Targeted Risk (R.I.S.C. #7) - Anna Blakely Page 0,8
girl’s soft, sweet warmth. His lips pressed against the smooth skin on her rosy cheeks, the smell of baby lotion filling his nostrils as he held her close to his chest.
“She loves you so much.” Olivia beamed up at him. “So do I.”
“What’s not to love?” Mike downplayed his sister’s sentimental comments, but then he locked his gaze with the beautiful bundle in his arms.
Lilly’s round, brown eyes—ones that matched her mother’s to a T—lit up. She squealed and flailed her chubby little arms about as she reached toward his face. Before she could dig her tiny but sharp nails into his chin, Mike gently turned her small wrist in order to kiss Lilly’s palm.
“Uncle Mikey loves you, too, Bug.”
Growing up, he’d called Olivia Junebug. First as a joke due to her aversion to the brown, crunchy creatures but then as a term of true endearment. When Lilly was born, he could instantly see she was the mini version of her mother, so he decided to give the baby the shortened version of the same nickname.
With another squeal, he kissed Lilly’s forehead before handing her back over to her mother.
“I think this bug needs a bath before bedtime.” Olivia smiled up at him. “Wanna do the honors, Uncle Mikey?”
“Actually, I think I’m gonna head out.”
“Already?”
Jake laughed. “That’s what I said. I think your brother may have lost his edge in his old age.”
“Old age, my ass.” Mike scowled playfully at his friend. “I could still whip you.”
“Still?” Jake raised a dark brow. “Funny. I don’t recall you having whipped me any other time.”
“Hmm...” Mike pretended to act concerned. “Maybe my sister should be more concerned about your memory loss than my edge.”
The group laughed as the two men continued bantering back and forth for a good minute before Mike finally called it a night.
“Come on.” Jake slapped Mike on the back. “I’ll walk you out.”
Giving his sister one last hug, Mike said his goodbyes and followed his brother-in-law to the front door. Still giving a polite nod and a wave, he did his best to ignore the scene playing out at the table to his right.
Poker game momentarily forgotten, the other R.I.S.C. wives in attendance had left their spots by the fireplace to join their husbands, Trevor and Grant.
Lexi, Trevor’s wife, was sitting on his lap and laughing while Brynnon, Grant’s very pregnant wife, was smiling as her husband ran his big hand over her swollen belly.
The entire scene looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell postcard. One Mike wished he and Juliet could be painted into.
Enough, already! Christ, man. You’re like a pathetic broken record.
The voice was right. He needed to move on. Needed to forget all about Juliet Farrow and their make-believe love story. What they had was long gone. She was long gone, and everything they’d shared had been based on nothing but lies.
Not all of it was a lie.
No, what Mike felt for the sweet interior decorator was the most real thing he’d ever felt in his life. And what sucked huge ass donkey balls was Mike was sure she was on the same page as him.
“Okay, spill it. What’s going on with you?” Jake asked the second they stepped out onto his covered porch. “Is this all too much too soon?”
“What? No.” He shook his head then blew out a breath. “Sorry.”
“Quit fucking telling me you’re sorry, and talk to me.”
Shit. Rubbing a hand over his smooth jaw—something he still wasn’t quite used to having—Mike walked over to the edge of the porch. Resting his hands on the railing, he looked out over the impressive piece of land his friend owned.
“You’ve really built something special here, Jake.”
“Thanks. From what you’ve said, you have damn near all of your CIA paychecks stored away in the bank. You could have something like this, too.”
“I’m not just talking about the house.” He turned his head toward his friend. “I mean all of it. The house and the land are great. But you’ve also got Liv and Lillian to share it with. Hell, you’ve got the whole package, man.”
“You could have that, too, if you’d...I don’t know...maybe try going on a date sometime.”
Mike couldn’t help but smile. “I’m good but thanks.”
“You’re a shitty liar.”
“A decade of successful undercover work says otherwise.”
“Okay, fine. You’re a shitty liar when you’re trying to lie to me.” Jake leaned a shoulder on the nearest porch pole and crossed his arms at his chest. “Seriously, Mike. Things are going great with the team