“Kiss you,” I finish for her. “Make you moan into my mouth and grind your greedy little pussy on my leg?”
Her blush spreads all the way down her neck, and I growl, imagining how far below her neckline it goes. She doesn’t give me a chance to talk her into letting me find out, though, swiping my shirt off the floor.
“Let’s just forget this ever happened.” Leighton slaps the polo against my chest, scowling. “Go back to ignoring me, Knox.” She marches down the hallway, away from me. “It’s the only way we’re going to survive the stupid summer together.”
I watch her go, my eyes burning into the back of her until she disappears around the corner. But there is no forgetting what happened. No ignoring anything about her. Not now that I’ve claimed that pouty mouth like it’s mine to claim.
By the time the door at the end of the main hallway slams shut, I groan and walk back to my office. With any chance of focus shattered, I only stop in long enough to grab my keys and lock up. I might not have planned on going to the staff cabin party tonight, but it sounds better than an awkward night at the house with Leighton and our parents.
I’m almost out of the administration building when I hear my name come from the last office. Given my massive erection still hanging out from the hallway, I can’t think of anyone worse to talk to right now than Millie. Not that she hasn’t seen my dick before, but it was far less impressive when she changed my diapers.
I readjust and take a deep breath, backtracking and nudging the door to the HR office the rest of the way open. “Can whatever it is wait until tomorrow? I’m over it today.”
As if it could be that easy, Millie crooks her finger at me. “I’ve been over it for years, my darling. Learn to fake it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I sigh, bracing my arm on the doorframe.
The head of Haven Cove’s HR—and the whole department—gives me a sweet look. “You look tired. Are you drinking enough water?”
I snort, shaking my head. “Did you call me in here for any specific reason?”
Millie might have stopped being our nanny about a decade ago, but I swear she’d still tuck me and Kennedy into bed if we let her. Before we came along, she worked as our dad’s assistant. Once we graduated from having our booboos kissed, dad had a new one, but Millie wasn’t going anywhere by that point.
She has the grandma vibe down with her salt and pepper hair pulled into a bun, and when she narrows her eyes at me, she slides her glasses down her nose. “Wanting to see you isn’t enough of a reason?”
I straighten up, threatening to leave, and she throws her hands in the air.
“Fine. Yes, there’s a reason.” She gets up from her roller chair and crosses to a box by the window. “I know you said to cancel the order, but they sent these anyway.”
I already know what she’s talking about, and I shake my head before she brings the box over. “Send them back. Get a refund.”
She drums her fingers on the cardboard, studying me. “Is it a girl?”
My eyebrows lower. “What have I ever done in my life to make you think I’d tell you if it was?”
“I gave up children for you, you know?” she says, but then her lips twitch, and I nod, backing out.
“So you’ve said, about a million times.”
She winks at me before I turn. “Eat your veggies,” she calls in a sing-song voice.
I fish my phone from my pocket as I leave the building. It went off right before I chased Leighton’s voice into the hall. My eyebrows shoot up at the text my old man sent.
I’m surprising Sidney with a test run of the honeymoon suite. Counting on you to help Leighton settle in tonight.
As I climb into my golf cart to head to the house, I chuckle.
“Yeah, Dad,” I mumble to myself, steering toward the course, “great idea.”
Leave me in a massive house for an entire weekend with the one person who will be my undoing. And without a buffer since Kennedy won’t give a fuck what’s going on. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
When I pull up to the house, he already has their matching cobalt blue luggage set by his BMW. I duck through the driver door and pop the trunk when Sidney comes through the door, lugging an overnight bag. Being a properly raised gentleman from years at boarding school—minus the two they sent me here to start this whole mess in the first place—I meet her halfway to take it.
“Let me help,” I say.
She smiles, her eyes lighting up. “Thank you, Knox. Your father has no idea how to treat a woman, making me carry my own bags.”
I highly doubt he had much say in the matter at all. From what I’ve seen, Leighton inherited more than the color of her irises and extra long legs from her mother. Stubbornness and fierce independence also came in the package.
I sling her bag over my shoulder as my dad appears in the doorway.
“Of course, she lets you carry it,” he mutters, following me to the car. He sets the other suitcases beside her bag, and I slam the trunk.
Sidney sidles up beside him and wraps her arms around his middle as he kisses the top of her head with a grin on his face. A little known secret about Brent Cabot, ruthless business man and heavy hitter, he has a squishy-ass marshmallow center when it comes to Sidney and Kennedy—Leighton, too, given the way his face softens anytime I’ve seen them in the same room.
“You ready?” he asks, rubbing her shoulder.
“Yeah…” Sidney glances at the open gate at the end of the drive. “Hopefully we’ll meet Leighton on the way, so I can beg for her forgiveness over bailing the first weekend she’s at the house.”
“She’ll have Kennedy,” Dad says to reassure her before she changes their plans. “And Knox.” He sets a serious stare on me. “Right, son?”
Teddy bear for them and hard ass with me, but like water on a duck, it rolls right down my back and into the pond.
“She’s in good hands, Sidney.” I give her a wink and start toward the house.
The tires crunch asphalt as I walk in, leaving the door open for a construction worker on his way down the stairs. Kennedy bounds down behind him, her dark hair in waves that bounce with her.
She lifts her brows, the only indication she even notices me on her way to the kitchen. My sister doesn’t have a resting bitch face, hers defaults to a look of pure I don’t give a fuck. I wouldn’t call our relationship apathetic—we have a mutual respect for each other’s personal shit, just don’t feel a need to be involved in it.
It probably comes from only spending holidays together for so many years. We texted the need to know, video chatted for anything that required us to team up, which mostly included which way to point our mother for vacation, so we could enjoy her Manhattan penthouse for winter break. As far as her crying on my shoulder over a guy or the chance I would vent to her about Dad being up my ass constantly, nah. Not for us.
“You get our marching orders to make Leighton feel at home tonight?” I ask over my shoulder.
“Do you need help with a welcome banner for our future stepsister?” She cranes her neck around, her lips twitching. “If not, I’m going back to the office to get some work done. It is the middle of the day, you know?”