by Lacey Black
“Wow, okay,” she replies, closing out the app and slipping her phone back in her pocket.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and chug half of it down, my hip leaning against the counter as I face her. “Sorry I fell asleep earlier. I didn’t mean to leave you on your own.”
Lena smiles. “It’s okay. Obviously, you were a little tired.”
A snort pulls from my throat. “Yeah. I think I got about two hours of sleep total last night. Every time I’d finally drift off, Oliver would wake back up.” I run my hand over my face. “Even with Fish here, it was a rough night.”
Her green eyes are sympathetic, as is her smile. “I have an idea. Since this will be done soon, why don’t you go shower and change your clothes. If Oliver wakes up before you’re done, I’ll get him changed and fed. I think I can handle that,” she says with a nod, though I can still see a little hesitation in her beautiful features.
My feet move in her direction before I even register what’s happening. Reaching up, I brush a strand of dark hair off her forehead. “Thank you, Lena. I mean it. I’d be in a world of hurt right now.”
“I’m sure you’d be just fine,” she reassures me, but I’m already shaking my head.
“No, I’ve never even held a baby before yesterday. This is all new territory for me, Lean. And to be honest, it’s scary as shit.” I run my hands through my hair once more, just to give them something to do besides reach out and touch her.
“We’ll figure it out,” she states, her words a little breathy. I’m standing so fucking close to her, I can smell her shampoo.
As much as I don’t want to, I step back. “I’m gonna take you up on your offer for a shower. I don’t smell so great,” I add, sniffing my armpit in true man-fashion.
She just shakes her head and smiles. “Go. I got this for a few minutes.”
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I take off back upstairs to enjoy my first shower in more than twenty-four hours. I still don’t know how I’m going to do this. Work full time with a new baby, but knowing I’ll have Lena by my side helps alleviate some of the major anxiety.
Six weeks.
She agreed to six weeks, and then, she’ll head back home. Back to Brenton. And I’ll be on my own again with nothing left but her memory.
Maybe I’ll just have to remind her of how amazing we were together. How right the world was. Maybe, just fucking maybe, I’ll convince her to stay.
Chapter Three
Lena
The room has been empty for several minutes, but I can’t help but continue to stare at the place Mack stood just a bit ago. My mind is still spinning, reeling from when he invaded my personal space and touched my hair. I practically felt that graze of his skin against mine in my most intimate places, and I can’t let that happen.
I can’t fall for Mack Cruz again.
Truth be told, it would be easy, diving headfirst into us again, but I can’t. No, I won’t. Getting over Mack was the most painful experience of my life, rivaled only by losing my mother as a very young girl. But it happened so long ago, and memories fade over time. Losing Mack feels like it happened just yesterday, and even though the pain is more of a dull ache, it’s still there, just below the surface.
That’s why I won’t fall for him a second time. The truth of the matter is he’ll stay here. This is his life. Traveling for an IndyCar race, for a meeting, for a promotional something or other. I’ve seen it happen. I’ve lived it. And nothing has changed. I still feel the same way today as I did that day he asked me to go with him.
This isn’t the life I want.
End of story.
I busy myself at the stove, stirring the beef and noodles and opening up a can of refrigerated rolls I found. They’re probably not the most healthy, but when you’re in a pinch, they’ll do. The oven is fancy and takes me a few tries to finally get it preheating to the proper temperature. While I wait, I decide to call my dad and let him know what’s going on. While I told him I landed, we haven’t actually spoken about the situation.
He picks up on the second ring as I wander toward the dining room windows that overlook the garage. I smile as his familiar voice booms through the phone line.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Dad. How are you?”
“Fine, sweetheart, but tell me about you. What’s going on there? I’ll admit, I’ve been worried. Is Mack okay?”
I sigh and lean against the wall. “Yeah, he’s okay, but you’re not going to believe this, Dad.” I proceed to tell him all about Oliver and how Mack came to find out about his son. My dad listens as I fill him in, not interrupting me once, even when I get to the part about him asking me to stay and help.
When I finally stop talking, he asks, “So six weeks, huh?”
I start to pace again. “I know I’m supposed to be there to take photos and keep up with the website, but—”
“Lena, listen to me. Don’t you worry about me or this ol’ place. We’ll be just fine, okay? What I’m worried about is you,” he says, making me stop in my tracks.
“Me?”
“Yes, you, sweetheart,” he replies with a chuckle. “Lena, I wasn’t blind nor stupid three years ago. I know he asked you to go and what your answer was. You put on a brave smile and said all the right things, but inside you were miserable when he left. And sad, and as your father, there’s one thing I hate most in this world, and that’s my daughter’s sadness. So, yes, I’m worried about you. I don’t want to see you hurting again when your time there ends.”
