Resisting Mr. Kane (London Mister #2)(78)

“Uncle Danny?” he asks excitedly.

“Not Uncle Danny. My friend, Elly.” I take his hand and lead him into the house. “Are you okay with Elly spending the afternoon with us?”

He shrugs, not bothered.

Elly stands awkwardly beside the kitchen island as we enter.

“This is Elly, Daniel.” I meet her eyes.

“Hi, Daniel.” She gives him a formal smile like she’s meeting a prince. “It’s so lovely to meet you.”

“Hello,” he says politely. He turns to me. “She’s a girl friend.”

Elly’s eyes widen in horror.

I study my son’s reaction. So far, he doesn’t seem upset. “Yes, Daniel,” I confirm, something fluttering in my stomach. “She’s a girl friend. My girlfriend.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Like my girlfriend?”

I try to remember her name. “Talia?”

“No!” He scoffs. “Miss Hargrove. I told her yesterday.”

Oh, Jesus, I’m going to get another angry phone call from the school.

He turns his attention to Elly. “Do you skateboard?”

“Love it,” she responds without missing a beat. I arch a brow.

“Good.” He approves. “I have my skateboard upstairs. Do you know any tricks?”

Her eyes widen at being caught by her lie.

“When were you last on a skateboard?” I ask casually.

“Quarter of a century ago, give or take,” she mutters.

“Perhaps we’ll eat before Elly shows you all her skateboarding tricks. Are you hungry, buddy? Elly is going to cook for us.”

“Like Natalia? Are you here to help Daddy?” he asks uncertainly. His face scrunches up as if he's trying to remember something. “I know you. You were the lady on the boat.”

Oh shit.

Her breath hitches sharply. “Uh…”

“That’s right, Elly’s a friend who likes boats too,” I say smoothly. “Do you want to know what we’re eating?”

Elly clears her throat. “A dish that I used to have a lot when I was a kid,” she explains. She looks tense. “A traditional Croatian casserole.”

“What that mean?” he shoots back.

“What does that mean,” I correct him. “Do you know where Croatia is?”

His forehead furrows into a deep frown like I’ve asked him the cure for Aids. I reach for my phone. “Here, I’ll show you.”

“Yes!” He nods firmly. “Reema’s from there. I went to her party.”

I give him a blank look. I’ve met Reema’s parents before and they are not Croatian. “Oh no,” I say. “That’s Croydon. Croatia is in South Central Europe.” I show him on the map.

“Is that why you’re so pretty?” he asks Elly, his expression serious. “Is everyone pretty in Croatia?” It sounds like my son has picked up a few tricks from me.

She laughs. “Thanks, Daniel. I’m half Croatian but I’m Welsh, I was born in Wales. I’m not as pretty as your mum, though.”

I clench my jaw. She has got to be joking.

He tilts his head, inspecting her. “You’re prettier,” he replies, matter-of-fact. The boy has got good taste, just like his father.

“Do you want to help cook, Daniel?” she asks. “We can make a mess in your dad’s kitchen.”

I raise my eyebrows, and she smirks back.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Should Daddy help as well?”

She looks between us. “Probably not. I’m not sure he knows how to operate half the devices in the kitchen. We’ll give him some of the easier tasks.”

I fire a napkin at her but take a seat at the breakfast bar. If she wants to go easy on me because I’m useless at cooking, that’s fine with me. I’m not a man who’s ashamed to admit his weaknesses.

She gets four saucepans and a frying pan on the go. “Damn,” she mutters, then looks at me apologetically.

“I’m pretty sure he hears worse language in school,” I say wryly. “In fact, he says worse things himself.”

My phone buzzes. “I need to take this work call, Elly.” I groan, rising from the stool.

She waves me away.

True to their word, my kitchen is a cooking tsunami when I come back. Daniel has food all down his top. “Daniel, go and get cleaned up. You’re a mess.”

He runs off to the bathroom. I grab Elly and pull her to me.

“Tristan,” she hisses. “Your son is here! Don’t touch me!”

I dip my head into her neck, my lips grazing her soft skin. I can’t help myself. My hands creep down her backside when my phone buzzes again. I groan, my head still buried in her neck. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’m going to have to get this again.”

“It’s fine,” she murmurs, lacing her fingers with mine. “We have all the time in the world.”

***

Forty minutes later, and my agitation is at a peak. The building surveyor drones on in great detail about the repairs to the restaurant as I barely listen. Asha’s has received rave reviews, so Danny and I are opening a branch in Mayfair. I don't have the patience to do this right now, it's taking time away from Daniel.