Cassian

I receive a text from Ophelia two days later. It tells me she's free for a date next Saturday, the same day Penelope and Patrick are going in for their DNA test. I'm not thrilled about not being home when Penelope gets back—she may need my moral support—but if I ask Ophelia to reschedule again, she won't be available until mid-October. If I'm going to convince her romance isn't a bad thing, I need to work on her ASAP.

Rolling over in bed, I fire off a quick response to her before tossing my phone back on the nightstand. I want to stay in bed. I want to stay wrapped up in these cotton sheets and listen to waves crash against the rocky shore while I act like a lazy bum. When I think back to Saanich, I don't long for it. I don't long for the musky seawater or constant rain. But while I don't miss the weather or geography, I miss my place. When renovations are over and we return to Saanich, I'm probably going to kiss every piece of furniture in my house. My television is way better. My bed is fluffier and has an electric heating pad beneath the sheets. I miss dinner at Mom's every Sunday night. The Okanagan is appealing to my aesthetics, but I'm a homebody, through and through. And there's nothing like being home.

What I wouldn't do for some of Mom's venison chili and homemade bannock.

Penelope knocks on the door, interrupting the mouth-watering images skirting through my train of thought.

"Come in," I call, positioning the sheets low enough she can see the band of my boxers. Ever since the naked incident in the bathroom, I've come up with new ways to tease Penelope. She's lucky I'm too modest to sleep naked or else I'd use that to my advantage, too.

When Penelope steps into the bedroom, my mouth turns dry. She's wearing high-waisted white jeans paired with a dark-purple bikini top that does little for my imagination. I cock my head to the side. Huh. I wouldn't mind untying that bikini top and getting a full view of her supple breasts. I mean, they must be supple if there's no under-wire supporting them. Penelope is... sexy. And not just because of her breasts—those just contribute to her headstrong, independent, confident personality. The traits I love in a woman.

Before Penelope can realize I'm fantasizing over her breasts, I shift my gaze up to hers. Her cheeks are tinged pink and her mouth is pulled to one corner. She's trying to hide her emotions from me, and it makes me chuckle. I take full credit in making my body swoon-worthy. Years of football and daily trips to the gym have allowed me to maintain a healthy lifestyle. The toned muscles are just a bonus.

"What's up, Pen?" I grin.

She clears her throat and shakes her head. "Get up, Cassian. We have guests coming."

"Guests?" I frown, wondering who she's talking about. My first thought goes to Jake and Gemma. But even though they're back in Canada, I'm positive they'd want to spend at least a week at home before coming here to check on us. Perhaps it's Patrick and his parents; maybe Penelope ripped the bandage off. A pang of worry radiates through my chest. Seeing Penelope upset about Patrick was gut-wrenching. I don't know if I can handle seeing her crumble again if she doesn't get the reaction she wants from her parents.

"That's right," she nods. "Guests." She glances down at her Apple Watch. "And they're going to be here in twenty minutes. You need to get up, Cassian—it's almost noon."

I swipe my phone from the nightstand and stare at the time. Huh. I thought she was lying. Slouching against my pillows, I smirk up at Pen. "When was the last time I slept in until noon?" I stretch out my languid muscles. "I don't know if I'll be able to get up, Pen. It's too comfortable."

"While I can understand the comfort of a warm bed and feeling rested," she says, "I need you to help me finish prepping lunch. I know my bannock doesn't compare to your mom's, but I made Indigenous tacos."

I cock an eyebrow. "You mean bannock tacos?"

People shrugs despite looking nervous. "I don't feel comfortable using that term." She wrings her hands. "When I took Indigenous Studies back in university, I was taught Indigenous Peoples is a collective name for the original peoples of North America and their descendants. I prefer to stick with the correct term. Is... Is it okay I'm using that?"

I smile, adjusting the elastic holding my man bun in place. I'm going to need a haircut soon—it's getting too long. While I tie my hair, I fixate over how culturally aware Penelope is. During elementary, middle, and high school, my peoples's history is overlooked. In fact, I can't recall learning anything about residential schools or how the Europeans destroyed their homelands. It's disgusting, if you ask me. I've experienced racism several times within my life, but not once with Penelope. And whenever she asks me a question someone would consider offensive, I don't get mad at her. She wants to learn how to address me and the rest of Aboriginal communities. There's no shame in asking questions so long as you have someone reliable providing the answers and your intentions are good. I know Penelope's are. "Indigenous tacos is fine, Pen. Fry bread tacos or bannock tacos works. Indian tacos is okay, too."

