Status Updates From Porter's Angel

Cadence dipped her spoon into the spongy outer layer. The gooey peach erupted into the center. She brought the warm cake to her lips, savoring its sweetness. “We need Funches’s recipe.”
Porter’s leg ran against her knee. “Dirt,” he said. “Growls, lots of cussing, and if you don’t do that, none of it will come out right.”
She almost choked.

“Can I trust you to behave yourself?” she asked.
He was taken aback. “Definitely,” he said. “You’re safe with me.”
Not really… although he’d protect her with his life, he guessed that wasn’t what she meant.

He parked. Her hand flipped off the buckle of her seatbelt and found the handle for a quick escape like she was in training to be Houdini. She pushed the door open and then jerked it closed again, swinging around to face him so fast that he had to swallow. Twice.
“Hey, uh…” She seemed to be weighing her words. “I know we talked about this before, but please… don’t tell anyone about me.”
There it was again.

The screen door opened behind her and Cadence turned. She froze.
What was Porter doing in Lily’s kitchen? Judging by his surprised expression at seeing her, he might ask her the same thing.
“Porter!” Lily beamed up at him with the same adoration when she talked about her sons. Wait, was this…? Was he…? “Angel, this is my boy, Porter,” Lily said.
So, he was!

Cadence straightened in alarm.
The Slades!
She studied the family with nervous interest. A man to the side of the child wrestled him back. She recognized his strong profile this time.
She should’ve known those broad shoulders. Porter’s thick, dirty blond hair curled against his strong neck. It was just the length that she liked it. Perfect for running her fingers through.
And where had that insane thought come from?

"Just don’t tell anyone I’m here, okay?" she said. "It’s the least you can do.”
“Wait," he said. "Emily doesn’t know?”
“Yes, she does. She’s the only one and I want to keep it that way!” The stunning spitfire watched Porter like he was a dumb box of rocks. “I figure you owe me after everything that you’ve done.”
For startling her awake? The way he saw it, she almost owed him a new head.

“Let me go!” she shrieked.
“Why?” he growled out. “So you can try to hit me again?” He grappled with this squirming woman, trying to get ahold of her, and—heaven help him--she was all soft curves and warmth. Her thick curly hair tickled his jaw. Wow. She smelled great. Porter blew a curl away from his nose. His hand went to her wrist to pry that lethal lamp from her fingers. “Let it go,” he said.