The house smells like being at the ocean, along with a sweet citrusy scent, as if there were a bunch of Starburst candies lying around. I take a deep breath in and some of my anxiety fades from the aroma alone.
“Like it, huh?”
I open my eyes to find Lucas smiling at me. The expression softens the harsh lines of his face, reminding me of teenage Lucas and causing my heart to skip a beat. Time has been good to him. If anything, he’s even more attractive than when we were kids. “What is it?”
“Blue Odyssey. It’s a plugin by Glade.” He turns and heads up the stairs.
Not surprised. Lucas always did enjoy the different aromas in my parents’ home. Mother was always switching things up. From fresh cut flowers to candles to pine cones and whatever else she could find. Lucas’s mom didn’t have a lot of extra cash around to spend on things that weren’t necessities.
I swallow and shake my head to chase away the thoughts, but when I gaze ahead, my eyes land on Lucas’s ass. Christ. Not where I wanted my mind to wander, but I couldn’t seem to force myself to look away either. Through his well-fitting jeans, I could tell his ass was round and firm, more muscular than when I used to slide my hand into his back pocket in between classes. My fingers twitch at the memory, a leftover reflex from when I used to reach out and squeeze it.
I dig my nails into the cardboard box instead. What the heck? Impulsive butt grabbing is a bad idea. Very, very bad. I’m in this situation because I need insurance, not to rekindle a romance with my high school flame.
By the time we reach the landing, my impulses are back under control. We stop in the small loft, and Lucas points to a door down the hall. “Bathroom’s on the left.”
“Thanks.” I nod. “Is that my room on the right?”
Lucas stills like he’s listening for something, and his jaw tenses again. When he doesn’t speak, I spin around, looking for the source of his tension. But we’re the only two in the house, so I’m not sure what just happened.
“That’s my son’s room.”
“Oh. Mason, right.” A mix of happiness and grief had washed over me when I read he had a child in the multi-page document that was sent over, just like now. The day I’d ended things with Lucas, I’d done so deliberately, because I hadn’t wanted my illness to hold him back. It hadn’t seemed right to saddle him with a chronically ill girlfriend, especially one who had no clue what her own future had in store.
That hadn’t prevented my heart from shattering into a million pieces, though.
Now, I know more about what I want…and don’t want. Children fall in the latter category. Not my own biological children, at least. I was glad for Lucas. Making sure he could have that kind of happiness was a lot of why I’d broken up with him.
I pull my shoulders back and inhale a deep breath, ready to avoid the emotions threatening to bubble up inside. “So, where am I sleeping?”
“My room.” Lucas makes his way down the hall to our right as I stand grounded in place. My pulse accelerates while my mouth goes dry. When he reaches the white door at the end, he peers back over his shoulder, a mischievous grin stretching over his face. “Kidding. This is your room.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Thank the Lord. On so many levels. This whole situation isn’t supposed to be a lifelong partnership. Sharing a bedroom would complicate matters, and my life is complicated enough already. At least he’s joking around, though. It’s better than him not speaking at all. A lot better.
I smile and head over to him, the abdominal cramps loosening their hold a little. When I walk into the spacious room I’m once again rooted to the floor in shock. The center of the room is dominated by a canopy bed draped with sheer white fabric dotted with tiny embroidered flowers. There are enough pillows on the bed to suffocate someone, all in different shades of orange: tangerine, apricot, peach. Each bedside table sports a lamp in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. A fluffy light-blue throw rug stretches across the floor. A pod chair with auburn cushions hangs in the corner. All of it is familiar. Too familiar. The furniture and décor bears a marked resemblance to my bedroom back home in Texas. There’s no way the similarities are random. None. “Holy time warp.”
Oops. That was supposed to stay in my head.
Lucas places the box down on the desk in front of two large windows, then turns and crosses his arms, his legs spread as he straightens to his full height. He lifts his chin and looks down at me. “There a problem?”
“No. It, uh, seems awful familiar, though.”
