That’s when I locked eyes with a perplexed Hallie in the mirror. “What are you doing?” she asked, blinking at me.
“Nothing.” I snapped the visor shut and opened the door. “Come on, let’s go or we’ll be late.”
“But why were you smelling your hand like that?” she persisted as they scrambled out of the back seat.
“No reason.”
I opened the bakery door and followed them inside, relieved when I didn’t see Winnie behind the counter. The girls, however, were disappointed, and went rushing up to the woman standing near the register. She might have been Winnie’s stepmom—she seemed like the right age, and I thought she looked familiar. Maybe I’d seen her at the party last night.
“Hello,” she greeted them, her smile warm and welcoming. “What can I get for you?”
“Is Winnie here?” Hallie asked.
The woman looked surprised, then she laughed. “Not today. Do you know Winnie?”
“Yes, she’s our next door neighbor.”
“We met her yesterday,” Luna said excitedly. “Does she work here?”
“No, but she comes in here a lot. She’s my daughter.” She lowered her voice and spoke behind the back of her hand, like she was telling them a secret. “She says she comes here for me, but I think she just likes the free cupcakes.”
The girls laughed as I approached the counter. It smelled delicious in here—like sweet, buttery cinnamon rolls were in the oven. And something about the scent reminded me of Winnie . . . maybe because of the cupcake we’d shared last night?
“So you must be Hallie,” Winnie’s mom said, pointing to Hallie. “And you must be Luna.”
“Yes,” Luna said. “But how did you know?”
“Winnie told me all about you last night at the party.” She looked up at me with gray-green eyes that crinkled a little at the corner and smiled. “Hi. I’m Frannie MacAllister.”
“Dexter Matthews. It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too. I was sorry to hear about little Luna’s allergic reaction. I have sixteen-year-old twins, and one of them has terrible food allergies.” She hesitated, her expression turning apologetic. “I’m a client of Naomi’s at the salon, and we’ve chatted a little about the challenges of dealing with them. She was in here this morning, and I asked how Luna was—judging by her reaction, she hadn’t heard about it. I’m sorry if I caused any friction.”
Now it made sense. “No worries,” I said easily. “We’re divorced, but I spoke with her this morning.”
She nodded and turned her attention back to the girls. “Well. What can I get for you? And don’t worry—no nuts in anything!”
While the girls asked her about every single muffin, roll, and pastry under the glass, I checked my phone again to see if Chip had gotten back to me. He had—a couple minutes ago, he’d texted that they were just waking up and planning to have breakfast with his mom, sister, and stepdad at nine, but could swing by my place around eleven. All I had to do was give him the address.
I sent it to him and asked him to text me when he arrived, since we might already be at the pool. He immediately responded that was no problem and he’d see us soon.
“What about you, Dexter?” Frannie MacAllister asked once the girls had chosen their breakfast. “Can I get you something?”
I glanced at the display case and ordered a slice of quiche.
“Good choice,” she said. “The ham and gouda is one of Winnie’s favorites too. She might have even created this recipe—she’s an excellent cook.”
“Daddy is a terrible cook,” Hallie announced. “He tries, but he burns everything.”
Frannie laughed. “Winnie’s dad isn’t a very good cook either. But he’s good at other things, like I’m sure your dad is.”
“He’s good at putting out fires,” said Luna proudly. “He’s a firefighter.”
“That is a very important job.” Frannie smiled as she took a slice of quiche from the tray. “Now, will this be for here or to go?”
“To go,” I said, still a little wary of running into Winnie. “Thanks.”
A few minutes later, we were sitting in the church parking lot, the girls eating their muffins in the back seat, me devouring a slice of quiche in the front, trying to avoid getting anything on my white shirt. “Girls, could you please stop telling everyone you meet embarrassing things about me?”
“What kinds of things should we tell them?” Luna asked.
“How about saying nothing at all if you don’t have anything nice to say? Wasn’t that what Bambi said?”
