“You aren’t going to scare me away, Kate. But I get wanting to be good for your parents. Did I tell you about the time Mama cleaned my mouth out with soap?”

My scandalized gasp snuck out. “Aiden King swore around his mama?”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Once. She gave us a pass if we were dealing with cattle. But no cussing when it came to church, schoolwork, or each other.” A small smile played over his lips. “Beck took a couple of my toy cars and busted one, then tried to lie about it.”

I pictured two dark-haired little boys, one with an adorable cowlick, arguing over metal cars that cost a buck a piece. “What’d you say?”

Aiden’s gaze grew distant. “I think I said something like ‘you lying little fucker, you’re always breaking my shit.’ And when I told her I’d heard Dad say something similar, she almost went after him with the soap.” His eyes twinkled. “But it was natural stuff, so the flavor wasn’t awfully strong like the store-bought stuff.”

I twirled my fingers into the cowlick that was breaking through the gel he’d put into it. “And Aiden King never swore around his mama again?”

His expression grew serious. “I’m just Aiden, Kate.”

I cupped his face. This guy could melt me with one kiss. He’d sweep into bed and be gone before sunrise, but not until he’d rocked my world at least twice before he satisfied himself. Yet this moment was more intimate than all of those other times combined. “You’re not just anything. Everyone around you strives to be better, work harder, be the best version of themselves.”

His forehead creased. “I don’t want to make people feel like that.”

“Then let us in.”

CHAPTER 8

Aiden

A quick knock at my office door preceded Kendall poking her head in. “Got a minute?”

“Yes.” I clicked out of the projected expense report that should’ve been done last week. No later than the weekend, but I’d been rolling around on a wrestling mat with Kate, not giving a damn about the pile of work I’d left waiting.

With a quick smile, she clicked the door shut behind her and sat across from me. As Dad’s executive assistant, it wasn’t unusual for her to confer with me separately, but I got the sense from her tight shoulders and the pinch around her eyes that this was more.

“Is Dad okay?” Around the office, I called him Gentry, or Mr. King, depending on who I was talking to. Between us, he was just Dad.

Surprise flared in her eyes. “Yeah, he’s well.” Her unrepentant grin eased my anxiety. “You know I won’t let him be anything but stellar.”