Free White Lilies (A Mitchell Sisters Novel) by Samantha Christy Page A

hamburger, and putting ingredients into a pot of sauce.
    “So, what kind of job did you have earlier?” I ask.
    He stirs the sauce exactly like I showed him. “It was for Vogue. Their regular photographer got held up in L.A., so they called me in. I’ve done stuff for them before.”
    “Vogue, really?” I try not to sound too impressed, but I totally am. “What did you shoot?”
    “It was a Valentine’s Day spread,” he tells me.
    “Isn’t it kind of early for that, like six months early?”
    “That’s how far out they shoot them,” he says.
    “It must be pretty great for a guy like you to be surrounded by hot models all the time,” I say.
    “Nah, not really,” he says, shrugging it off. “Most of them get Photoshopped anyway. They’ve got nothing on Erin and you.”
    I give him my ‘have you grown a third arm?’ look.
    “What?” he says. “It’s true. You and Erin could both be models.”
    “Erin could be a model,” I say. “She’s gorgeous.”
    “Don’t sell yourself short, Skylar,” he says. “You’re very beautiful, too. You are much more natural than the models I shoot. They’re all anorexic. You are real. And that dress you have on today, it really brings out the green in your eyes. You really look great.”
    I smirk when he quickly averts his eyes from the cleavage that still shows above my apron. I grab a disposable tasting spoon and reach into the pan to take another bite of sausage.
    Griffin eyes me. “You’re going to get fat eating that much meat,” he jokes. “Isn’t that like your millionth taste?”
    My jaw drops. “I know you didn’t just call out a pregnant woman for eating,” I scold him.
    “I was teasing,” he says, rolling his eyes.
    “Do you not read any of the books Erin buys for you?” I spit at him. “I mean, it’s Pregnancy 101: don’t call a pregnant woman fat.”
    “I wasn’t calling you fat,” he says, shaking his head. “I said you would get fat if you kept eating. There’s a difference. I wasn’t sure you were aware of the fact that you’d eaten half the sausage.”
    “Ugh!” I pout, stomping my foot. He just did it again. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t actually say those exact words,” I say. “It still makes me feel self-conscious. I mean, imagine you were going to get fatter than you’ve ever been, but you couldn’t do anything to stop it. And then someone points out how much you eat.”
    He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It won’t happen again. For Christ’s sake, Sky, you’re thin and healthy. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it.”
    I throw the spoon into the trash with so much force that it bounces back out. “Skylar,” I say. “My name is Skylar. Not Sky.”
    “Geez, Skylar ,” he says, putting emphasis on my name. He walks over and picks the spoon up off the floor, depositing it back into the trash. “Those pregnancy hormones are really doing a number on you.”
    My lips come together, forming a thin line as my eyes spit fire. What a jackass. I can’t believe this man made me come in my dreams. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask.
    “Don’t say fuck,” he says.
    “I’ll say fuck if I want to say fuck,” I bellow out, causing my kitchen staff to stop and watch our exchange. “First you tell me how hot I am, even though you’re married—to my best friend, I might add. Then you say I’m fat, and now I’m hormonal? Griffin, you’re batting a fucking thousand today.”
    He comes close and whispers through gritted teeth into my ear. “Will. You. Please. Stop. Saying. Fuck?” Each word a staccato that has his hot breath flowing over my neck. I almost have to leave the kitchen. Pissed off Griffin is even hotter than regular Griffin.
    He pulls away and tries to speak so only I can hear. “Listen, Skylar,” he says quietly, holding me in place with his stare. “First of all, Erin told me to compliment you. She said pregnant women feel