“It was Thumper who said that, Daddy,” corrected Hallie.
“Whatever. Just no more telling people things like I snore or I swear or I have hair in my nose.”
“But you do,” Luna said with a laugh.
“Tell them about the hair on my chest. I like that hair.” I finished off the last bite of crust and checked the bag for a napkin. “Or my muscles. Can’t you guys tell people what big muscles I have?”
“We could,” allowed Hallie, “but muscles aren’t as funny as hair. And we decided we don’t care if you swear anymore.”
“You don’t?” No more napkins in the bag. I opened the glove box.
“No, because we need money in the box for Future Cat. So swear all you want.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, unable to find another napkin anywhere.
“That’s a dollar-fifty, Daddy.”
“A dollar-fifty!” I turned around and looked at them in the back seat. “You said yesterday the F word was only a buck.”
Hallie smiled sweetly. “Prices go up on Sunday.”
“Because of Jesus,” added Luna.
Turning around again, I grabbed the wheel and slumped down in my seat.
After church, I stood on the steps next to fucking Bryce for ten solid minutes while Naomi looked the girls over, as if she was expecting to find evidence of neglect. “You’re sure you’re all right?” she kept asking Luna.
“I’m fine, Mommy.”
Bryce kept busy on his phone the entire time, probably checking the value of his stock portfolio. He came from a wealthy family and never tired of telling people about his Harvard degree, his investments, or his sailboat. It drove me insane that once he married Naomi, my daughters were going to live in his house. They didn’t belong to him.
“Hals, do you want me to fix your pigtails? They’re not even.” Naomi reached for one of the elastics I’d put in.
Hallie pushed her hand away. “No, it’s okay. We’re just going swimming.”
“We have to go,” I said impatiently. “I’ll have them back by five.”
Naomi sighed and kissed them both. “Okay. Be careful in the pool please. And don’t forget sunscreen!”
I took the girls by the hands and walked them back to the car. On the ride home, I let them choose the music, and I think they knew I was bothered by something, because after I pulled into the garage and turned off the engine, Hallie unbuckled her seatbelt and hugged me from behind. “You get a ten this morning, Daddy.”
I patted her skinny forearm. “I do?”
“Yes.”
I looked over my shoulder at Luna. “Well, do you agree?”
“Yes,” she said, grinning at me. “It’s anonymous.”
“She means unanimous,” Hallie explained.
“Thank you.” I opened the car door, feeling a little better. “Who’s ready to go swimming?”
The girls had just gotten into their bathing suits when Chip and Mariah arrived. Since the kids were impatient to get in the water, we went out to the pool and sat in chairs near the edge. I sprayed Hallie and Luna down with sunscreen and made them wait a minute for it to dry, which they counted off standing on the pool’s top step, then jumped in.
While they played in the shallow end, Chip and Mariah talked a little about what I’d missed at the party and how they were anxious to come back and look at some wedding venues.
“I’ve heard Cloverleigh Farms is beautiful,”
Mariah said, “but Chip’s cousin Winnie mentioned Abelard Vineyards too.”
At the mention of Winnie’s name, my blood warmed, but I was careful not to visibly react. “I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s nice.”
“We thought about Chicago too, but we’re worried not everyone would be able to make the trip down, especially if we do it in the winter,” Chip said. “Mariah’s family doesn’t live too far from here, so this makes more sense.”
“You’re thinking this winter? Like before spring training?”
“Yeah.” Chip hesitated. “Actually, I’m thinking of retiring after this season.”
For the first time, I looked away from the kids. “Seriously?”
He shrugged. “My arm is shot, I’m tired, and I feel like I did what I wanted to do. I’m sort of ready for the next phase of my life. We’d like a family.”
I focused on my girls again. “Will it be hard to walk away?”
“If you’d have asked me that last year, I’d have said yes. But today, I can honestly say no.” He put an arm around Mariah and kissed her head. “There’s more to life than baseball.”
