at me, and I whip my head in the other direction, just barely catching the quirk of his lips. I will not fail at ignoring him.
You can do this, Rose.

I slide the kiwi and yogurt to Daisy. “Give this to Connor,” I instruct. Then I add the perfunctory, “Please.” Although my
pleases
never sound as soft and inviting as others.

Daisy hops off the bar stool without hesitation. “You’re still ignoring him?” I let my sisters in on my business earlier today.

“Until ten a.m. tomorrow,” I say.

“This is ridiculous,” Loren pipes in, watching my little sister hand off Jane’s food to my husband. When I glance at him again, his deep blue eyes are pinned on me, his grin escalating
every
time we make contact. His expression says,
you can’t look away, can you, Rose?

I can.

Watch me. I focus on Loren and his sharp jawline and half-grimace that practically says,
ew, why the hell are you staring at me?

“There have to be repercussions for losing,” I tell my brother-in-law. “So no, it’s not ridiculous,
Loren
. It’s the price of failure.”

Connor says, “It’s hardly a failure when there were distractions.”

I snort. “Loren, tell Richard that one wrong question still means he lost, and that he’s the one who says ‘distraction’ is a word that ‘losers’ use to make themselves feel better.” I have to keep my back to Connor, even if I ache to turn around and glare in his direction.

Loren opens his mouth, but Connor speaks before he can even reiterate.

“My wife being injured unquestionably ranks above a competitor sneezing during a quiz bowl tournament.”

I can’t argue this. Someone’s seasonal allergies did fuck with my concentration during academic bowls in college, and he’ll never let me live it down.

I growl. “Loren, tell Connor that I know his overinflated ego can’t handle the word
failure
but by its definition, it still applies.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Lo interjects. “Both of you shut up.”

I only comply because he lets out a heavy breath, and I remember that
he
called this meeting and gathered everyone together.