Brooklyn laughed, and Sophie laughed a little, too, but deep inside she couldn’t help thinking that she was tired of always being the joke in the family. Then someone yelled “Mom” in the background of Brooklyn’s call, followed by a bellow of “wipe me!”

Sophie laughed, genuinely this time.

“Please come visit?” Brooklyn asked.

Sophie sighed. “Yeah. I’ll come.” When they disconnected, she tossed her phone aside, flopped back to the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

Jacob peered down into her face. “I can see the wheels turning.”

“I don’t want to be like this,” she said.

“Naked?” He stroked a hand from her belly to a breast.

“No,” she said, and snorted, rolling to her stomach so she wouldn’t feel so…exposed. “I don’t want to be like this to my family. The one they laugh at.”

He palmed a butt cheek, squeezed. “Then don’t.”

She craned her neck, cutting her eyes to his. “You make it sound easy.”

“It is,” he said in the way of an alpha man who’d never given a single damn about what anyone thought of him.

And maybe there was something to that. Maybe she was holding herself up to an impossible standard, like to Brooklyn, who was a really great person but had a very different life from Sophie. Different life, different needs.

And what are my own needs exactly?

Her alarm went off again.

“You have another sister to call?” Jacob asked.

“No, that’s my get-my-ass-ready-for-work alarm,” she said, and got out of bed.

Jacob came up on one elbow, hair mussed, eyes heavy-lidded and sexy, the sheet slipping down to his lean hips, watching in amusement as she raced around putting on her clothes, swearing a little when she hopped into her sweatpants and nearly fell over.

“What’s today’s temp job?” he asked, smirking, the sexy ass.

“I’m going to be a sous chef for a lunch shift. The regular took a few days off.”

“Really?” He looked impressed. “You’re a chef?”

She shrugged. “I love to cook. And I’m good at it.”

“What restaurant?”

She hesitated. “Cooking tacos at Paco’s.” Where the hell had she kicked off her shoes?

“The Mexican taco truck that parks at the City Building?” Jacob asked.

“Yep.”

He stared at her for a beat and then laughed.

She stopped looking for her shoes and went hands on hips. “I know you’re not laughing at me because I’m as white as they come and everyone else at Paco’s…isn’t.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, and got out of bed.

Naked, he stalked her, catching her up against his dresser, pinning her in, nuzzling his face against hers until his mouth brushed her ear. “Think of me today,” he said in a voice that was pure sex.

“Wh-what should I think of?”

“About where my mouth was a few minutes ago,” he whispered, and slipped a hand between her legs.

Her knees wobbled. With a chuckle, he caught her. “I’ll be thinking about how good you tasted.” He sucked her earlobe into his mouth, and she shivered.

“I can’t cook and think about sex,” she said. Liar, liar…

“Try. You can practice right now. What are you thinking about right this minute?”

How his amazing tongue had made her squirm in the very best of ways. How even remembering it made her squirm again. “Are you fishing for compliments on your technique?” she asked. “Do I need to stroke your fragile ego?”

“Not my ego, but if you’re looking for something to stroke—”

She pushed him. With a laugh, he released her. “Have a good day making tacos. They have the best tacos in the state.”

“Yep,” she said, “and today’s are going to be the best in the nation.”

“I’d never bet against you,” he said. “And now I know what I’m having for lunch.”

She found herself staring at him with a dopey smile.

“You know,” he said, “you’re pretty cute when you’re being nice.”

“What am I when I’m not nice?”

“Hot as fuck.”

Something went through her at that, something warm and…dangerous. He believed in her, without question, when he had no reason in the world to do so.

I’m yours for the duration…

And for the first time, she wondered just how long that could possibly be.