The only woman who seemed to spark any interest was unfortunately the same one that I was hiding away in a small cottage, and it was starting to grate on my nerves.
She hadn’t yet told me whom she was running from, not that I’d tried again. The guarded look that fell over her beautiful face whenever she thought no one was looking was enough for me not to push.
I found myself trying to remember the many reasons I shouldn’t want her. There were endless reasons: she was younger than me; I was an asshole; she and Zoey needed a positive male in their lives, and I was far from a good man. They needed someone like Nick freaking Riley. But whenever he stopped by, usually with Sabrina or the kids, I always found myself taking him away to talk or asking her to do things that would mean they wouldn’t be near one another.
I was far from stupid, but when it came to her, I couldn’t help the beast that reared its head: a caveman who didn’t want to share her attention with another male over legal age or without a wedding band on his finger.
What that meant was beyond me.
Anne
I waved goodbye to Sabrina as she drove away from the main house, closing the door behind me. I watched the kids as they headed to the comfortable family room that was filled with oversized and extremely comfortable dark brown couches. I heard the TV being turned on and switched to ESPN, and I smiled, knowing that Chris or Mark, Sabrina’s two older sons from a previous marriage, had put on their beloved sports program.
Walking into the kitchen, I smiled at Penny, Sabrina’s daughter from her previous marriage, and Nikki, Sabrina and Mike’s nine-month-old.
“Penny, would you like a snack?” I offered as I gave Zoey and Nikki some Cheerios in their high chairs.
"No, thank you. Do you need help?" She asked, and now it was my turn to smile at her and Chris, who was walking into the kitchen, placing his backpack on the kitchen table, then giving his baby sister and Zoey a quick cuddle that earned him another smile.
"When I get ready to make dessert, if you still want to help, I would appreciate it."
"Awesome!" She smiled at me, and so did Chris.
"Do you guys have homework?"
"Yeah," they both grumbled. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Get to it then, guys.”
I cooked while the three older kids snacked from a platter of crackers, cheese, and fruit I had set out while they did their homework and the two younger ones babbled and giggled. My mind felt oddly calm. A calm I hadn’t felt in so long. I’d never really known this kind of peace could exist for me after the years I’d lived with him The last two months of my life had almost been like a dream.
Feeling at peace without a whisper of fear or the urge to look over my shoulder had been a bit difficult to get used to.
Not only that, but there was the handsome, brooding lug of a man—or should I call him sex on a stick with a side of immensely broad shoulders—who had been making my imagination work overtime these past few weeks.
Not that John Davenport noticed me—not like that at least. Even if there were times I felt as if he was looking at me with warmth in his gaze, I knew better. It was just my lust-filled, hopelessly romantic soul that wished for it so much; it just felt so real. I knew better, because any time I felt his gaze on my skin, I’d look over at him and realize he was oblivious to me being in his space.
Deep in my thoughts, I served the kids their dinner, setting aside a dish and covering it for Mr. Davenport. The sooner I got used to thinking of him as Mr. Davenport rather than John, the sooner my poor little, diluted, lust-filled brain would stop the senseless daydreaming.
***
Zoey was in her stroller, something that I had bought at a consignment store and had luckily left in my car the night we found ourselves here. We were walking back from having said goodbye to Mike, who had started to load the kids in his top-of-the-line SUV, when I heard Mark’s voice calling me.
Turning around, I watched him jog towards me with a baseball bat in hand. Glancing behind him, I noticed that Mike was still helping Chris and Penny with their school bags, while he held his sweet little girl in his arms.
“Hey, Anne?” His young teen face flooded with seriousness much too intense for someone his age.
“Hey.”
“Umm…” he frowned, and I tilted my head.
“Did you forget something?”
“Umm..." Mark looked towards the guest house. Frowning, his gaze came back to me, and something about the usually confident, sometimes seemingly aloof teen concerned me. I placed my hand on his shoulder and looked at him.
“What's up?”
“Umm…” He took a deep breath and spit out what was on his mind, "I overheard Mike and Mom talking about something. It wasn't on purpose or anything.”
“Okay,”,I sounded out the word slowly.
“They were talking about you and Zoey,” he shared, and I fought the urge to look towards Mike.
“Oh.”
“Mom’s worried about you living in the guest house, all alone. She thinks John’s place is creepy since his is the only house on this hill.”
“Oh,” I once again muttered, not knowing what to say.
“I know you think I'm a little kid…”
“Mark…”
“I was thinking about what mom said and she had a point. There’s some distance between the main house and the guest house. No real lighting in between. At night, it must get really dark.” His observations were spot-on and made me tilt my head and start taking in whatever he needed to say more seriously. “So I thought that even if John has a security system, it might just be on the main house and even if it wasn’t, this wouldn't hurt to have.” He finished talking and handed me the wooden baseball bat he’d been holding.
“Mark…” My voice was soft. It’d been a long time since someone had worried about me, and now there were handfuls. I looked at him, his short, spiky, light-brown hair and almost green hazel eyes. For being a teenager, he was very sweet to think about someone besides himself. Blinking away the wet from my eyes, I tried to talk, but he beat me to it.
