Page 24 of Disavowed

“It was okay.” He looked up at Gray with adoring eyes. “Got lots of homework, but Aunt Daisy’s been helping me. She’s really, really good at math.”

“I’ll bet she is.” Gray winked at her, then began pulling Nicky with him into the kitchen. “Let’s go see Mommy.” To Dom, he said, “Alex is making her famous beef stew. And did I forget to tell you Daisy was here?” He grinned, then disappeared into the kitchen with Nicky.

For a moment Dom couldn’t take his eyes off father and son. Even though the adoption papers weren’t finalized yet, Gray was, in every way that mattered, already Nicky’s father.

Through the kitchen opening, he watched Gray catch Alex up in a tight hug and kiss her deeply. He turned away, feeling like he was intruding, and found Daisy staring at him with an odd, bemused expression on her face.

He cleared his throat. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”

“No worries.” She laughed, although he sensed it was more of a nervous laugh. “Guess we need to try to be civil to each other sooner or later.”

He shrugged, wondering if he could ever just be civil with her. Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not. Fuck no.

“I suppose you’re right.” Even as he said the words, he didn’t believe them. Not for a goddamn second. He noticed the shot glass and a bottle of Glen Fiddich on the coffee table. “You mind?” He nodded to the glass.

“Not at all.” She picked up the glass and held it out to him.

When he took it, their fingers touched and their gazes locked, and for a moment he thought he saw a discernible shadow of awareness in her eyes. As if she, too, still felt that connection with him.

His gaze was drawn to her long, graceful fingers, and he was instantly thrown back in time to that night when she’d dug her nails into his back, her vaginal walls tightening around him as she orgasmed and breathed out his name on a muffled cry. His cock had throbbed and pulsed as, seconds later, he’d come inside her. It had been more than amazing. He didn’t know what exactly it had been. It had just been…more.

He downed the scotch, grateful for the distracting burn in his throat.

Daisy snorted. “Rough day?”

“You have no idea.” He poured another shot and downed it, too, thinking he needed to ease up on the bottle or he’d say something stupid. Like how incredibly hot she looked in that tight skirt and sweater.

Nicky bounded back into the living room and plunked down on the sofa next to Daisy. “Uncle Dom, do you want to help me with my homework, too?”

“Sure.” He sat on Nicky’s other side. “Are you stuck?”

“Not really.” He shook his head, and a dark lock of hair fell in front of his eyes. “But it’s hard to remember everything.”

When Daisy reached out to push his hair off his forehead, Dom tracked her fingers and the deep pink nail polish adorning her nails.

“So how can I help?” He looked at the open textbooks and notepad.

“I’m trying to memorize times tables.” Nicky wrinkled his face at the diagrams Daisy had drawn.

“I didn’t know they still taught those.” Dom picked up the pad and stared at the drawings of what looked like tiny flowers. He scratched his chin. “What are these?”

“That’s what I said.” Nicky laughed, elbowing Daisy.

“Hey.” She elbowed him back. “Those are roses.” She pointed to the first row of flowers. “And these are tulips.” She indicated the next row of drawings.

“Really?” Dom scrunched his brows, mimicking Nicky. Although in reality the hand-drawn images looked exactly like two groups of four roses and four tulips. “I have a better idea.”

He popped the magazine out of his duty weapon and proceeded to flick out the bullets with his thumb until sixteen rounds of ammo clattered onto the wood table. He then segregated the rounds into four groups of four bullets each.

“Are you serious?” Daisy’s eyes went wide. Her lips, looking extremely kissable with deep pink lipstick that matched her nails, were caught somewhere between a grin of disbelief and amusement. “You are not going to teach him times tables with bullets.”

“Now, Aunt Daisy.” Dom looked first at her, then at Nicky. “Teaching is all about relating to your audience. Nicky is a guy’s guy. Am I right, buddy?” He held up his open hand.

“Right, Uncle Dom.” Nicky smacked his hand against Dom’s in a high-five.

“You see, Aunt Daisy? Guys don’t relate as well to things like flowers as they do to manly guy stuff.”

“Manly guy stuff?” Her eyes went even wider, giving him another clear view of all the glittery golden specks in her irises. “Like bullets?”