LuLLaY

by Freya Barker

  "Actually no. She slid down the embankment at the highway exit coming this way. Her car is stuck at the bottom. Luckily I wasn't far behind, but she's shaken up and really tired, and so is the little one. Is there anything you can do for us?"

  I'm not about to protest the assumption I'm his wife, or the blatant use of my accident, I just hope it gets us a room. My body suddenly feels like I got hit by a Mack truck. Flynn slides sideways in her seat, her head coming to rest on my leg and her eyes drooping.

  "Oh dear. Would you like me to see if I can get someone to tow it over here for you?"

  "Well, she did try calling Triple A, but the lines were busy. If you could give it a try, that would be awesome. The vehicle is a red Toyota Highlander, and the license plate is...Honey?" he turns to me with his eyebrows raised. "What's your license plate again?"

  "They probably won't be able to do much until the snow lets up, but I'll see if I can get through.”

  "We appreciate it."

  "As for a room: I gave out the last available suite over the phone just before you called earlier, but the guests haven't shown up yet. I guess I could try and call them to see if they're still coming." When she checks her computer screen and picks up the phone, Matt leaves her to it and joins us on the couch.

  "She's falling asleep," he observes, looking at my daughter.

  "She's had a little too much excitement today."

  His kind brown eyes find mine and he throws me a lopsided smile. "She's not the only one. Hope you don't mind me laying it on a little thick."

  "Not if it gets us a bed for the night. Oh, by the way," I add, digging through my purse. "Here is my Triple A membership, she'll need the number if she's calling. And for the record, I am tired. Exhausted, in fact, and I'm looking forward to that warm bath." I grin back, trying to make light of the situation.

  "Sir?" Almost reluctantly, Matt turns to look at the hotel clerk. "Looks like you're in luck," she says with a smile. "The other guests never made it out of South Bend."

  "Awesome." He slaps his hands on his knees before getting up and walking over to the desk.

  "If you'll just fill this out?"

  A few minutes later he opens the door to the main floor suite we scored. We walk into a small sitting area with a kitchenette just beyond. Across from it is the bathroom, and past that the open door to a bedroom, with two queen-sized beds. Matt walks straight to the closest bed, flips the bedspread back and carefully lays Flynn down on top of the covers. Suddenly I feel a little awkward, sharing a room with this man. Not worried—I trust him, he's been nothing but considerate and helpful—but a bit uncomfortable.

  "Why don't you get her tucked in and get a bath going? I'm just going to run out and grab our things from the car."

  Without waiting for an answer, he heads out the door, pulling it shut behind him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Matt

  I purposely take my time grabbing our things after noticing she was a bit uncomfortable.

  Stopping at the front desk, I try to score us something to drink. I sure as hell could use one. I was barely able to breathe when I recognized Tana's car at the bottom of that embankment. The thought of that little girl, or her mother, hurt was enough to have me tear down that slope.

  Weighed down with our bags, Syd's cooler, and the two cans of beer I managed to get from the clerk, I head back to the room. When there's no answer to my soft knock, I use my key card to get in.

  I can look right through to the bedroom, where Flynn's little sleeping body makes only a small hump in the first bed. The bathroom door is left open a small crack, and I hear the splash of bathwater. It's impossible not to imagine Tana naked in the next room, which makes me a little restless. I drop our bags on the floor, the cooler on the coffee table, and settle down on the couch with a beer.

  It takes another ten minutes before Tana emerges from the bathroom, her wet hair hanging down her back and her body wrapped in several towels.

  "I need my bag." She shuffles her feet, lingering in the doorway as I point at the bigger one I think is hers. "It's the other one, with the orange zipper."

  Grabbing the right one, I walk up to her. I try hard—and fail miserably—not to stare at the trail of water droplets running down her skin and disappearing in the hint of cleavage visible above the tightly clenched towel. Forcing my eyes up to hers, I can't help but notice her teeth sinking in her lush bottom lip when I approach. Handing over the bag—our fingers brush—and I'm surprised to see the rush of heat I feel to be reflected back in her gaze.

