Lex(131)
“Hello, Princess.” I kiss her cheek.
“Daddy said you’d be here.”
Gage strolls into the plain, light blue walled country kitchen, looking mighty fine in his low slung designer jeans, and a long-sleeved royal blue button-down shirt, rolled up his tattooed forearms. “She almost didn’t come in.”
Emma innocently questions, “Why?”
“I was nervous.”
“There’s nothing to be nervous about.” Another husky, masculine voice explains, as he too enters the kitchen. Crowding the already small space even further, walking a few steps closer, the man I’ve never officially met. Who I recognize as Gage’s brother Maxwell, extends his hand in greeting. “It’s a pleasure, Lex. I’m Max, Gage’s, older, unattached, brother.”
No sooner does his greeting pass his lips when a hand suddenly blurs by my line of sight, landing loudly on the back of Max’s head and he scowls. “What the hell was that for Tasha?”
“Unattached brother? She’s not single, stop flirting.” Tasha chastises and Max retracts his hand before I get a chance to shake it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Gage, his jaw is tight as a vice, and the veins in his long strong neck are bulging. Guess this isn’t a happy meeting after all. Confirming why I shouldn’t have come in the first place.
“Emma, darling, go play with the boys and Daddy, and Daddy, go play with your daughter. Lex and I need some girl time.” Tasha orders, taking Emma out of my arms and sweetly putting her down. “Now shoo, all of you. We have some cooking to do.” She pushes them all out of the kitchen with her hands and I watch Gage leave. Passing by him on her own way into the kitchen, Chelsea blatantly checks him out, even turning her head to watch him walk away, her eyes landing on his firm ass. Making me want to claw her damn eyes out for basically undressing him in her mind. What. A. Bitch!
With a snarky smile, the woman I know as Chelsea that I have officially decided I already hate, comes into the kitchen and walks over to the fridge. A hand smacks my arm and I break my fixed stare on my nemesis, and turn to face Tasha.
“We will discuss that little issue later.” Tasha raises a brow pointing her eyes to the now closing refrigerator door. At the mildly attractive blonde woman, carrying a tray full of cheese in her hands and a bottle of water tucked under her arm.
“Henry’s hungry, I’ll be back to help you cook in a moment.” Chelsea speaks to Tasha, ignoring me completely. Like me being in the same room with her, breathing the same air, agitates her.
Good! The only reason she’d feel that way about me, without even knowing me, is for one simple reason. She wants what is mine, aka, Gage Masterson. For the first time in my life, I’m sublimely happy to be angering a woman for having something she can’t. The satisfaction is indulgently sweet. I realize it’s messed up to feel this way. However, I frankly don’t care. I didn’t start it. She did. Now, like the crafty business woman I am. I’m going to finish it. Or in this case, flaunt it, until it drives her mad and she either stops drooling over my boyfriend or she confronts me about it. One of the two is bound to happen sooner or later and I’ve got an entire lifetime to have my fun with this. It’s better than the alternative, where I stress about it and drown myself in jealousy. Knowing women frequently throw themselves at the mercy of Gage isn’t really surprising. He’s powerful, ungodly sexy and caring to a fault. All attributes that makes him addicting like honey and women the persistent bees. The main difference in this situation is, I’m the owner of that said honey and I’m more than willing to fumigate the irreverent pests away, in one form or another. It’s great having this sort of power, knowing full and well that your honey is staying right where he is. With me, loving me, as I will do the same by loving him forever in return. I finally something in my life worth fighting for, Emma and Gage, they aren’t in my world, they are my world. Never thought I’d hear myself say that about anybody.
“Lex, can you slice some strawberries for the salad while I prepare the chicken?” Tasha asks, helpfully clearing my thoughts of Chelsea. I needed that.
“Thanks.” I pat her arm, as I walk past her to the sink where the strawberries are sitting, still in their container.
The nice thing about this kitchen is, there are no doors on the cupboards, it’s an open farm feel. Leaving you able to view all of the utensils and cookware in a single glance. I spot a colander next to a set of plastic Tupperware containers, and I put it in the sink.
“Thanks for what?” Tasha questions, looking down at the chicken breasts she’s smothering in some sort of dry rub.