He kicks at the fluffy blue throw rug. “I was trying to make you feel at home. Never met anyone so excited to get furniture for her fifteenth birthday before.”
My parents had let me redo my bedroom that year. There’d been no budget. Everything and anything I wanted. My choice of color and paint and furniture. The room had looked like a drunk unicorn had thrown up rainbows on it. Just like this one did now. I’d outgrown it years ago.
But Lucas had remembered. Not just that I’d redone my room, but exactly what it had looked like. That’s . . . unexpectedly sweet. Even if utterly misguided. “This is really kind of you.” I scan the white wooden furniture with carved floral scrolls everywhere and sigh. He still thinks I’m that girl, like time hasn’t passed, that I haven’t grown and changed. “I don’t need to feel like I’m back in Texas to feel like I’m at home. And this had to cost a fortune, Lucas. It’s too much.”
His jaw clenches and he turns away. I’ve hurt his feelings. Not my intention at all.
He walks over and plucks the box from my hand before placing it next to the one on the desk. I nibble my lip. Something is off about all of this. Because while his motives might seem thoughtful and kind, the emotion exuding from him is anything but. Stiff shoulders, thin lips. Eyes that glitter with an angry fire. “I can afford it.”
Ah. Now I get it. My hands settle onto my hips. If Lucas thinks for one second he’s getting away with bottling shit up before we can even sign the papers, he has another thing coming. “Why’d you really spend all this money?”
He pushes the boxes around as if trying to avoid answering. But I bet I already know his reasons. Stupid, stubborn man. I sigh as I study his rigid posture. I have to admit, I’m also to blame. “Lucas, things were said when we broke up that shouldn’t have been.”
He spins around so fast I take a step back. “You think I purchased this crap because your father had to rub in my face how poor my family was? And how I’d never be able to take care of his daughter?”
Yup, that’s exactly what I think. Especially now, when he’s glaring at me like I just punched a baby. But saying as much might make matters worse and being the officiant was on his way, fighting at this exact moment wouldn’t be the greatest idea. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I just mean, I know you said you wanted me to feel at home, but you didn’t have to splurge on me. A bed and dresser from IKEA would’ve been fine.”
At first glance, his face holds no expression, no emotion. But when I look closer, I notice his eyes are dark, smoldering even. His chest rises and falls with each breath, and after a minute, he finally speaks. “How ’bout we get the rest of the boxes?”
“Sure.” Anything to escape the tension in this space. Even huffing and puffing while lugging around boxes sounds better.
We head out of the room. So much for thinking Lucas could leave the past behind us. I thought maybe we could be happy as roommates. Maybe even become friends once again. That we could make this time tolerable at least. But no, his bitterness over our breakup is going to trash any chances of that happening.
I sigh and make my way back down the stairs. If only things had been different, and I’d never gotten sick. Maybe Lucas and I would have stayed together all this time, maybe not. Either way, I doubted he’d have grown to despise me the way he clearly does now.
But life had other ideas. And now I have to figure out how to play with the cards I’ve been dealt. At least I don’t plan on condemning us to this marriage for long. Eventuall
y, we can both go our separate ways and truly put our past to rest for good.
Chapter Three
Lucas
I’m on edge and antsy as I stomp back to my truck, like all of my nerves are misfiring, and I could use a good workout to chill the fuck out. Riley in my house is causing my head to spin, among other things. She always did have that effect on me. Never in a million years would I have expected her to pop back into my life like nothing ever happened. To be my second wife no less. Talk about crap luck. And yeah, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, what her father said that day did stick with me. It was why I’d purchased the real wood furniture instead of the cheaper prefab stuff. I wanted her to see from the get-go I could take care of her just fine.
But it’s more than injured pride or a need to prove myself. I’d loved Riley, and her lack of faith in me back then had cut deep. The way she’d stood up there on the landing above me at their big old house and never said a word as her father had dressed me down and made it all too clear what he thought of me and my family and my prospects still cut me. My heart took a long time to mend. If it ever did.
