Virgin Seeks Bad Boy (Bliss River #3) - Lili Valente Page 0,14
front stoop, a bag of fresh bagels in one hand and two tubs of flavored cream cheese in the other.
Aria opens the door, a surprised smile on her face. She’s still in her pajama shorts and a tank top and her long, wild red hair hasn’t been brushed, but she looks happy to see me.
Still, I feel compelled to ask, “Is this a bad time? Am I too early? I can come back later if I’m too early.”
“Don’t be silly, come in! We’re just having a lazy morning. Nothing bagels and a sister can’t improve on.” She motions me inside and leads the way to the kitchen, past the living room where her husband, Nash, and Felicity, Aria’s baby from her first marriage, are playing with toys on the floor.
Felicity looks up, spots me, and gives a happy squeal that goes straight to my heart. God, I love that kid. She’s just the best.
“Hey, baby girl,” I say, pointing the bag her way. “Guess what I brought? Bagels!”
Her eyes light up and she bounces on her diapered booty, clapping her hands with the kind of excitement grown-ups reserve for winning the lottery. Ah, to be a baby and thrilled by simple pleasures.
“I call all the garlic bagels!” Nash says, lifting a hand my way with a grin. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” I say, a little unnerved by that grin.
Nash and Nick are brothers, but they don’t look that much alike—Nash is taller, broader, more muscled, and much more conservative in his dress and habits. The don’t even sound alike. Nash has his mama’s southern twang, while Nick seems to have lost any drawl he might have had after living in the city. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t even think they were related.
At least, not unless I saw them grinning side by side.
They have the exact same smile, the one that was on Nick’s face last night when he assured me he didn’t mind coming back to my place.
Ugh.
“You can’t have all the garlic bagels,” Aria says, hustling back into the living room and snatching the bag from my hand. “If you’re eating garlic; I’m eating garlic. Otherwise, I’m not kissing you until the stink wears off.”
“Fate worse than death,” Nash says, grin widening as he meets his wife’s eyes.
Ugh again. I want to be grinned at like that. I really, really do.
“Then I’ll take one garlic,” he amends, “one plain, and Skeeter and I will split a cinnamon raisin.”
“Eet eet!” Felicity cries out and reaches for Nash to pick her up.
“I didn’t know she could say ‘eat’ now!” I turn to Aria with an excited smile. Felicity’s only had three words for a while—"mama,” “no,” and “deer”—but I can’t wait for her to have more. I want to know all the thoughts racing through her squirrely little head. I have a feeling my niece is going to be a hoot to talk to once she can communicate.
“She doesn’t. That’s how she says ‘Skeeter.’” Aria shoots Nash a mock glare as he passes her on the way to the kitchen, Felicity babbling happily in his arms. “Nash’s delightful nickname seems to have stuck.”
“It is a delightful nickname,” Nash says. “Isn’t it Skeeter?”
“Eet!” Felicity shouts with such enthusiasm I can’t help but laugh.
Aria sighs and rolls her eyes, but she isn’t fooling anyone. I’ve never seen my sister this happy. She and Nash are made for each other, and the family they’ve created together is something really special.
“Come on.” Aria loops an arm around my waist. “Help me get some of these in the toaster oven. I’ll make coffee and then we can go out on the patio and have a talk.”
“How did you know I came to talk?” I ask, letting myself be led into the sun-drenched kitchen, where Nash and Aria’s paintings fill the walls, leaving no doubt that two artists are in residence, even if one of them happens to be a police captain and the other a pastry chef.
“I’m psychic,” she says with a mischievous grin. “And you’re never out of bed before nine on a Saturday unless you’re upset about something.”
“She’s wise, this one.” Nash settles Felicity into her highchair and crosses to take Aria in his arms and press a kiss to the top of her head.
The moment is so sweet and loving that my heart lurches in my chest, happiness for my sister warring with the miserable certainty that I’m never going to find a love like Nash and Aria’s.