She was grasping much more than she’d ever have given her credit for.
“Go to sleep. We can talk about this later. I’m not getting married any time soon. But I wouldn’t mind spending more time with Clayton and his girls.”
Emma nodded. That seemed to suffice all the curiosity from her daughter.
Vivian closed her eyes again and smiled in the dark. They wanted a daddy. In the past six months, she’d seen that stranger things could happen—even she could get a man who was interested.
Because they’d fallen asleep at Clayton’s, Vivian’s girls must have gotten much more sleep than she had. She was exhausted.
The girls were plopped down in front of the TV watching a movie while she watched the pot of coffee brew.
It had been decided she and the girls would move to the old house on Main and Pine. Brock and Clayton had already purchased paint and made plans for the bedroom.
She closed her eyes and breathed in the moment. He’d had eyes for her since the moment he’d knocked on the door.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. She opened her eyes, took down a coffee mug, and waited.
The kiss he’d planted on her had rocked her. Every nerve in her body still sparked and when she even thought about the kiss—she grew warm.
They didn’t have plans to see each other today, but she couldn’t help but hope that something would come up and he’d come by. After all, she had to pack up the few things they still possessed after the tornado. He always seemed to show up when she needed him.
A surge passed through her and she let out a near moan—she certainly needed him.
Chapter Seven
Charlotte had woken up early and now was taking a nap. Stephanie had asked to watch “Frozen” again, and to keep her quiet Clayton had let her.
But as he cleaned his kitchen and swapped out laundry, he really wanted to be with Vivian.
A half hour later, Charlotte woke up crying and Stephanie was now asleep on the couch. At what point would he even get them out of the house for some sun?
As he carried the laundry basket to the bedroom, he noticed the papers on his desk. With a grunt, he gave up all hope of kissing the woman who had made him feel whole again—even if only for a few moments. He had lesson plans to finish and papers to grade. It didn’t look like he was going to be able to just drop by and see her as he’d planned.
Setting the basket on his bed, he took out the first dress and set it into Charlotte’s pile and repeated the process. When his phone rang, he nearly jumped over the bed to grab it off the nightstand. Everything in him surged to life and he hoped Vivian was on the other end of the line.
He slid his finger over the screen, “Hello.” His voice had even sounded chipper. When was the last time that had happened?
“Clayton,” the woman’s voice on the other end said softly.
That surge of life, which had bubbled inside of him when the phone range, sizzled away.
“Dorothy.” His voice dropped and his heart squeezed until it hurt. “How are you?”
Linda’s mother let out a dreadful sigh, which had Clayton sitting down on the bed.
“Good days. Bad days.”
He understood that well enough. Up until she’d called, it had been one of his good days.
Dorothy let out another noise—a groan. “How are my granddaughters? I miss them so much.”
The pain in his chest intensified. “They’re doing well. They start in a new daycare center tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful. Are they making friends?”
That made him smile. “As a matter of fact, they are. The woman with the daycare center has girls the same ages as mine. They have quickly become best friends.”
“That makes me happy.” Her voice had risen and he knew she needed to know that. “How about you? Are you doing okay?”
She’d always been considerate of him. He appreciated that. “I am. The new job is going well.”
“And friends. Have you made any new friends?”
When she mentioned it, the flutters of life moved inside of him again. “I have made some good friends. A few couples and a woman who lost her husband in June.”
“Oh, Clayton. There is too much of this going on.”
“Hers died in combat.”
“God bless him.” She was silent for a few moments. “Will you bring the girls home for Christmas? I know we would all love to see them. We miss you all so much.”
Clayton hadn’t much thought about it. He should go back for Christmas. He’d moved from Seattle to mend himself, but he knew it had only made things worse for everyone else.
“I’ll consider it.”
“I hope you will. Will you have the girls call me on Tuesday night? We got that Skype stuff figured out on my computer. I can’t wait to see the girls again.”
It brought a smile to his face when he remembered Skyping with her the first time “I’ll make sure we do. The girls will love to see you.”
She said her goodbyes and Clayton disconnected the call. He felt the lead ball of guilt dropping in his stomach. He sat down on the bed and fell back. Laundry—or anything else—didn’t seem so important now.
Moving away from Seattle was supposed to make him move on. But he missed Linda every day—or he had until this morning when he woke and she wasn’t the very first thing on his mind. Vivian had taken that place this morning.
~*~
Sam had called and let Vivian know that the man who had lent them the townhouse had a renter. It was official. She had four days to get out. Luckily they had nothing and Penelope was all moved out of the old house. She just wished all the bedrooms had been finished.
Really, why did she care? It was still nicer than the house she lived in that she and Adam had bought.
Every box she packed she set by the front door and checked her phone for the time. The entire day had passed and Clayton hadn’t called, texted, or dropped by.