I laughed. “That’s something I never thought I’d hear Chip Carswell say.”
He chuckled too. “Times have changed, haven’t they? But after a while, you start to realize what really matters, and it’s not the money or the fame or the speed of your fastball.”
“I don’t know, those things sound pretty nice to me.”
“They are,” he said, “but I look at you and your girls and think it’s so fucking cool what you have. I’d easily walk away for that.”
“Can we watch our mouths around here, guys?” Mariah whispered, glancing around at all the families at the pool.
“I do love being their dad,” I said. “But I worry that the divorce is gonna mess with them forever. Or that I won’t able to give them everything they deserve. Or that I don’t have enough time with them.”
Mariah leaned over and touched my shoulder. “My dad raised me on his own until I was nine, and I know it’s not easy. He was a cop and worked long hours, and he used to worry about the same things. But the time he did have with me—he made it count. You do too, I can tell.”
“Can you find a job with more traditional hours?” asked Chip. “Would that help?”
“Maybe. But I can’t fucking sit behind a desk. And I like what I do and who I work with. I have decent benefits. I like having three days in a row off.” I shrugged. “I sometimes think about doing something on the side for a little extra, but I’m not sure what.”
“You should talk to Tyler,” Chip said. “He’s got that sports complex and I’m sure he could use you as a trainer. You’d be good at that. You know how many guys would love to be trained by a fucking Navy SEAL?”
“The problem is my schedule. It’s never the same week to week.”
“He’d work with you.” Chip was confident. “You should get in touch.”
“You guys should do something together,” suggested Mariah.
“You’re moving back?” I asked in surprise.
“We’re thinking about it.” He looked at his fiancée. “With her family and mine up here, we don’t really have a reason to stay in Chicago.”
“That would be cool,” I said. “We could round up Fitz and Jimmy, get the team back together.”
Chip laughed. “That would be something.”
“Oh my God, you guys should!” Mariah exclaimed. “My dad and his friends played in this senior men’s league while I was growing up—in fact, they’re still playing—and going to the games was so much fun.”
“Uh, I think some people might complain if we had a retired MLB pitcher in a senior men’s league,” I said.
“I’ll take a little something off my fastball,” joked Chip. “I’ll keep my eyes closed. We’ll put a fake name on my jersey.”
“You’d still strike out every jackass at the plate. We’d be disqualified before the inning was up.”
He grinned, looking eighteen again. “Be a hell of an inning though. Then we’d go for beers.”
“Fuck yeah,” I said. “Count me in.”
Eight
Winnie
Sunday morning, I woke up around nine, which was later than usual—probably because I’d lain awake half the night thinking about that kiss.
That kiss.
Rolling onto my side, I hugged a body pillow close to me, arms and legs wrapped around it. If I closed my eyes and held my breath, I could transport myself right back to that electric moment when we’d both stood up at the same time, as if it had been choreographed by divine intervention.
Neither of us had moved. Time stopped ticking. My heart hung suspended in my chest, poised to fall.
And then—and then—he’d taken me by the shoulders and crushed that mouth to mine, the one I’d been thinking about all day. Usually, his jaw was all clenched and tight, but suddenly his lips were open, his tongue was on mine, his scruff brushing against my skin.
I’d felt that kiss right down to my toes.
Then all of a sudden, it was over. And he was gone.
Moaning, I rolled onto my back and burrowed under the sheet again. Kissing me had obviously been an impulsive move on his part, and judging by the apology that immediately followed, one he felt bad about.
But there was no reason he should regret it. And I hoped he didn’t think I was mad about it . . . I’d enjoyed every second of that kiss.
That kiss.
But still, it was probably best if it never happened again.
Not only because it could make for an awkward situation having to live next door to each other, but because I knew myself—I could easily start to crave the way he’d made my heart pound, the way he’d given me butterflies, the way he’d stolen that kiss from me like he knew he couldn’t afford it but he had to have it anyway.