"Why is it okay to call them Indian tacos?"

"Because," I reply, swinging my legs over the bed. She traces her tongue across her bottom lip as she stares at my body. It makes my blood fizz with excitement. "You're talking about something that's associated with our culture. You're not using the term 'Indian' as a derogatory slur. That being said, some communities have different opinions. You're better off using one of the other ones."

"Right," Penelope nods. "Indian tacos."

Her voice shakes when she tests the words on her tongue, but I applaud her for trying. The world needs people like Penelope. The ones who are willing to give other cultures and races an equal chance of understanding.

Smiling, I sidle up beside her and squeeze her shoulder. "Every time we have discussions like this," I say, "my respect for you skyrockets. Never stop asking me questions about my culture and lineage. And it's okay if you're nervous about the topic. There's nothing wrong with learning, and it's not your fault Canada's education system doesn't go more in-depth with these topics."

She sends me a wobbly smile as she laces her hand with mine. Her grip is enticing and warm, making an involuntary shudder caress my spine. "Thanks for answering my questions," she breathes. "I've learned a lot from you."

"Knowledge is the driving force behind evolution," I reply. "It has a beginning, but no end. We would have no power if we hoarded it instead of shared it. Remember that. And don't thank me, Pen. Your efforts are enough."

She smiles at me and leans against the doorframe, dropping her hand from mine. Her eyes flick down my body, and I have to suppress a cocky grin. She's checking me out. "How is your quest coming along?"

I rub the back of my neck and sigh. I want to show Penelope excitement and eagerness, but I feel... deflated. After a disastrous first date, it's difficult to believe the second will be better. Doubt also clouds my mind—will I be able to make Ophelia see what she's missing out on by avoiding romance? Or will she shut me down? "I'm going out on another date," I reply.

Penelope nudges me in the side, her smile brighter than the sun. "I knew you'd do it," she encourages. "You're relentless, Cassian."

My feet want to move and head for the bathroom to avoid discussing this topic, but I'm stuck here, lost in Penelope's intense gaze. Her gaze is awe-inspiring. There's so much belief and happiness being directed to me it's contagious. "You think so?" I grin.

We stare at each other, both of us smiling like a couple of goofs. My hand is still on her shoulder, and I can't stop myself from staring at her full lips. Or revealing in the warmth radiating from her bare skin. Speaking of bare skin... my eyes travel down her body to the curve of her breasts and that dark purple bikini top that's so fucking intimidating, I can hardly flick my gaze back up to her.

Damn. Pen's hot.

"Cassian..."

Her hand slides up to rest atop mine. She presses her lips into a flat line and gazes at me with those big eyes. A haughty feeling washes over me, and I blame this moment right here because it increases the tiny fracture between Ophelia and I. I don't know where this sudden attraction to Penelope is coming from. We've always depended on each other, but something's shifted. Something has sent the balance swinging into an unfamiliar direction.

And I'm not sure if I like it. We're business partners. Friends.

Shrugging her hand from my shoulder, I turn around and head for the bathroom. "I'll get dressed and then help you. Indian tacos are nothing without cilantro."

From the dresser, I grab a clean pair of boxers, some swim shorts, and a sweater. Today is one of the rare days Penelope and I have off, so we're going to make the best of it. We're going to spend the day in the hot tub. I'm also going to convince her to come for a swim. The fact that she believes in the Ogopogo is ridiculous, and the water still has the lingering effects of summer; it's still warm enough for a swim.

I stop at the entrance to the bathroom and glance over my shoulder, ready to tease her about her irrational fears. But just as I'm turning to face her, she turns her back to me, and I notice the way her shoulders slump.

I'm not sure why her shoulders slump, but I have a strange feeling it has something to do with me. I gnaw on my thumbnail. Did I say something wrong? Did I not give her enough information regarding her question? Or is she nervous about the upcoming DNA test?

Feeling guilty, I shut the door behind me and knock my head against the wood. Damn it, I wish I knew how to help Penelope. I wish I knew what was wrong. If I could read her mind, I could remedy everything that goes awry. She could be happy like she deserves. That woman has put her heart and soul into our company.

But while my worry about Penelope is prominent, I also can't contain my curiosity about our surprise guests. There's a high probability it's just Patrick, and she wants to make a good impression, but Penelope can be sneaky. Maybe she's invited Tessa Lauren over here to discuss the potential bakery partnership.

