Page 32 of The Anchor Holds

Sloppy.

No excuse for it, given who I’d made enemies of.

“Knock much?” I snapped. “I could’ve been naked.”

I didn’t self-consciously tighten the knot securing my robe, even as instinct dictated I do so, considering I was naked underneath, and the silk didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Kip kept his eyes securely fastened to mine. They were dancing with mischief, as they often were. And less and less often was it forced those days, now that he was genuinely happy with his wife and daughter. I knew the shadows of his past would never entirely leave him. You didn’t lose a wife and child then get to walk through life without their ghosts clinging to you.

“I don’t doubt that if I’d come five minutes earlier, that you and Elliot Shaw might’ve both been naked,” he quipped, grabbing a mug and making himself a cup of coffee. His wife was Australian, took her caffeine very seriously, and he took taking care of her very seriously. Which was the only reason I let him near my espresso machine. And because he knew how to use it. That and I needed him to be distracted, considering what he just said.

“There is only one reason an unmarried man is at your place this early in the morning.” He spoke with his back to me. “And that means you’re fucking.”

His crassness didn’t bother me in the slightest, it was his perception. No one needed to know about Elliot. Especially not the man who was married to my best friend. I considered lying—it was my best asset at that point. But there were not many conceivable lies I could concoct to explain Elliot’s presence at my house so early in the morning, me still in a robe.

The truth, then. I wasn’t afraid of it, I told myself.

“We fucked,” I corrected. “We are notfucking. One-time thing.”

Kip didn’t answer at first, going through the motions of making coffee. Whether he was doing it because men couldn’t multitask or because he wanted to torture me a little remained to be seen.

Kip’s brow was raised as he turned to face me, leaning against the counter, cupping his mug with his hands. “Granted, I don’t know the man well, but Elliot Shaw does not strike me as a ‘one-time thing’ kind of guy. You are a ‘one-time thing’ kind of woman, I’ll give you that.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and at the not-so-subtle slut shaming. It was not done with malice, that was just Kip. His first language was teasing. “Takes one to know one.”

He beamed at me, holding up his left hand where a large gold ring shone. “Not anymore, sunshine. Happily reformed manwhore right here. All it took was the right woman.”

I rolled my eyes despite how happy I was for my surrogate brother to be with someone he deserved and for Fiona to have the same. They’d both been through more than enough.

“You better not be ramping up to give me any kind of speech about how Elliot Shaw is the right kind of man to reform my whorish ways.”

“I never calledyoua whore,” he protested, hand on his heart dramatically.

“You called yourself a whore and me by proxy,” I muttered, not overly offended by the title of whore as it was. I’d been called much worse.

“Settle down, counselor. I’m not here to argue semantics. We’re going through another sleep regression, so I only got three hours last night instead of my usual five.” He took another long gulp of his coffee. “You’re lucky I’m here since my daughter seems to be some kind of vampire that needs no sleep.”

I smiled, thinking of my surrogate niece and her stubborn, cheeky, fierce personality. She had been keeping Kip and Fiona on their toes since birth, and apparently, she still didn’t sleep.

“Although I’m glad I did.” He put down his coffee to steeple his hands gleefully. “Since this is the juiciest piece of gossip I’ve come across in a while.”

“You will not tell a fucking soul about this, Kip Goodman.” It was lucky I didn’t crack my mug, slamming it down as hard as I did. “Or I will?—”

“I don’t need your threats,” he held his hands up in surrender. “I know you well enough to know that you’ll make my life miserable in a multitude of ways. I’ll keep your secret.”

I observed him with a disbelieving eye. This fucker could not keep a secret to save his life.

“I’m serious, Kip.” I tapped the rim of my mug. “I don’t need the Jupiter crew playing matchmaker. Just because you all are loved up doesn’t make it everyone’s journey.”

His face turned somber. “I understand. And you and Elliot are not on that journey.”

I squinted at him. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, come on, Cal.” He barked out a laugh, the stark difference in expressions an impressive feat. “Elliot Shaw is the kind of guy who will settle down with a wife for a quiet life, have a bunch of kids and be content as fuck with boring and peaceful.” He pointed at me with his coffee mug after he picked it up again. “You, Calliope Derrick, would murder quiet and peaceful with your bare hands if you could. And as great as you are with children, you would rather die than have one of your own. Totally fucking wrong for each other.” He shrugged as if he hadn’t just laid a bunch of knowledge on me. As if that knowledge wasn’t sitting on my chest like a ten-ton weight. “But I’m sure it was a great fuck.”

Before I could open my mouth to curse him out, he spoke again.

“Now, would you please go get some fucking clothes on so we can train? I’m a very happily married man who only wants to see his wife’s nipples. You’re like my sister, and yours are staring at me through that stupid excuse for fabric.” He kept his eyes on mine, a grin on his face that made me want to punch him.

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