Page 63 of The Rejected Wife

Connor, too, makes a sound of disgust and folds. Nathan does the same.

“You folding, too?” James asks, calm as ever. Man’s the coolest customer I’ve ever met. Whether he’s in the control room or out in the field, you’d never guess the pressure he’s under. The way he keeps his emotions locked down is almost as good as mine. Almost.

In response, I turn my cards over. It’s all four Kings, plus a Five.

“Well, glad to see the Monarchy’s thriving,” Brody says, deadpan.

James places his cards one-by-one, face-up. Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten and Jack. All hearts.

“Show off,” I scowl.

Connor clutches his chest in mock betrayal. “I thought you loved me, man.”

Brody reaches for an olive and stares at it. “Since when are we snacking like influencers?”

"Since I found out Tyler survives on processed food, which is unhealthy." Priscilla walks into the room with a couple of platters. One of which is a plate of cut vegetables and that brown stuff—hummus—she insists on plating out with it.

I stifle a groan.

Nathan levels a glance at me which I interpret as asking,“Since when does nannying stretch to playing hostess?”

I shrug. In the time she’s been here, she’s already made changes to my diet—and to Serene’s diet—for which I’m grateful, and this included throwing out all the pre-packaged food I had on-hand, saying nobody should be eating those additives.

She's right, but I had enough on my plate—pun intended—with ensuring a relatively healthy diet for Serene. I stopped making any effort when it came to my own diet. So, having her step in and plan my meals is something I gratefully accepted. In retrospect, I could have paid a housekeeper or a chef to do this, but it hadn’t occurred to me. Am I taking her generosity for granted by accepting this from her?

I stare back at Nathan, trying to communicate with my eyes that:This wasn’t part of the job description.But when she offered to cater food for the poker game, I couldn’t say no. Another way I’ve taken advantage of her thoughtfulness?

"You could try the French fries," she hastens to clarify. "Baked, of course."

"BakedFries?" Brody winces.

"You can't even tell the difference." She places them on the table, not noticing Brody shooting me a knowing glance. One which I pretend not to notice.

James samples one of the fries, then looks at her with surprise. "You made these?"

She nods. The light of recognition in her eyes tells me she realizes who he is, but she doesn’t make a big deal about one of the most famous chefs in the country sampling her cooking.

"They're good," he says slowly.

Her face brightens.

"It’s good to see you, Priscilla.” Connor winks at her.

I glare at the mofo, but he continues to stare her with an entranced look in his eyes. Jealousy stabs at my chest. I squeeze the edge of the table, trying to hold back my anger. Asshole’s doing it to provoke a reaction from me, and I’ll be damned if I’ll give him that satisfaction. I stifle the growl bubbling up.

“It’s nice to see you, too, Connor," she says in her sweet voice.

Connor’s smile widens. “I’m so pleased you’re Serene’s nanny. I bet Tyler appreciates the help."

"All credit to Serene. She makes it so easy. She’s a wonderful little girl." She begins to gather up the empty beer glasses.

Connor jumps up to help her, but when I glare at him, he slowly sinks back, a smirk on his face. One which turns me hot under my collar.

I should not have agreed to let her bring us food. It’s exposing her to the gazes of my brothers and my friend. With the exception of Nathan, they’re single.

All three are watching her like she’s an angel. Which I admit, she is. And dressed in that simple pink wrap dress and ballet flats, she looks almost virginal. Contrasted with the thick hair that flows down her back and her obvious curves, she exudes an allure which calls to me. It makes me want to pull her into my lap and kiss her, regardless of who's watching. I hadn’t realized having my brothers and my friend look at her with interest would make me want to jump up from my seat, push her behind me so she’s out of sight and growl, “Mine.”

I don’t like the idea of her waiting on the others at the table. In fact, I don’t want her lowering herself to the role of domestic help by gathering up the used beer glasses. I realize, while I want her to take care of Serene, I don't want her to do it as a nanny, but as something more. I want her to be my wife.And how selfish is that? Am I thinking of her as the most likely candidate because she’s here and available?No, that’s not it. It’s because she’s the only person I can see myself with. It’s been her or no one else, since I met her.

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