Penny's POV
By the time Nick and Dad are gone for his interview, the house feels lighter. Mom hums at the sink, sunlight pouring through the kitchen window. Andrew leans against the counter, sleeves rolled, towel draped over his shoulder, looking like some domestic fantasy I never knew I needed.
I sneak a grape from the fruit bowl. He catches my wrist mid-theft, smirking. "You Clarke kids are menaces."
"Correction," I say sweetly. "Nick's the menace. I'm an angel."
"Mm," Andrew hums, stepping closer, voice dropping. "You're many things, Penny. Angel is not one of them."
Heat curls in my stomach at the way he says it. His lips brush my ear, his hand sliding to my hip.
"Children," Mom calls from behind us, as if on cue. "Not on my clean counters, please."
I jolt, face blazing, while Andrew just grins, unbothered. "Yes, ma'am," he says, giving me a wink.
Mom's laugh fills the room. "Oh, you two."
God help me.
