Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,316

search for any homemade marinara sauce. “Maybe we can fake it.”

“Let’s get this straight right now,” Lachlan said. “No woman has ever faked anything with me.”

“A bold claim.”

“Help me make the spaghetti, and I’ll prove it.”

“I don’t know…” I paused over a recipe that didn’t look too complicated. “That’s a pretty big favor.”

“You should know I’m a very gracious host.”

“That I seem to remember.”

Sebastian groaned and tipped over his salt shaker. “I’m hungry. Can I have the sketti please?”

“Coming right up, little man. Right, Elle?”

“First time for everything,” I said. “See if you can’t find garlic and an onion.”

His personal chef deserved a raise. Lachlan found a heavy yellow onion and a head of garlic from his pantry, and I returned with two cans of tomatoes.

Sebastian amused himself on Lachlan’s phone as we stared at the ingredients on the cutting board.

“We need to chop this onion,” I said.

“Can’t be that hard.”

“Where are your knives?”

An excellent question. Lachlan rubbed the scruff on his chin.

“Well…” He opened a couple drawers and peeked in a cupboard. “Here’s the thing. I just moved in here. Like, the day before training camp.”

“And?”

“Well, I haven’t spent a lot of time here.”

“And?”

“My chef brings his own knives.”

“You don’t have your own cutlery?”

“Um…” He searched through the drawers before pulling a bag of plastic utensils. “Here!”

Fantastic.

I tested the knife on the onion. No dice. Literally. The little teeth of the butter knife wouldn’t cut through the skin.

Lachlan pulled a plastic fork from the bag. “Lemme try. You’ll need some muscle.”

He gripped the onion in one hand. With the other, he launched for the flesh, stabbing through the onion with the tines of the fork like a meth-head vampire-slayer aiming for the kill.

“Muscle?” I ducked out of the way as a hunk of dripping onion hurled through the air, smacked the fridge, and tumbled to the floor. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Nah, I’ve got it.”

He stabbed again, pulverizing the inside of the onion. The bulb shredded, but it spit. A glob of onion juice spurted directly into Lachlan’s eye.

He sputtered, clutching his face. “Jesus—”

I interrupted him. “There’s a child!”

“Crickets.”

Sebastian laughed. “I don’t want to eat crickets!”

Lachlan blinked with a hiss. “We’re about to eat you for dinner if you don’t stop laughing, little man.”

“Na-uh.”

Lachlan grumbled as I took over onion-duty. “Sure, I’ll stuff you in a stew. Tuck you in a pot and turn up the heat.”

“You wouldn’t eat me!”

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He broke off a chunk of garlic in his hands. “You’re too scrawny, and I got a big appetite.” He stared at me, a hungry smile growing. “You can have the spaghetti. I’ll eat Elle.”

“You’re so bad.” I aimed our onion-shredder at him. “Don’t start.”

“Start what? I just want a little nibble.”

“Don’t.”

“Just a taste.”

“Hush.”

“How about if I give you a little lick?”

Sebastian shouted, leaping over the counter. “Run, Elle! Before he eats you!”

Lachlan loved the chase. He growled and dove for me. The onion made a terrible weapon, and I didn’t have a chance to bolt. Sebastian shouted for me to follow him into the living room.

I didn’t make it.

Lachlan was very quick when an opportunity to eat presented itself.

He grabbed me before I darted from the kitchen and captured me in his arms. Strong arms. Arms that pinned me against his chest, so close I could only stare into his brilliantly green eyes.

“Got you.” He whispered. “And I’ll devour you whole.”

I clocked him with the onion, but he didn’t let me go.

“Do you surrender, or do I have to start nibbling?”

My breath trapped in my chest. I didn’t answer. Sebastian scuffed his way back to the room, covering his eyes.

“Gross! You’re gonna kiss her!”

Among other things if I gave him a chance. I pushed away, but Lachlan leapt for Sebastian instead.

“Not if I kiss you first!”

Both boys screamed and tore through the house, leaving me with a fork, an onion, and absolutely no plan as to how I was going to cook a dinner without proper utensils.

I held the onion with a tea-towel as Lachlan chased Sebastian through the kitchen three times, circling the island before launching into the living room, crashing into the couch, and knocking over a table.

Lachlan called for a truce, Sebastian tossed a pillow, and the war was on.

Lachlan grabbed the kid and carried him, struggling, onto the patio and toward the pool. Sebastian shouted Uncle from the edge of Lachlan’s diving board.

I’d managed to pulverize half of the onion, sawing through the rings with the tines of the