Along the way, I’d entertained a few elaborate fantasies. Scenarios where I became a wildly successful entrepreneur or movie star, and Riley’s family lost all of their money in a big scandal. In my dreams, she’d come crawling to me, begging me to take her back. I’d look down my nose and tell her, sorry, but she made her choice. Now she had to live with it.
All of my fantasies somehow ended with me flexing my biceps and leaving with the one girl she’d always hated, Bailey Landry, stuck to my side like Krazy Glue.
In my defense, I was still a kid at the time, and teenage boys aren’t really known for having class.
But I’m older now. Married, divorced. I even have a kid. So while I’ve never forgotten how awful Riley and her dad made me feel in the past, that doesn’t give me an excuse to be a full-on dick now. Fate has decided to bring us back together. Seems the least I can do is help her feel at home.
Even if her presence is damned distracting.
Besides, picking her up in that tiny apartment and bringing her to the four-bedroom house I bought with my own hard-earned money is at least a little taste of that fantasy. I cast her another sidelong glance while she’s busy grappling with another box, frowning. I’m still not sure why she left Texas to begin with. And that studio apartment of hers . . . not where I’d expected to find her living. This picture is not adding up. She’s not telling me something.
We trudge our boxes back up the stairs and into the guest room. I place the one I’m carrying on the bed before surveying the space with a critical eye. As I take in the white wooden dresser, bed, and desk, heat creeps up my neck. Fucking hell. Riley has a point. The bedroom is a close match to what I remember of her old house, right down to the layout. I’d even placed the bed on the opposite corner of her desk.
It was a girl’s bedroom. Not a woman’s. I’d meant well, yet managed to screw it up again. Story of my fucking life.
I rub the back of my neck. “Okay, I see it now. We can switch the room around if you’d like. Get different sheets and stuff.”
She leans against the dresser, wrapping her arms around her abdomen, color draining from her face. “It’s fine. I didn’t mean to snap. Just everything took me by surprise.”
She says fine, but her body language doesn’t match the words. Is the room really that upsetting? I scratch the top of my head and think of something to say, something to ease the tension. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the rest of the house, so you can find your way around when I’m at work?”
She nods and hoists herself upright. When we step out of her room I point down the short hallway to our left. “My room is there.”
Then we pad down the hallway back to the stairs until we hit the main floor. Since the entrance of the house opens up to the living room on the right and the dining room on the left, I don’t bother giving a tour, instead leading her into the kitchen. “Pretty standard kitchen. The island just has cabinets.” She doesn’t comment, so I fill the silence. “Stove is here on the right against the wall and the sink and dishwasher are on the left by the window.”
I grimace and shut my mouth. I sound like an idiot pointing out appliances she can see for herself. Must be nerves. Despite our rocky start, I want Riley to like my house.
Still. I’m probably better off sticking to single word responses, like earlier.
Luckily, Riley doesn’t notice. She’s too busy admiring my favorite kitchen feature. “I love the table in the alcove. The bay windows makes it so appealing.”
I chuckle, recalling the struggles of trying to get Mason to eat when he was younger. “Except for when you have a toddler who’s too distracted watching the birds and squirrels in the trees outside to finish his food.” I turn to leave the same way we came in. “Come on, let’s head to the den.”
We walk down the short flight of stairs to the lower level. I point out the other guest bedroom, the bathroom, and the laundry room. The entire time, I find myself sneaking peeks at her face to gauge her reactions. She’s so damn beautiful. More angular than she was in high school, and not nearly as tanned, but with the same wavy blond hair, cerulean-blue eyes, and toned calves, which are bare beneath the loose, flowered dress she wears.
With effort, I tear my attention away from her legs as we enter the open area that became the den. “This is where we spend time watching TV or hanging out. Lisa wanted to have a place to entertain, which is why the living room upstairs has no TV.”
Riley quirks a brow. “You mean she wanted one place for those who want to watch sports to disappear to without distracting those who would rather sit and talk.”
