Free In MIB Custody [The Service Club 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by Tonya Ramagos

refrigerator. “Her name is Madeline, but I always called her Maddie.”
    “You grew up with a housekeeper?” She wouldn’t have been surprised if he had grown up on a ranch like most of the people in Horn Hill. Lowell had grown up with his grandparents on a ranch, and they’d had a cook. He had sold the ranch after his grandparents had passed barely two years before he had left town. He might be a cowboy from the brim of his Stetson to the toe of his boots, but he hadn’t wanted any part of owning a ranch. He had been hell bent on upholding the law.
    Too hell bent. She squashed the thought before it went any further.
    “Didn’t you tell me you were raised in the city?”
    “I did and I was. Washington, DC.” Zane straightened, pushed the refrigerator closed with one knee, and moved to the counter to offload his findings.
    “He tends to think if people know he’s independently rich, they’ll think he’s a snob.”
    “People do treat me differently.” Zane didn’t take his focus off his chore. “Very few people know, including those in the bureau, and I plan to keep it that way.”
    Danica curled her fingers around the tabletop beneath her bottom and watched him. He moved gracefully around her kitchen, the muscles in his back and shoulders flexing as he sliced, mixed, seasoned, and sampled. Every movement he made was decisive. Muscle and sinew on his forearm tightened as he opened a bottom cabinet, pulled out a nonstick skillet, and set it on the stovetop. He didn’t ask where she kept anything, leading her to believe he had already figured it out earlier when he had gone in search of something to fix, or she simply stored everything in the most obvious places.
    “Just how rich are you?” She didn’t care. He could have two pennies and a dime to his name, and she wouldn’t care any less. Yet, the way he made it would like he was the sole heir to Bill Gates’s fortune did stroke her curiosity.
    “Enough I would never have to work a day in my life if I didn’t want to.” He dumped the sliced chicken and sauce mixture into the pan, set the stove eye to medium heat, and dug in a nearby drawer for a spatula. “I come from a long line of miners, oilers, brokers, and bankers. All businessmen who worked or still work for the money that continues to grow and feed our family tree.”
    “Is the FBI starting a new branch on that tree or making one stronger?”
    He shot her a half smile over his shoulder as he reached for the plate of vegetables he had sliced. “Nice analogy.”
    Danica shrugged. “I’m a writer. My editor tells me I should stay away from them, but I rarely listen. I do attempt to steer clear of the clichéd ones, though.”
    “If my family has their way, my branch will fall off the tree when I’m gone.”
    “Black sheep, huh?” She could relate. She had been the black sheep of the whole town her entire life. Not that the townsfolk really treated her as such. Still, she was the different branch on the town tree, the one most prayed no one else decided to follow no matter how successful she became.
    “There seems to be one in every family. I’m ours.”
    “It doesn’t seem to bother you much.” She saw Lowell look at her out of the corner of her eye, the expression on his face telling her it stuck in Zane’s craw far more than he would ever admit.
    “Why should it? It’s their problem, not mine, right?”
    Who was he trying to convince, her or himself? Danica got the impression it was the latter, and the poor darling had been working to convince himself of it most of his life.
    “Damn right it is,” Lowell said before Danica got the chance. “You didn’t go to New York like you always said you were gonna. What stopped you?”
    It took Danica a moment to realize Lowell had changed the subject and that the spotlight was back on her. Making the transition took her additional time when he traced a fingertip around her softened nipple as he spoke.
    So this was how tonight was going