Every time she checked the time, a part of her heart began to harden. It had been a mistake that kiss Clayton had planted on her. It had been wrong to inhale it, hold it, to want it. She should have socked him in the gut.
But she hadn’t, so now she was nursing a broken heart.
It was nearly six o’clock when Emma tugged on her shirt. “Are we having dinner?”
The question only added to her heartbreak. She’d neglected her children all day as she’d packed. She’d thrown together some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. Cut up an apple for snack. They’d watched movies, packed up their toys, and stayed out of her way. It wasn’t that she was too busy—they didn’t have very many possessions. She was just preoccupied in thought—about Clayton.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Why don’t we drive over to McDonald’s? I’ll buy you a Happy Meal since you’ve been so patient with me today.”
Emma’s eyes opened wide and she immediately ran to collect her sister. Vivian decided that might have been the only thing that had made her smile all day.
They were on the road in less than five minutes. She thought it was funny how easily you could bribe children with junk food. She was smart to save the bribe though. She figured her kids had only had maybe three Happy Meals ever. Yes, it was better kept for a treat.
Once their order was placed they found a table near the play yard. She’d remembered how Clayton had reacted to the ball pit at the pizza restaurant. She wondered how he’d react to something like a playground like this.
“I guess we parent alike.”
Vivian looked up at the voice that had been in her head all day. Her mouth was full of hamburger, so all she could do was swallow hard when she saw Clayton standing above her with a tray of food.
“What are you guys doing here?”
He set the tray down at the table next to them as the girls went about gabbing as if they hadn’t seen each other less than twenty-four hours ago.
“I’m bribing kids. They’ve never had a Happy Meal and I wasn’t in the mood to cook. Though I now have cl
ean dishes, thank you.”
“They’ve never had a Happy Meal?”
He shook his head as he handed each girl her box. “No. Linda was very specific about it. I would have let them junk out a few times, but it wasn’t part of her parenting model.”
“And you’ve stuck to it?”
“It was one of the best ways I could honor her.”
She couldn’t help but notice his voice dragged when he spoke and his eyes were sad. Suddenly she wondered what might have happened.
He sat next to her on the bench, though at the other table with his girls. In what seemed like a quick moment, the girls were done and had run off to play in the play yard, leaving only trash and half eaten hamburgers in their wake.
Clayton’s hunched shoulders and quiet mannerism had her worried. She wasn’t one to not stick her nose into things. However, now wasn’t the time to start sitting back and being quiet.
“Is everything okay? You look upset.”
He lifted his head and looked at her. With a forced smile, he slid across the booth until he was seated next to her.
Even though he looked miserable, just having him sitting right next to her made her body buzz just as it had last night.
“I got a phone call this morning from Linda’s mom.”
“Oh,” she said as she felt her own mood sink.
“She misses the girls and wants to see them.”
“Of course she does.”
Clayton ran his hands over his hair. “I needed to get away from it all. Two years among it nearly drove me mad. But I hurt everyone when I left.”
“You can’t feel guilty.”
“Oh, yes I can,” he said reaching for her hand and holding it in his.
It seemed so natural and suddenly she wanted to cry. He needed comfort—from her.
“Are you considering moving back?” She had to ask, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.
“The thought crossed my mind about ten minutes after I moved here. But then I met you and the girls met your girls. I feel as though I’ve become friends with Sam and Brock and, well,” he finally smiled. “I feel like I belong here.”
That was more of what she wanted to hear.
“Can I be honest? I thought maybe you regretted our kiss last night.”
He turned and narrowed his gaze on her. “Why would you think that?”
“I’ve become accustomed to you just showing up when I need you. Even when I don’t know that I need you.”
He lifted his hand to her cheek and then brushed his fingers back into her hair. “I woke up this morning wanting to run over to your house. All it would have taken was to tell the girls we could go play and they’d have been in the car. But when Dorothy, Linda’s mother,” he explained. “When she called me and she sounded so broken, I just couldn’t do anything but lay on my bed.”
“You have a good relationship with her family?”
A faint smile crossed his lips. “Yes. I couldn’t have asked for better in-laws.”
Jealousy shot through her. Wouldn’t that have been nice? She’d spent more time with Adam’s parents over the past year than she had with her own. But it was never pleasant. She wouldn’t have called them ideal. Even Frank was a bit moody. And Stella—well, what could she say that was nice? Nothing.
The sound of giggling caught their attention and they both turned their heads to see the girls standing inside the play structure looking at them. Their gazing into each other’s eyes had set the four little girls into a fit of delighted giggles. When they’d looked at them, all four of them ducked.
Clayton shook his head. “We’ve been caught.”
“Oh, if only they’d seen us last night.” She felt the heat rise in her cheeks when she thought about it. “I enjoyed it, by the way. I want you to know.”
“I did too.”
Her mind wandered to the conversation she’d had with her girls in the middle of the night. “My girls thought we should get married so they could be sisters with your girls.”