  I'm not sure what it is about this woman that draws me in. Sure, she's fucking gorgeous with those expressive eyes, lush lips, and enticing curves, but I've been around gorgeous women enough in my life to know that there is something more. There's an air of self-assuredness around her. A sense of confidence that comes from knowing exactly where you stand in life. A depth of maturity I find so often lacking in some of the women I encounter and am clearly attracted to. I'm convinced Tana will have no problems telling me exactly what she does and doesn't like.

  Fuck yeah, I'm interested—and so is my less than mature cock.

  Mind over matter, I resolutely turn back to my perch on the couch, taking a good swig of my beer to lubricate my suddenly dry throat. Get a grip, her kid is asleep just a few feet away.

  "Is that one for me?" she asks, more collected now that she's dressed.

  Sort of. The tight yoga pants and fitted shirt leave more to the imagination than those bulky towels did.

  "It is, and if you're hungry, there is food in the cooler. Courtesy of Syd."

  "Did you call her already?" Tana asks, while digging to find herself something to nosh on. She pulls out a baggie of vegetables and some sliced cheese. "This good for you?"

  "Perfect, and no, I forgot. I'll do it right now."

  When I slip my phone from my pocket, Tana makes a move to get back up—presumably to give me some privacy—but I quickly reach out and press a hand to her knee just as Syd answers.

  "Took you long enough. I thought for sure we'd have to chase you down again." I chuckle at Syd's mock scolding.

  "We just found a room. It's mayhem out on the roads."

  "We?" Trust her to get stuck on that little word and I roll my eyes heavenward. "No half measures for you. Clearly. The woman I had on the phone earlier?" Syd barely gives me a chance to respond, and her volume has risen such that the woman sitting next to me can hear her side of the conversation just fine, judging by the tensing of her muscles under my hand.

  "Yes. We're stuck in a snowstorm and since the roads up ahead are closed, just about every bed in a fifty-mile radius was taken. We lucked out."

  "I don't understand—you're traveling together?"

  "No, Tana's car is at the bottom of a ditch. I just happened to pass by and spot it."

  "Jesus! Are they okay?"

  "They're fine, just shaken up. Flynn is already asleep."

  "Is that the name of her daughter? It's pretty."

  "So is she. Spitting image of her mother." Never mind that she's sitting right next to me. There's nothing I'm saying I don't want her to know. Besides, if she is half as observant as I suspect she is, she already knows how I feel. No way my hard-on will let up with her squirming in her seat.

  "You sound smitten." I can hear the smile in her voice.

  "Quite possibly," I admit with a sideways glance at Tana. "I'd better go. We're about to attack your food supply which, can I say, is coming in pretty damn handy right now."

  "Okay. I'll let you go. Are you still planning to make it all the way there tomorrow?"

  "We'll see what the weather does. I'll let you know. Later, Syd."

  "Careful, Matt."

  "We should," Tana says when I put down my phone.

  "Should what?"

  "Check the weather." She points at the flatscreen TV across the room.

  Grabbing the remote from the sideboard it's sitting on, I settle back beside her, pressing the side of my leg again
st hers, as I flick through the channels looking for the latest news.

  It's not great.

  The system currently dumping vast amounts of snow along the southern shores of Lake Michigan seems to have settled in for another day. All traffic seems to have ground to a halt from St. Joseph, Michigan to Evanston, Illinois, just north of Chicago. Road closures everywhere; it looks like we're pretty much stuck where we are.

  "Doesn't look very promising," she says beside me.

  "Nope. I'm guessing we're not going anywhere for at least another day."

  "Shit."

  Although I agree with the general sentiment, I can't say I'm particularly heartbroken over the prospect of spending more time in the company of this woman.

  Before I'm tempted to show her just how not heartbroken I am, I toss back the last of my beer and get to my feet. "I'm gonna grab a quick shower."

  Tana

  I'd called Mom earlier, while I was waiting for the tub to fill, but call her again when I see Matt disappear into the bathroom.