Either way, I strip out of my boxers and pull on my clean clothes. I don't think our guests will want me strutting around in my boxers.

* * *

"You know," Jake says, scraping the last of the food from his plate and stuffing it in his mouth. "These were delicious—props to you, Penelope—but nothing compares to your mom's cooking, Cassian."

I still can't believe Jake and Gemma are here, tanned, glowing, and overly... excited? Or are they still drunk on love? I can't tell. Something's off between them. The same goes for Penelope. She's on the edge of her seat as she works on her third plate of Indian tacos. With my side-glance at her, a smile creeps across my face. I love a woman with a hearty appetite, and this isn't the first time I've seen Penelope in action. The day after Jake and Gemma's wedding, we each ordered an extra-large pizza from Fresh Slice and devoured them on our own. It cured our wicked hangovers.

Well... the pizzas almost did.

Penelope laughs, pointing her fork in Jake's direction. "I'll take that as a compliment. I totally agree with you, though, Jake. Anyway, how was the trip? I want to hear all about it! Did you go to the elephant sanctuary?"

"Yes!" Gemma exclaims, taking a sip of her lemonade. "It was amazing to see elephants! I would highly suggest visiting the sanctuary if you get the chance to take a trip to Thailand." She eyes Jake and nudges him in the side. "Jake was a little scared, though. It was cute to watch him squirm."

"Says the one who fears goats," Jake teases. He reaches out and takes her hand in his, their rings glinting beneath the kitchen lighting.

Gemma smacks his shoulder. "Shut up. Are you done with your plate?"

Jake nods. "I'll help you bring them to the kitchen."

"God," I drawl, rolling my eyes, "inseparable even after the honeymoon. Where is the line drawn?"

Penelope throws a piece of bannock at me. "Shut up, Cassian. You're spoiling the fun. Besides, where do you draw the line with bad dates? Personally, I'd abort the mission after one bad one."

I scowl at her. "That's low, even for you."

She inspects the chili before her, frowning. "All is fair in love and war, dear Cassie."

My grip tightens around my fork. "Penelope."

"Why do you hate that nickname so much? And don't use the excuse of it being a woman's name. That's sexist and offensive, and I will punch you."

I tear my gaze away from hers. During our banter, the lovebirds have disappeared. I stuff another piece of chili-soaked bannock into my mouth, trying to come up with a retort that will end Penelope's regime. But I come up short. She's got me, so I give her a look. "You win this round, Pen, but I will be back."

Her eyes glitter with mischief. "I'll be waiting."

"So," Jake says, sitting down between Penelope and I. He bumps his shoulder against mine, nearly knocking my fork from my hand.

"Bro," I say, "personal space."

"Why do you deny the love, Cassian?" Jake teases. "I know you've missed me."

If I'm being honest, I have missed Jake. And Gemma. They're fun to be around, and I love the dynamics of our friendships. But for the sake of banter, I decline his statement with a snort. "Things were much easier without you here."

"He's lying," Penelope says. "He wouldn't stop talking about you, Jake. He kept telling me how much better things would have been had you been there."

I glare at Penelope. "What happened to secrecy?"

"There are no secrets in the business world, Cassian."

Jake claps me on the back. "You missed me."

"I didn't miss getting picked on," I murmur.

"Oh, Cassian, quit complaining."

I glance up at Gemma. She's carrying a jar of pickles. I frown, rubbing the stubble on my jaw. What the hell is she doing? She's also wearing a black shirt that says Does this shirt make me look pregnant?

My frown deepens. What an odd shirt top to be wearing. It's almost like she wants me to comment on her weight (in a teasing manner, of course). The saying tempts my tongue, but I also don't want to die at a young age, so I clamp my mouth shut and bite my tongue. Gemma and Penelope will go for my throat if I make a comment.

"I'm not complaining," I reply.

Gemma exchanges a glance with Penelope. They don't believe me.

"Are you really that daft?" Penelope asks, gaping at me. "Even when the clues are absolute?" She gestures to Gemma and then the glass of lemonade.

I roll my eyes. She's trying to make me slip up and fall for this trap. She thinks she's being cunning. "Please," I scoff, gesturing to Gemma's shirt. "This is a ploy so the three of you can gang up on me. I know your games."