A smile pulls at the corner of my mouth. “Something like that.”
Riley walks around the room and stops in front of shelves surrounding the flat-screen TV to snag a framed photo. “Is this your ex-wife?”
Shit.
I walk over and look at the picture. It’s one of Lisa, Mason, and me at the zoo from three years ago. We were happy then. Everything was great. We’d even been talking about having another child. How fast things change. “Yes, that’s Mason’s mom.”
She returns the photo to the shelf. “She’s pretty.”
I nod. Lisa’s a looker. Long, dark hair, tall and thin. But that’s not why the picture’s there. “She’s my son’s mom. I want him to feel at home here.”
Riley steps back and toys with a loose strand of hair. Her gaze strays over to the photo again before darting away. “Can I ask what happened between you two? Why you got divorced? Was it . . . amicable?”
I take a slow, deep breath to stem the rush of defensiveness. I couldn’t expect Riley to understand. She’d never been married before, or had kids. “Lisa and I didn’t separate in some nasty way. She’s a good woman; things just didn’t go as planned.”
I’m not sure what else to say about it. Lisa left because she claims the passion between us fizzled out, but who knows? Maybe there was some larger issue she didn’t want to share. After all, Riley ditched me without so much as a goodbye the first time, so clearly I was doing something wrong.
Riley gazes up at me with those clear blue eyes. Doesn’t say a word, but even after all these years apart, I can still read her curiosity in the cute way she tilts her head. At first I bristle, then realize, why not? Maybe an explanation would help prevent a third relationship fail. “My job interfered with a lot. It takes me away from home too often, like across-the-ocean-distance away. Even when I’m here, my schedule is unpredictable. All that time apart makes it hard to maintain a relationship. I missed the birth of my son, holidays, lots of other important events. Eventually it drove a wedge between us, and we went from being lovers to friends. The passion was gone.”
Even though I’d felt the distance between us, too, I’d been willing to fight to get us back on track. Lisa hadn’t. She’d been done. Ready to move on and find someone else.
My lips twist at the memo
ry. The failure of my marriage still hurts.
Riley steps closer and curls her fingers around my upper arm. Her touch is soft, warm. Electric. My skin tingles in response. “I’m sorry. I bet that was hard on you and your son.”
I edge away from her grasp, annoyed by my body’s betrayal. I don’t have to be a dick, but also, only a glutton for punishment would invite the first woman to ever break his heart back in for a second chance without showing some caution. “Sure can say that again. That’s why I joined the program, and why I agreed to the match even when I saw your name on the paper. I don’t want to bring a parade of women through my kid’s life. I need a partner who can deal with this life and be there for me and for Mason.” When my eyes start to burn, I tilt my head and stare up at the ceiling, hoping to chase away the tears that are forming. “The kid’s had a tough time with the move and hasn’t been adjusting well. It’s not what I want for him.”
Once I regain my composure, I look back down at Riley, to find her smiling at me. “You’re probably a great dad. Your family was amazing, so caring, did a lot for one another. I remember those mandated family dinners every Sunday.”
“Wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. They worked hard and still struggled to make ends meet. You know that.” I shake my head. “It’s why I started working at fourteen, to help out with bills and putting food on the table.”
“Luc, I know. And your loyalty and selflessness to your family is one of the things I admired most about you.”
Not enough to keep you from ditching me to find someone closer to your income bracket.
Although based on that crappy apartment she was living in, that didn’t exactly work out so great for her. A bitter taste floods my mouth. I swallow and shove the memory aside.
As for my parents, maybe I should keep my current relationship status quiet. Who knows how this will turn out and my father sure as hell will read me the riot act. Whenever my parents visit, he constantly makes offhanded comments about how some of the more expensive things in my house were purchased for no other reason than because of the Thompsons. At least he’s smart enough never to have mumbled his feelings in front of Lisa. But if he found out I was back with Riley…yeah, not ready for that.
Assigned (Navy Seals of Little Creek Book 3) Page 3