  "Everything okay?"

  "It's fine, Mom. I'm just calling to let you know it looks like we'll be stuck here for another day." I didn't tell my mother I was bunking with a virtual stranger, or that my Toyota is at the bottom of a ditch, getting buried in the snow.

  "I figured. Your father has been watching the weather network. He even downloaded a weather app to his phone, but he doesn't know how to work it." In the background, I can hear my dad voice his protest, and I grin. Dad is a stubborn old coot and would rather jump off a cliff than read instructions or ask for help.

  "I'll have a look when I get home."

  "Please. The man is driving me insane." More mumbling in the background, before Mom asks, "How's my Flynnie doing?"

  "Sleeping like a log. It's been an intense couple of days. Her ears seem better, though, she hasn't complained much today at all."

  "Those antibiotics must be finally kicking in."

  "Probably. Anyway, like I said, I'm not sure when we'll get there, but it won't be tomorrow." Just then I hear the shower shut off and hurry to end the call. "I'm going to hit the sack. I'll keep in touch."

  "All right, love. Talk soon."

  No sooner do I put down my phone, when the bathroom opens and Matt walks out, unashamed, with only a towel clinging to his narrow hips. It appears the tables have turned.

  Long ropes of muscle wrap around his lean length—providing bulk—and the occasional glint of silver in his mat of dark chest hair stands out against his youthful appearance. My mouth waters as I take in as much detail as I'm able to on the short trek to his overnight bag. A quick glance in my direction has the corner of his mouth lift in a faint smirk, but that doesn't stop me from ogling his tight ass when he disappears back into the bathroom.

  Jesus, woman—get a grip.

  I take a sip of my beer and start flipping through channels, just to have something to distract me from the previous minute or two I seem to have on replay in my head. I've barely settled on some televised interview with Henry Cavill—the man who used to be able to take my mind off anything—when I hear the door open again. I mentally apologize to my former Man of Steel when my head automatically turns to watch Matt walking in.

  "Should I see if I can get some more beer?" he asks, gesturing at the can I'm holding in my hand.

  It takes me a minute to peruse the flannel pj pants covered in elves and candy canes before I can formulate a response. "In those?" comes out unchecked.

  "Why not?" he throws back, smiling. He pulls out the fabric on either side of his legs as he looks down. "They're comfy. An early Christmas present from Emmy, Dexter, and Caden—Syd and Gunnar's kids. Figured you wouldn't be comfortable with me sleeping in the buff like I usually do."

  My eyes shoot up from where they'd been glued to the fabric stretching between his hands, nicely framing the very defined outline of an impressive package. I'm stumped for words as his grin makes it clear I am so busted.

  "No beer then?" he continues as if nothing happened.

  "No thanks," I answer primly, pissed off I let him fluster me like that.

  Me: a forty-four-year-old entrepreneur, a capable and independent individual, and for Christ's sake—a mother.

  I determinedly focus on a smiling Henry, but that doesn't stop me from feeling the heat from Matt's body as he sits down beside me.

  "Think maybe you're ready to give me your last name?" he starts, and I try to stay focused on the Dashing Duke, but he's losing the battle when Matt continues, "I think you know just about everything there is to know about me, but I don't have much more than your and your daughter's first names. Heck, we've already seen each other virtually naked and, may I add, enjoyed the hell out of it."

  "Oh for Pete's sake, there's a child in the other room." I suddenly swing around indignantly.

  "Okay. Is that supposed to render me blind? Because it doesn't. My vision is quite clear, and I like what I see. What do you think I was doing in the shower?"

  "Do you not have any filters?" It's more of an admonishment than a question, but Matt doesn't seem fazed in the least. He just shrugs.

  "Not really. I'm a bartender, remember? People expect honesty—I'm like their therapist, or priest. They pay good money to sit at my bar, just to get my unfiltered dose of reality." I can only roll my eyes at that. "Look," he starts, leaning in and tucking a stray hair behind my ear. "I just want a chance to get to know you. All I'm saying is that what I know—and have seen—from you so far, has me intrigued."

