Millie

Anna Reed, billionaire and fashion icon, stood in the middle of a kitchen that was a housewife's wet dream wearing a flour covered kiss the cook apron while she shoved her hand up a turkey's backside. The amount of money a tabloid would pay for this picture would be life changing, and here I was getting to see it for free.

"There," she said, pulling her hand out and giving the turkey a little smack that reminded me a bit too much of last night and made me blush. "Tomorrow we'll put this in the oven first thing and cook it low and slow."

She put the turkey away and washed her hands. Then she pushed a bowl of potatoes toward me and handed me a peeler. Smiling, I picked up a potato and hoped I looked like I knew what I was doing. How hard could it be?

"No, no." Anna laughed and took it from me. Half the peel remained and big chunks were missing. "Gentle. Top to bottom."

She demonstrated the process again, and once more, I found my face heating. Gentle. Top to bottom. My overheated brain turned every word out of her mouth into an innuendo. Having sex with Lochlan was supposed to cure me of this lust, but it had only infected me further. He was in the next room on a phone call for work, close enough I could hear the deep timbre of his voice as he talked, but for my body, if he wasn't touching me, it wasn't close enough.

"Tell me about your favorite holiday traditions," Anna said, picking up her own potato after watching me for a few minutes to make sure I would not maul another to the point of uselessness. I was grateful for the distraction, but my mind drew an immediate blank.

"You know, I can't really think of one. I spent a lot of holidays in the Children's Home. Thanksgiving kind of got skipped, but—"

My heart swelled as I thought about my first Christmas on my own. The scrawny little tree I purchased, and the cheap ornaments. I'd felt like a queen sitting next to the cheerful lights while eating a microwave meal. Every year afterward, I went as big as my budget would allow, and then this year...

Shame washed over me. It had been a perfect day of shopping and getting to know Lochlan. Until I ruined it by running and then agreeing to betray him as soon as I had the chance. Suddenly, I was grateful he was in the other room.

"But," I began again, "Christmas has always been my favorite. I decorate as soon as possible. It's an entire production."

Anna didn't respond immediately. Tears rolled down her cheeks, turning the flour splotches doughy. "Oh, excuse me for being an emotional mess. That was thoughtless of me to ask you something like that."

"No! Really. I didn't mind. To be honest, it's nice to talk about that time of my life even if it's not social media perfect." Because that was the last time I felt like a good person. "It shaped who I am now. I am curious about something, though."

She moved onto slicing the potatoes, her sharp knife and precision making quick work of the large spud. "Anything."

"I didn't expect this." I waved the peeler around the room and then at her. "Like, when you said a cabin getaway for Thanksgiving—"

"You pictured a mansion with a full staff?"

I bit my lip and winced. "Yeah. The house is close. Definitely the most luxurious cabin I've ever seen."

"True. I wanted the rustic flare with the modern comforts. John was happy to oblige, and he would've hired a full staff if I'd asked. But I didn't want that. Holidays were a big deal growing up, and I have so many wonderful memories with my mother, aunts, and sisters in the kitchen. As soon as Alex was old enough, I dragged him in here to learn all the old recipes."

The unspoken hung heavy in the air between us. She might have included her son regardless, but I was certain she'd spent every holiday thinking about the daughter who was supposed to carry on those traditions.

"What did that potato ever do to you?"

I jumped as Lochlan's clean scent washed over me. Bumping in to his chest, the potato slipped, and the sharp edge of the peeler's blade sliced through my palm. I hid it against my stomach, but I wasn't fast enough.

"Shit, Millie. I'm sorry." He took my hand and frowned when he saw blood welling up. It was the first time he'd touched me since we walked into the house. "That's deep."

"Oh, no. Get that under some water. I keep a first aid kit in here for this very reason."

Lochlan guided me to the sink and turned on the faucet. Pushing back my sleeve, his touch was gentle as washed the wound. I didn't imagine the way he lingered or how his eyes darkened as his thumb slid across my wrist.

"I didn't mean for you to get hurt." There was a strong subtext to what he said, but with Anna so near, I pretended he was talking about the cut. And not about how cold he'd been since we arrived.

"It was an accident."

"Here ya go," Anna said pulling me aside. She dabbed on a bit of triple antibiotic before pressing a bandaid over it. Lochlan cleared his throat and shut off the water. "Maybe potatoes just aren't your thing."

"Hey," I protested. "It's that peeler. It's terrible."

They both looked at the offending tool and back at me. The skepticism was obvious in their expressions. I snatched it and a potato up and carefully showed how I'd been peeling the potato. The blade barely made a dent in the peel.

"See!"

"Well, of course not. You're left handed. You'll have to cut away from you for that blade to work," Lochlan explained.

I opened my mouth to make a joke about his sudden expertise in the kitchen, but I caught Anna's expression and stopped. She'd gone as pale as the quartz counters she was now using to hold herself up.

"You're left handed," she whispered.

I shrugged. "Yeah."

"You're left handed," Anna repeated.

"Mrs. R?" Lochlan said, his hand hovering about her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

She had to crane her neck to look up at him. Something passed between them. "Marianna was left handed."

"T-that could just be a coincidence," I said, stepping back as my heart threatened to race up my throat. The cavernous kitchen suddenly felt quite small.

"She's right," Lochlan said in a tone that suggested he didn't think I was at all right. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll get the DNA test done next week."

"Hello, anyone home?"

"Who is that?" I asked, desperate to abandon this conversation. "It doesn't sound like Alex."

I looked at Lochlan, and the granite lines of his face answered my question before he said, "My father."