“Hold your hands together and swing. Try to go for the middle of an attacker or his head. Swing with your entire body,” he told me. His young face was serious. Even as young as he was, anyone with eyes could see that Mark Miller was going to be a heartbreakingly handsome man in the future.
“Mark, I can't take this. You might need…” I started to say as I tried to return the bat, but he shook his head. With his hand covering mine, he cleared his throat.
“We use metal bats. This is an old one I picked up at a yard sale a while ago. Take it,” he told me, pushing the bat back towards me.
“Mark…”
“Just take it.” His determined gaze made me give in and nod.
“Thank you,” I told him softly, and he surprised me yet again by hugging me. I hugged him back.
“Bye,” he said quickly, then ran back to the waiting SUV. Mike was leaning against it, the other three kids now buckled safely in the car. Mark climbed into the front seat. Mike shut the door, gave me a small wave and a smile, then went to his side of the car.
I watched and waved as they disappeared from my sight into the foliage of the trees and bushes on the hill. I looked at the huge main house and down at my sleeping angel in the stroller, then to the baseball bat in my hand, and took a deep breath. Mark was right. A baseball bat was better than nothing; it sure would have helped the night HE had found me. A cold shiver ran down my spine at the thought of Him finding me, finding us. “I’ll always find you, Annie baby,” His voice played in my head.
That cold shiver at my spine didn’t go away, even when I got to the guest house and hid the baseball bat by the door.
Chapter Seven
John
Tapping on my desk, staring at God only knows what on my desktop, I couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept drifting to the beautiful woman who kept doing little things around my house that made it feel like a home.
Something I rea
lized I’d never really had in my forty-three years of breathing.
Arriving late from work, I was disappointed to know they had left for the night. I had thought about talking Anne into watching TV or a movie with me again, since we were both off the next day. I growled and ran my fingers through my hair. I took a deep breath and could smell the faint scent of the vanilla perfume she wore. As soon as I noted it in the air, it vanished, making me miss it. I wanted it. Needed it.
This shit wasn’t working for me.
Never in my life had I been hung up on a woman. Standing and heading down the stairs, I stared at the front door, tempted to head over to her. Shaking my head at my ridiculousness, I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge to get a bottle of wine. Grabbing a glass, I served myself as I tried to avoid the huge window over the sink that faced right out to the tiny guest house, but I failed like I had every single time I’d tried to avoid it these last two months.
I finished my drink and even though it was dark, I couldn’t see the warmth from the lights turned on inside, which piqued my attention.
Fuck it.
Setting down my glass on the counter, then straightening my wrinkled navy-blue dress shirt, I headed out the house without a second thought. I will just stop to say hi. People did that. I just wanted to check on them, make sure they were alright. Reaching her door, my hand about to knock, panic set in me.
What am I doing?
Making any excuse I could to come see her. It was late. They were probably asleep. Opening my fist, I ran the pads of my fingers over the cool wood of the door. Something I wanted was behind that door and I couldn’t get myself to knock. Nothing had changed. I couldn’t give them more. Could I? Feeling out of control in a way that I wasn’t used to, I made myself put my hand down and take a step back.
Staring at the house in front of me, I asked myself, Why? How can something so small, so modest, contain everything I want? Shit! They were everything I wanted. Was this what Mike had felt like when he’d started his relationship with Sabrina?
Closing my eyes, I saw the past I hid from: mossy green eyes, wispy blond hair, and the brightest smile I had seen staring back at me. I shook my head and opened my eyes. The pain was still there, just no longer as raw. I stumbled three steps back, away from the front door.
I heard movement in the house and looked around me, the darkness suddenly overwhelming me.
“John?” I turned back. Bright, warm light filtered through behind her. In the darkness, I was only able to make out the silhouette of her body. Sunshine! I shook my head and tried to control my stupid thoughts.
“Hey.”
“Is everything alright?” She asked, walking towards me, and I noticed she was wearing an ugly looking cardigan, something an old lady would wear, wrapping it tightly around her body. My eyes roamed lower, and I swallowed hard at the sight of her bare legs. Shit. That was not a sight I needed to have engraved in my mind. Her bare thighs gleamed deliciously in the moonlight.
“Yeah, I just… I…” I stuttered, trying to figure out what excuse I could use, “I wanted to check in, see if everything went okay with Mike’s kids. It wasn’t too much of a bother, was it? Because if it was, I can ask him to…”
“Oh, no. They’re wonderful. Any time the Crown’s need me to watch them, I’m more than happy to,” she said, now standing mere inches from me.
Her hair was in a messy ponytail, with wisps of hair falling over her flawless face. Unable to help myself, I closed the distance, my hand tucking a piece of the dark silk behind her ear, the edges of my fingers grazing against her soft skin. My body was on fire. It yelled at me not to stop, my mind eliciting millions of possible ways to touch her creamy skin.
