accent standing out. He was the only one in our immediate family who had one. My aunt had bewitched him, so he said, while she'd been visiting some relatives in Ireland. At the beginning of their romance, his accent had used to be so thick, she could barely understand him. Pulled by love, he of course had followed her back to the States, which over time had helped to soften his words.
I stepped out of our hug. “How’s Aunt Kiara?”
“She’s doing grand. She’s mad with joy that you’re back home and was talking about visiting soon.”
“That’d be wonderful. I’d love to see her.”
“Are you hungry?” Stefan asked, already knowing the answer. I didn’t like eating early in the morning unless I absolutely had to. I preferred to wake up and move around first.
I scrunched my nose. “Coffee?”
Stefan tilted his head toward the kitchen. I ventured off in that direction, through the swinging door. The gigantic gourmet kitchen was L-shaped, equipped with two restaurant grade gas stovetops, four ovens, a walk-in refrigerator, and a temperature-controlled pantry. The cabinets were navy blue with beautiful white quartz countertops. The room was filled with natural light coming in through the large window above the kitchen sink and the glass door leading out to the pool in the backyard. At the sink with her back toward me, Jeana was humming while washing the pots and pans she'd used to cook breakfast.
“Can I help you?” a feminine voice asked, tone far from friendly. My attention snapped to the large kitchen island where a pretty blonde was leaning over with a magazine open in front of her. This must be Angela.
Damnit. She was gorgeous. She had wavy golden hair that shone in the sunlight. Her lips were plump and heart shaped. Her makeup was flawless and made her tawny-brown eyes pop. Hell, if she and I were cellmates in prison, I’d totally want her to be my bitch. That didn’t bode well for this family and, well… me. I could already tell that she and I weren’t going to get along.
Her sleeping with Louie irked me. Thinking about her poaching anyone else in my family was making me feel extremely territorial—er, I mean fiercely protective. I wonder what she’d look like if I ripped out all that pretty hair. It was an appealing thought. I'd done it to my Barbies as a little girl and she closely resembled one of the plastic dolls before it had left its protective box. Maybe it was a sign? Bitch better not hang up on me again or I'm going to make a generous donation to Locks of Love.
I forced a smile. “No,” I replied, making my way to the coffee pot on the counter behind her.
“Maura! Good morning, sweetie. I put some leftovers in the fridge. When you get hungry, let me know and I’ll reheat them,” Jeana informed me with a bright smile, then returned to the dishes.
I could feel Angela’s eyes digging holes into my back as I fixed my coffee. I was stirring in vanilla creamer when I heard the door from the dining room swing open.
“Jameson! That’s my job, silly. You didn’t have to bring that in here,” Maid Barbie said.
I pursed my lips at how overly friendly she was toward him. With a schooled expression, I turned and propped a hip against the counter. I watched Jamie stride through the room. He placed his plate and silverware next to the sink.
Jeana beamed at him with her motherly smile. “Thanks, sweetie!”
With his coffee mug still in his hand, I had a hunch where Jamie was headed next and I was blocking his way. His brows rose in question before his head tilted slightly. Refusing to move, I teased him with a mischievous smirk. “Want some coffee, big guy?” The corner of his mouth twitched. Placing my mug on the counter, I stepped closer, shrinking the space between us. “How bad do you want it?” I used a sultry voice as I cocked an eyebrow.
Thinking he was being clever, he sat his mug on the counter and picked up mine. The tiniest sip made him grimace.
“You put too much creamer in it,” he complained, scrunching his nose.
“Not everyone likes their coffee black,” I informed, grabbing his mug to fill it. I wiggled my fingers, gesturing for him to give me mine in exchange for his. He eagerly traded.
“What are you doing today?” I asked.
His gaze shifted to Angela, who was pretending to ignore us. I didn’t like