Happily Ever His (Singletree #1)

Juliet in her room, and stepped into my own room a few feet down the corridor.
I needed a moment before I could attempt to act like a normal person and help Ryan find something to eat. I stepped into my own room’s ensuite bathroom and closed the door behind me.
I stared into the mirror. I could handle this. I could figure out how to form coherent words around my sister’s new boyfriend, and I could figure out how to stifle the pointless jealousy I felt that of all the men in the world, she had chosen him.
It was ridiculous to be jealous. That’s just how her life was.
But it was difficult for me ever to prepare myself for the churn of feelings my sister stirred up in me. It was like the second she was near, I shrank down and became invisible. Now, as grownups, I felt like I should have been able to hold my own. I wasn’t an insecure teenager anymore, after all. And I loved my sister, I really did. But she had a way of sucking all the air out of a space, of pulling every eye and mind and leaving no room for anyone else.
And God, having her here with Ryan McDonnell? I was going to be a disaster all weekend.
“It’ll be fine,” I told myself. “Once you get past your fanatic crush and see that he’s just a normal person, it’ll be fine.”
He was just a normal, very hot person who, of course, probably loved my sister.
And why wouldn’t he love Juliet? Everyone always had. Hell, even I loved Juliet in a ridiculously overprotective and self-sacrificing way. That was just the effect she had on people. That was what compelled people to her on screen.
It was kind of like the effect Ryan had on me. I would have been happy just to watch him move. Hell, I’d be happy watching him breathe.
“Tess?” I heard his deep voice just outside my door and my heart hammered into action. So much for normal.
“Yes, coming,” I called back, my own voice sounding high and bizarre, like a crazed squirrel. I stepped back out into the hallway to find him standing in a fitted white South Bay Sharks T-shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and his hair wet and pushed away from his face. He smelled like soap and something else I could only describe as absolute manly perfection. With a hint of mint.
“I’ll show you the kitchen,” I managed to say. I found it was easier to speak to him if I didn’t look at him. Or breathe. Or think too much. “We’ve got some leftovers from dinner.”
I turned and we went down the stairs, my hyperawareness of Ryan’s presence at my back making me feel dizzy and loopy. Still, we arrived in the long galley kitchen without incident, and I waved toward the little table at the side of the space.
“This house is amazing,” he said, wandering the length of the counter and peering out the windows toward the back yard. At the end of the counter were bags of flour and cans of cherries and a huge block of dark chocolate I’d gotten from the little chocolate store in town. “And whatever is about to happen here looks pretty amazing, too.”
“Oh, that’s going to be a cake,” I told him. “If I can figure out how to actually bake.”
He looked over his shoulder at me, shooting me a smile that might have actually caused my panties to disintegrate.
I was so screwed.
“I’m a decent baker, actually,” he said.
“Really?”
“Black forest cake?” He asked, holding up a can of cherries.
“Gran’s favorite.” I was leaning against the counter next to the refrigerator, my arms crossed over my chest as I considered him. I didn’t really need new reasons to appreciate the man, but if he could actually help me make the cake I’d promised Gran, I might be willing to add baking to the things I loved about him. “I ordered a bunch of decorations to put on top… but the actual making of the cake might be a little beyond me. I can cook. But baking…”
“Consider it done,” he said, putting down the can and smiling. “Maybe I can earn my keep here for the weekend.”
I was about to respond when I heard some kind of commotion coming from the east wing of the house, just to the other side of the kitchen. Chessy was upset about something. “Ah, just a minute,” I told Ryan, turning to find out what had the hen indignant at this late hour.
I found her clucking outside one of the bedrooms I’d set up for the security team, pacing back and forth. She stopped when she saw me, squinting up at me.
“You’re coming on too strong,” I told her. “You can’t throw yourself at him. And you can’t force your way into his room, Chess.” I scooped her up, and she settled against my chest, seeming to accept my chicken-crush wisdom. “Let him get some sleep,” I suggested. “You can charm him tomorrow.”
I carried Chessy back to the little dog bed where she slept, which I’d tucked beneath an end table in the parlor when I’d moved Gran’s computer. We’d have to move this before the magazine people showed up too, I realized.
Back in the kitchen, Ryan was poking around, investigating things. He looked so handsome with his slicked back hair, his strong broad chest. I could have just watched him forever. But he caught me staring.
“That sounded… odd,” he said, the bright smile lighting his eyes.
“That was Chessy. Gran’s pet chicken.”
Ryan nodded. “Pet chicken. Right.”
“What? You don’t have a pet chicken that lives inside your house and develops misplaced crushes on the security teams that pop in ahead of your famous sister?” I grinned.
“No, I do not,” he said. “I’ll look into that. Hadn’t considered chickens as possible pets.”
I looked around to make sure Chessy hadn’t followed me in. “I don’t recommend them. Very needy.”
He chuckled, and then looked back toward the