  "Romer."

  "Sorry?"

  "My last name is Romer, and for the record, I'm old enough to be your mother."

  Apparently, he finds that very amusing, because he's still snickering when he retorts, "Must've been a supremely early bloomer. If anything, you're only a couple of years older."

  I try to ignore the goosebumps on my skin as he twirls the ends of my hair between his fingers. As always, the best defense is offense. "Hardly. How old are you anyway?"

  "Thirty-seven," he says without even blinking. "Thirty-eight, come January fourteenth. There, now you even know my birthday. I'm an open book."

  Admittedly, a seven-year age difference isn't quite as bad as the ten or twelve-year gap I suspected, but it's still substantial. "I'm seven years older."

  "Perfect," he claims. I roll my eyes, which he doesn't miss. "I'll show you."

  I don't have a chance to argue, or to protest, because one minute he's playing with my hair, and the next, that same hand is hooked around the back of my neck and his mouth is engaging a full-on assault on mine.

  Holy Jehoshaphat!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Matt

  "Where's Man?"

  "Shhh. His name is Matt, and he's sleeping, so we have to be quiet."

  "Sweeping?"

  "Yes, baby. Now hush."

  I crack an eyelid, when I hear the click of the bathroom door, and stretch my arms over my head. This couch is anything but comfortable, but I wouldn't have been able to sleep at all if I'd taken the second bed last night.

  That kiss.

  I didn't exactly plan for that, it was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing. One minute Tana was trying to throw up age difference as a roadblock, and the next I was trying to prove her wrong with my mouth on hers. Christ. The silky heat of her tongue curling around mine made it hard to remember where I was. If not for Flynn crying out from the other room—which served as a bucket of cold water—I might not have been able to stop myself from exploring the rest of her body.

  When Tana rushed off to see to her daughter and never came back out of the bedroom, I decided to make the couch my bed for the night.

  Thought didn't play into it last night, but this morning my mind is churning, and I have to admit; that kiss may not have been the brightest idea. Like me, Tana got swept up in the moment, but she is a parent first. A quick fuck on the couch with a guy she barely knows is not something she'd feel good about after. Especially not with her child sleeping in the n
ext room.

  Besides, as much as my body is totally on board with some fast action, it's not what I'm looking for. I've had my share of dark and dirty one-night stands with mostly anonymous women, whose faces all blend together. Not something I'm particularly proud of, but it worked for me at the time.

  It hasn't for a while now, though.

  I'm not sure what it is I'm looking for with Tana. Fuck, other than her last name, I still don't know much about her. Something I'm hoping we'll have time to change today.

  Putting my feet on the floor, I get up and pad over to the window, peeling back the curtain. I can barely see the cars in the parking lot. The snow doesn't look like it's let up at all.

  "He's not sweeping!" I swing around at the bright chirp of Flynn's voice as she skips over to me. Tana lingers in the bathroom door.

  The little girl wraps herself around my leg and looks up with a wide smile on her face.

  "Morning, sunshine." I reach down to pick her up, settle her on my hip, and smile back.

  "I's hungry. You have Cheerios?" Looking into that face, full of hopeful expectation, I wish I had a truckload of Cheerios. "Mommy's all gone." She sticks out her bottom lip for emphasis. Fucking adorable.

  "It's okay, Flynn," Tana says, pushing away from the doorpost she's been leaning against. "Grandma has a whole box waiting for you. In the meantime, I'll try to round up some toast for you for breakfast, but first, you need a bath."

  She plucks the squirming little monkey from my arms, noticeably avoiding any eye contact with me. That won't fly with me. I put my hand on her arm as she starts turning away, and with a finger under her chin, I force her to look me in the eye. "Good morning, Tana," I say as a challenge.

  "Morning," she mumbles.

  "Not good?"

  Her eyes shoot sparks. "Not without a gallon of coffee, it's not."

  I grin at her testiness. Tana is clearly not a morning person either. I can imagine ways to fix that, but for now, coffee will have to do.