“Oh,” a tiny gasp. Her lush lips parted and I leaned forward a tiny bit more, putting my face in her space; breathing in her air, her scent, and, God, her smell. She was completely intoxicating. Vanilla and warmth mixed with something else, something I couldn’t place; something I shouldn’t place. Common sense whipped through me and I stepped back, pretending to pull something from her hair.
Anne
“You had a little something…” His deep voice told me and I was mortified!
When he’d closed the space between us, tucking a stray hair behind my ear, I had about melted into a puddle at his feet. When he’d leaned his head in closer, his perfect square jaw beckoning my hands to hold it, to feel the stubble on his face, my eyes had landed on his lips and my body had gone still.
I might have dated one of the most horrible men I could have ever found. A man who I’d once naively pictured as Prince Charming, but had been completely wrong about. Even before then, I hadn’t been an innocent wallflower. I’d been kissed plenty, but I strongly believed men should be the ones to initiate. So my stupid mind beckoned my body to stay still, to hold my breath when John stopped in front of me momentarily. I started to close my eyes when I felt his hand touch my hair. That’s when his words processed through my lust-filled mind and cleared it instantly.
Of course there was something in my hair. It was probably a Cheerio that had been flung by Zoey or Nikki. I didn’t know if I wanted to laugh or cry, so I tried to laugh, but even to my ears I knew it wasn’t convincing.
“Of course,” I smiled as I looked up at him, wondering what he thought of me. He probably thought I was a mess.
“Any plans for tomorrow?” He asked casually. A breeze was picking up.
“Not really,” I answered him, staring at the dark pools of his intense eyes as I shook my head and tried not to react to being around him, reminding myself of my place in his world. “Is there something you need done?”
“Done?” He asked, looking confused, his eyes drifting to my lips and then back to my eyes. Had he been checking me out? I probably had something on my face.
“Did you need me to prepare something for you? You were asking if I had plans.” His eyes went wide, his hand in the air, and a smile spread on his gorgeous face, making him seem less bristly than normal. Which was bad. I clenched my thighs together.
“I was thinking of having a few people over, I was… umm,” his face contorted slightly as if he was looking for the correct word. He seemed nervous. “I was hoping you could help with some things.” Even though I knew it was in my job description, whatever was left of the hope I had deflated.
“Of course. That’s my job,” I responded quickly, wincing at the cold tone in my voice. I straightened my back and stepped back.
“Anything in particular you would like, Mr. Davenport?”
“What?” Confusion once again clouded his eyes, the carefreeness of his expression filtering away.
“For your get-together, Sir. Or would you rather talk about menu ideas in the morning?” I couldn’t help the irritation in my voice. I wasn’t sure if it was at him or at myself.
“Anne… I…” He stood up straighter and took his own step back. “We’ll talk about it over breakfast. We’ll leave at eight.”
“Leave?”
“To breakfast…”
“I don’t think….”
“Never mind, I’ll bring breakfast here. I’ll be here at eight. Is that okay?”
Trying not to wince at the early wake-up call, I nodded my head, slightly confused. He was bringing breakfast? Did he know how to cook?
“Umm…”
“Okay. Well, good night, Anne.”
“Night, Mr…”
“John. It’s John, Anne.” He stepped forward, his hand slightly touching mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze, his dark eyes somehow sparkling. “It’s just John...okay?”
“Umm,” something about the tone of his voice and the sparkle in his eyes made my brain short-circuit and the reaction bewildered me.
“Yes. Right, then,” I murmured, not able to look away from him, and when he smiled sexily at me, my heart literally felt as if it had flipped inside out of itself.
Chapter Eight
John
Beyond perplexed at the mess in front of me
, I ran my fingers through my hair. I needed a haircut. I needed a haircut and breakfast, because there was no way I could take the shit I had cooked up to Anne and Zoey; not that Zoey was actually going to eat what I had made. Rubbing my hands over my face, I sighed at the clock on the stove as it blared the time in red at me.
Picking up the phone, I was surprised that it only took two rings.
“John, you better be having a heart attack,” Mike’s deep voice groggily answered.
“I’m not.”
“Then what do you want?” He growled in a sleep-filled voice.
“I ...I need your help,” I admitted and the phone went silent.
“Mike? Mike, are you there?”
“Yeah...You sure you’re not having a heart attack?”
“Mike.”
“Stroke maybe?” He asked, amusement filling his voice and I rolled my eyes. “Mike…”
“I know, you’re having an aneurysm… because in the lifetime we’ve been friends, you’ve never, not once, literally asked me for help.”
“You fucking done?” I asked and I heard him whispering to Sabrina to go back to sleep. There was shuffling in the background as I listened to him get out of bed and head downstairs to the small office Mike and Sabrina shared in their home.
“Okay, what the fuck is going on that you had to call me at….Jesus Christ, John, it’s not even six in the morning.”
“I need you to invite some people over here for a BBQ.” Again, I was met with silence. Frustration and panic were crashing through me at the sight of the disaster I had made in the kitchen, and Mike was acting like a dick.
“Mike.”
Davenport Harbor (Six Degrees Book 3) Page 5