"What about the lack of alcohol?" Jake asks. "Or the salty cravings? She goes through three jars of pickled something every week."

I stare at Gemma's glass of lemonade.  "Lemonade goes good with tacos," I reply, feeling indifferent. "Seriously, how stupid do you think I am?"

"Cassian," Gemma sighs. "I'm pregnant. We were trying to hint at it, but you misinterpreted it. Jake and I are going to have a baby in March." With both hands, she points at her T-shirt. "This is legit."

My first instinct is to call her bluff. But when I see the content look on Jake's face, shock courses through me. I run a hand through my hair. "What?"

Jake and Gemma exchange a loving glance. "We're pregnant," Gemma replies, her voice giddy. "Jake and I are going to be parents. I'm just over three months pregnant."

"No," I frown. "No. You're just over three months married."

"Cassian," Penelope says, resting her hand on my thigh. "Gemma's pregnant. Jake knocked her up the night of their wedding, when we were piss drunk."

I search Penelope's eyes for a hint of a lie, but I can detect none. She's telling the truth.

"Fuck," I breathe, turning to Jake. "You knocked her up, and you didn't tell me?! I've been talking to you on the phone every week, man! What the fuck?"

Jake tosses his head back and laughs. "We wanted to surprise you. Gemma and Penelope love the shock value." His expression softens. "And... and I wanted to tell you face-to-face."

His words strike me in the heart, bringing up the memories of when we shared a house—me, Jake, and Hanna. We're more like family as opposed to being friends. If our roles were switched, I would have wanted to tell Jake in person, too.

"Man," I smile, "congrats. I'm happy for the two of you." I lean back in my chair and grin. "You're naming him or her after their Uncle Cassian, right?"

Gemma rolls her eyes. "Of course," she drawls.

Before I can say another word, the doorbell rings. Penelope sets her napkin down and stands. "I'll get it. Be right back."

When Penelope has disappeared around the corner, I turn to Jake. "So, being a couple of horny teenagers paid off, then?"

Jake sighs. "Yes, Cassian. It helped."

"Adults," Gemma corrects, popping open the jar of pickles. She withdraws one and takes a bite, groaning. "God, these are so good."

I wrinkle my nose. "Gemma, those were here when Penelope and I arrived. Whoever rented the place before us left those behind. They might be ancient."

Gemma finishes the pickle and plucks another one out of the jar. "Don't care," she shrugs. "They're delicious."

"Hey," Jake says, nudging me. "Don't fuck with her cravings."

Behind us, someone clears their throat, causing the three of us to turn around. It's Penelope and Patrick. Penelope is holding a purple sweater that clashes with her baggy orange T-shirt. She waves at us. "Hey. I, uh, want to introduce you to someone. Jake and Gemma," Penelope says, "I'd like you to meet my brother, Patrick." She exchanges a nervous glance with Patrick. "We haven't, um, done the official DNA test, but we're biological siblings."

I roll my eyes. "Don't bleed us dry, Pen." I glance at Jake and Gemma. "They're twins. Patrick is seven minutes older than Penelope. They figured this out over baby pictures and adoption papers."

Penelope pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. "Thanks, Cassian." She gives an apologetic look to Jake and Gemma. "I didn't mean to outdo you. This was unexpected."

Gemma waves off her comment. "Don't worry about it," she replies, getting to her feet. She pops the last piece of pickle in her mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing. Then, she bounds over to Patrick and gives him a hug. "It's so nice to meet you, Patrick. I have to say, this is shocking, but I'm happy for you and Penelope. It must be nice to have some answers."

Although Patrick looks uncomfortable, he hugs Gemma back and reiterates her greeting. He shakes hands with Jake next and then turns to me. "Good to see you again, Cassian."

"You, too, Patrick," I reply. Now that he doesn't pose a threat to Penelope, I find I can relax around him. "Why don't you come and have a seat with us? Any relative of Penelope's is a friend of ours."

He glances at Penelope, his eyebrows raised in question. She nods, giving him a small smile. It's strange to watch their semi-awkward exchange, but I can't blame them. After years of being without a sibling, they've found each other. "Sure," Patrick replies after Penelope nods. "What are we celebrating?"

"Jake knocked Gemma up," I drawl. "Come sit and we'll tell you all about these two horny teenagers."

Patrick exchanges another glance with Penelope, and all she does is shake her head, a small smile on her lips. "You'll get used to them, trust me. Come on. You can sit beside me."