Happily Ever All-Star: A Secret Baby Romance - Sosie Frost Page 0,318

to chop.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Just remember for next time.”

“Next time?” Lachlan grinned, spooning the remaining sauce into the blender. “So…there will be a next time.”

“You said three dates. You still get two.”

“Gimme a do-over for this one.”

“You think you deserve a do-over?”

He flipped on the blender without checking the lid.

A scalding hot spray of Italian shrapnel splattered over the kitchen. Sebastian and Lachlan shouted and dove to the floor.

The eruption of marinara sauce rained from above, soaking me in thick, hot, pastey tomato juice, seeds, and chunks of molten onion.

Lachlan leapt over the blender, stopping the spinning and slamming the lid on tight.

This was the second time I had been covered in a foul, chunky substance in a week.

I held my arms out, dripping marinara. A glob traced over my cheek. The rest somehow all rolled down my chest into a dress I knew revealed too much cleavage.

Lachlan didn’t even pretend to hide his grin.

“Yes, Red. I would love a do-over for tonight.”

8

Lachlan

Elle hadn’t spoken.

Of course, Sebastian and I laughed our asses off. That didn’t help.

A blob of marinara sauce plunged from the ceiling onto her arm. Her dress was ruined. Her hair was sticky. And she was still hungry.

Fucking great start to our first date.

I piled a heaping spoonful of spaghetti onto a plate for Sebastian, dished him some of the chunkless sauce that remained in the blender, and handed him a fork.

“Little man, eat.” I turned to Elle. “Red, let me get you out of that dress.”

She wanted to scold me, but Sebastian was at that blissfully ignorant stage—kinda like a parrot where he’d repeat whatever I didn’t want him to say without understanding any of it. She tiptoed through the hall as the sauce threatened to drip. Nothing a wash cloth and change of clothes couldn’t fix.

And I knew just what I’d have her wear.

I handed her a pair of boxers she could use for shorts. At least I’d get to see some leg. But I liked the spare shirt I had more. She smiled as I gave her one of my new jerseys to wear—the black and gold with the number eighty-three embroidered on the back.

“You know,” I said. “When I’d imagined this evening, I imagined stripping you down for the night.”

But maybe not wringing dinner out of her skirt.

Elle’s little pout was a tease. “You’ve imagined far more than just stripping me.”

“You got me. I also wanted to pin you against the wall, rip your panties away, and ravish you like an animal.”

She slammed the bathroom door in my face and rinsed her dress in the sink. “Whatever happened to a handshake and a kiss good night?”

“We are so far beyond a handshake, Red. If you only knew where my hands had been.” I grinned as she returned, drowning in my oversized clothes and looking goddamned adorable. “Well, I guess you have a good idea.”

“You have got to behave.”

“Admit it. We’ve done some dirty things.”

“And you don’t feel the least bit of remorse for it?”

“Remorse?” I laughed. “Christ, I revisit that weekend anytime I’m in the shower.”

“For the team’s sake, I hope you aren’t reminiscing at training camp.”

“I got other memories from that particular shower.” I licked my lips. “Tasty memories.”

“If you don’t put that tongue back in your mouth and behave, I’ll make you choke on a noodle.”

“I love it when you take a firm hand with me.”

The kitchen was a disaster as half of our dinner was sprayed across the walls and ceiling. Sebastian kicked his legs and ate his dinner. He shoved one bite into his mouth, chewed, and pushed the plate away.

“Done,” he said.

I loved this kid, but I wasn’t above force-feeding him. “You’re done?”

“Yep.”

Only a quarter of his spaghetti was gone. “You’re gonna be hungry later.”

“Will not. Can I play Minecraft?”

My stomach rumbled. I grabbed his plate and waved him to my X-Box. At least I’d tried. It was close enough to his bedtime that he probably wouldn’t get hungry again. I’d make him breakfast in the morning before taking him to kindergarten. God willing, he still ate eggs without complaint.

Elle fixed her own plate. She sat across from me, nibbling on a noodle, and nodded her approval.

What was sexier? A woman dressed up in a cock-maddening dress that hugged her dark curves, or a sexy woman wearing my jersey lounging in my kitchen?

I could get used to both sides of her.

“This wasn’t the fun-filled, magical dinner I’d planned.” I opened a bottle of wine and offered her a glass. “This dinner