Bringing my fingers to my lips, the swoony feeling came over me again, and I let the hum reverberate throughout my body. I pictured him, and heat began to pool at my center. The eyes. The mouth. The shoulders. The chest. The arms. Those hands that gripped my ass and moved me like he owned me.
I let my imagination travel down his body to places I hadn’t seen . . . rippling abs. A deep, sexy V line. A big, hard cock. His weight between my legs.
My hand moved down my chest, slipping into my underwear, my fingers easing between my thighs.
Then I sat up and swung my feet to the floor. “No, no, no. I’m not going there. It was one kiss, it happened, it’s done. I’m not allowed to obsess over it. I am the boss of my feelings.”
But I wasn’t feeling particularly bossy there in bed, so I got up, used the bathroom, and threw some workout clothes on. Grabbing my yoga mat from my closet, I went downstairs and spread it out in the living room. Normally, I didn’t do anything without having a cup of coffee in the morning, but this seemed like an emergency situation—I needed to distract my mind and body with something more physical, channel the pent-up energy into something more productive than getting myself off.
Twenty minutes later, I felt more centered, relaxed, and in control. When I checked my phone, I saw a message from Ellie. Coffee and power walk this morning?
Sure, I replied. Meet at P & H? My mom’s coffee at the pastry shop was the best.
Give me twenty, she texted back.
I sent her a thumbs up and went upstairs to make my hair more presentable and put on socks and shoes. At the top of the steps, I stopped and pressed my ear to the wall, on the other side of which was the smaller of the two bedrooms of Dex’s unit.
Would it be the girls’ room? Were they getting ready for church? Already there? Or what if he’d given them the master with its own bathroom and taken the smaller bedroom for himself? Was he in there getting dressed?
Frowning, I pushed myself away from the wall. It was going to take some effort today to keep him from infiltrating every thought.
I had to be vigilant, which meant no stalking or spying. I needed
to ditch the Gladys Kravitz routine and put my energy into something else—maybe while we walked, Ellie and I could plan a road trip or something. Or brainstorm a new guest amenity at Cloverleigh Farms. Or partner up on some autumn wine tastings—Cloverleigh and Abelard.
I needed a distraction.
“Hi, Mom,” I called, entering Plum & Honey and holding the door open for an elderly couple on their way out. Even though she was technically my stepmom, I’d been calling her Mom since she married my dad.
“Hi, sweetie.” She smiled at me from behind the counter. “What are you up to today?”
“Meeting Ellie here for coffee and then we’re going to take a power walk.”
“Nice. Want coffee to go or for here?”
I glanced around. Plum & Honey only had a few tiny tables, but there was one open. “For here.”
“You got it.” She placed two cups and saucers on the marble counter and began to fill them from the pot. “Did you have fun last night?”
Immediately I thought about the kiss, although I knew she was referring to the party. “Yes.”
“Mariah seems sweet.” She replaced the coffee pot in the machine.
“She does.”
“And young.”
“She’s only ten years younger than Chip, Mom. Same as you and Dad.”
“I know.” Shaking her head, she took a couple scones from the case and put them on two plates. “I guess I feel like twenty-four is very young to make a lifelong commitment. You hardly know who you are yet.”
I rolled my eyes. “You were what, twenty-seven when you married Dad?”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Okay, twenty-eight. That’s only a few years’ difference.”
“I know, I know.” She laughed at herself. “Maybe I’m just remembering the panic I felt when I thought you were getting married at twenty-two.”
My smile faded. “That’s different. Merrick was obviously not the right choice for a lifelong commitment, but it doesn’t mean I wasn’t ready to make one.”
“I know.” She held up her hands. “And I remember very well what it was like to be young and want to make my own decisions, whether they were mistakes or not. You have to be free to stumble along the path, which is why I didn’t say anything negative to you about Merrick even though I knew all along he was not the one for you.”
Ignite: A Grumpy Single Dad Romance Page 8