Christian Parkinson's playboy lifestyle has taken an interesting turn when he met the sharp and witty Kylie Preston. She has something in her that other women lack - the guts to call him on his bullshit.
She's not the type he dates but Christian fin...
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Christian's body is craving for alcohol. He'd been day drinking in the past couple of days. It was the only thing that kept him from reaching Kylie because he was still licking his wounds. He can't afford to see her and not lose his head. Christian had not been a saint – he's been jealous once or twice in his life, yes – but jealousy has not made him unreasonably possessive before.
He is jealous with a capital J.
Matthew had always been the best of his siblings. That had never bothered him before. If anything, he'd been proud of it, thinking at least one of them got all the good genes. Never in his worst nightmares had he thought it could kindle his nasty insecurities.
He thought giving himself some distance will cool him down, but it just backfired right in his face. He's only been missing Kylie. And to top it all off, it's given her time to go on a date with his brother last night. He had known because Chandra won't shut up about it.
His hand fisted into a ball, loathing his strings of bad decisions.
A groan snapped him out of his thoughts. "Uncle Christian, I said stay still."
He blinks, reorienting himself. Christian has texted his good friend Nathaniel Forester to see if he could come over for a drink. But he forgot he have two children who raced when they see their Uncle Christian making it to their doorstep.
It was a distraction for a while. Ethan and his little sister Georgina haven't left him alone with his thoughts which is a good thing.
Christian shifted on the bar stool. "Sorry, Georgie."
The little girl has taken her place on his lap and decided to smear makeup on him. He has fancy hairpins pinned to his hair too. Then his attention shifted to the plate sliding in front of him, his friend's wife Chassie beaming from across the kitchen island.
"I made pasta," she announces.
He and Georgie exchange glances.
Christian looks down to the plate full of pale pasta that we're too limp and the sauce was clumpy. He tried to keep a straight face. He thought Chassie quit trying to improve her terrible culinary skills. Just then, his friend Nathan came back inside from the backyard with his son.
"Just have a taste." Chassie's hazel eyes shone expectantly.
Nathan made a face.
Christian held the fork, threaded the overcooked pasta into it and tried not to judge the book by its cover.
"You have to pretend to like it," Georgie whispered in his ear, hazel eyes wide.
He sighed.
Well, shit.
He took a tentative bite of the pasta. And struggled not to gag. It tasted every bit as awful as it looked. "Chassie, it's not that bad."