Clayton burst into laughter, which caught her off guard and became contagious. “Mine mentioned that. Do you think they saw us?”
“And moved from in front of the TV? No way.”
He looked back at the play yard and saw a few sets of eyes peering through a round window in a colorful tube. “Should we make them scream?”
Vivian’s eyes followed to where he’d been looking. “What did you have in mind?”
He didn’t tell her his plan. Instead he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. The squeals from the colorful tube ignited and Vivian’s lips curled into a smile under Clayton’s.
As he pulled back, he looked toward the girls. “I knew that would get them.”
“What are they going to think?”
“That their parents are happy.”
And she was. It had been a very long time since she had been.
“I have to work tomorrow,” Clayton began.
“So do I,” Vivian interrupted with a grin.
“Yes you do.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “I was thinking, why don’t you all come over for a little while? Not as late as last night of course.”
Vivian gave some thought. “Why don’t you come to our house? I have a few more boxes to pack.”
“Moving are you? Officially?”
“Yes. Sam got a call today that the owner has a renter.”
“I guess we’d better get to working on that room for you. Brock has some grand plans.”
“Does he? He’d better get busy on it. He’s going to have his hands full soon.”
“I think he’ll make a good father.”
That warmed her. “You know, I think he will too.”
Chapter Eight
There was no reason for Vivian to think about apologizing for the state of her house. After all, he knew she was moving and she’d washed his sink full of dishes.
The thought made her chuckle as he walked through the front door.
With a grand sweeping look he said, “It’s a shame to give up this place. It’s nice.”
“Thousand times better than the dump we lived in on the edge of town. But the old house will be nice too—for now.”
The girls ran off to play with a warning from Clayton, “One hour. I have school tomorrow and you start the new daycare.”
That was met with screams of anticipation rather than the grunts she’d expected on the hour time frame.
“And I still have lesson plans to write,” he muttered.
“I thought you were going to do that today.”
Clayton shrugged. “Dorothy’s phone call kinda threw me off my game. Not kinda,” he reconsidered. “It did. It’s been a few weeks since I was immobile and unable to do anything.”
Vivian realized she really hadn’t had too many of those days. The ones she’d had weren’t because Adam was gone. It was because he’d screwed her over.
“Can I get you something to drink? I don’t have much. Maybe a glass of wine, a juice box, milk, or water.”
“Is it too late for coffee?”
“Not if you have to do lesson plans,” she teased as she walked toward the kitchen.
On autopilot she went about making coffee—filling water, scooping coffee grounds, pulling down mugs. But when she turned he was right there.
His hands came to her hips and their bodies quickly pressed against each other. Clayton’s mouth moved to hers swiftly and devoured her in a kiss that had her bracing against the counter to keep standing.
His hand moved from her hip to her cheek, and into her hair. The kiss grew deeper—hotter—until she released the counter and locked her arms around the man making her mind numb.
How could this man be so distraught over his wife and then kiss the strength out of her bones? And why was she letting him? There should be some common sense to step away until he’d recovered from what had happened to his wife, but she couldn’t seem to make the step. Though just as quickly she thought about being just a replacement and
she didn’t want that either.
But damn, he tasted so good and her gooey insides were too enjoyable to not appreciate.
When his lips finally slipped from hers, his forehead remained pressed against hers.
“I would have much rather done that all day,” he said, his voice low and thick.
This would be the perfect time to stall this relationship—or fling—they seemed to be starting. Okay, maybe just a good time to feel it out.
“Does it bother you to kiss me like this when you’ve been upset over your wife all day?”
Clayton stepped back from her and let his hands slide down to grasp hers. “I can’t get her back. I can’t dwell on what was taken from me. It hurts. It hurts so damn much there are days like today that I’m immobilized.” He moved back toward her. “And then there are kisses like that that make me feel again. There is still a stirring in me to be part of something. I want to love again.”
That was a warning to her and she slid away from beneath him and turned her attention to the coffee maker.
“I said something wrong.” He moved toward the table and let out a deep breath.
“It’s nothing. Really.”
“It can’t be nothing or you would have let me kiss you again.”
Vivian took the pot of coffee and poured the mugs full. Setting the pot back on the warmer, she turned to face him.
“I’ve only ever been with Adam. And obviously that was a long time ago. I don’t want to be the person someone uses to move on from a bad situation.”
She saw a spark of something in his eyes. Was it anger? Regret?
“You think that’s what I’m doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re doing. You just keep showing up and then we’re kissing.”
“You were kissing me too.”
“I know.” She let her shoulders drop and let the anger blow out of her lungs. “I know.”
Clayton rubbed the whiskers on his cheeks. Obviously he’d been distraught enough he hadn’t shaved, but Vivian couldn’t help but think it had given him a sexy edge. Then again, here she was arguing with him over what they’d been doing—thinking he was sexy wasn’t helping.
Vivian Page 5