I exhale, my back sagging against the wall. “I know, Dad, but I don’t know what else to do. He needs my help, and…well, I couldn’t just walk away.”
Dad sighs. “I understand, sweetheart. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” I tell him with a grateful grin. “I promise.” My dad is the best.
“So tell me about the kid. What’s his name again?”
“Oliver, and he’s the sweetest little thing, all wrinkly and tiny. He’s only three weeks old.”
“Well, maybe I’ll get to meet him someday,” Dad says. “Mack Cruz a dad. Never thought I’d see it,” he adds with a chuckle.
He’s not the only one. Mack wasn’t sure he’d ever want to be a father, not after his upbringing. His mom left when he was little, and his dad was an alcoholic. He was always losing his job, and there was never anything to eat in the house. Mack once told me when he was twelve, he helped stock at the small grocery store in the town square. The man who owned the business knew of Mack’s situation, and after catching him stealing a package of lunch meat and some bread, he agreed to let the young boy work in the back room for cash. Mack was able to use the money to buy food so he didn’t starve to death while his dad used all the money for cheap vodka.
But the truth is, Mack is a good dad. I can see it, even in the limited time I’ve witnessed them interact. He knows what it’s like to struggle, so he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure Oliver has a better life than he had.
A loud wail drifts down the stairs, and I’m immediately on alert. “Dad, I need to go. Oliver is awake, and Mack went up to shower.”
“Well, don’t keep the boy waiting. I expect a few photos later, maybe?”
“Done,” I tell him with a smile. “Love you, Dad.”
“Love you more, sweetheart. Tell Mack I said hello.”
“Will do. Bye.” The moment he bids farewell, I end the call and slip my phone in my back pocket. I’m already moving to the stairs and heading back to Mack’s bedroom.
When he didn’t come back down earlier, I quietly slipped upstairs to look for them. I found Mack passed out on top of his duvet, with Oliver sawing logs in the bassinet beside the king-sized bed. I didn’t enter the room but was able to take a few minutes to glance around and see how Mack has been living for the last few years. Obviously well, considering he owns a decent-sized home with a massive garage and expansive yard near Burbank.
Now, I’m actually stepping inside
the room. Oliver is clearly awake and not the least bit happy, his tiny arms flailing around as his lungs exercise a healthy cry. Just as I bend down and scoop him into my arms, a door within the bedroom flies open, and a very wet, very naked—well, wrapped in a towel—Mack emerges in a flurry of steam and worry.
My eyes are so wide they hurt as I gape back at a very cut, extremely toned Mack Cruz standing across the room, a blue towel wrapped around his waist. His chest is all tanned, smooth skin, and I’m pretty sure I could count more than six abs if I were to stop and try. But what holds my attention now is the way that towel hangs low on his hips, giving me a perfect view of the V that disappears behind the terry cloth.
“Lena?”
My name startles me into looking up, my eyes connecting with his dark ones. “What?”
Mack is grinning from ear to ear, his hands now resting on his hips. “I asked if everything was okay.”
“Oh! Yeah! Right as rain,” I rush out, cradling Oliver to my chest. “I just heard him crying. I’ll just…” I point a finger toward the door, “…run down and feed him while you…” and wave my hand in front of me where Mack stands, “…finish your shower.”
Why am I breathing so hard?
He flashes me a quick smile. “Okay. Well, I’ll finish up in the bathroom and be down in a few minutes.”
“Yep! Great. Sounds perfect,” I blurt out, as I practically rush from the bedroom and down the stairs.
By the time I reach the main floor, I realize I didn’t change Oliver’s diaper. I read online to change the baby’s diaper before you feed them, as it often helps them fall back asleep easier with a clean diaper and a full belly. Glancing around, and resolved to heading back upstairs, I spy a diaper bag over along the wall. Inside, I find a few tiny diapers, a travel packet of wipes, and a pad used to protect the surface.
I spread out my loot on the floor, carefully setting Oliver down between my outstretched legs. “Now, listen here, Oliver. I’ve only done this like twice in my entire life, so if you could, you know, not pee on me or sprinkle the walls, that’d be great. And as soon as I’m done, we’ll get you some steak and eggs. Deal?”
The little boy’s dark eyes are open, and I’m not sure if he can see me or not, but I can sense we have an understanding. He still fusses, but stops the hard crying, and for that, I’m grateful. I do everything they did in the online video—yes, I watched instructional clips of all the important things likes diaper changes, baths, and feedings—and before I know it, I have a fresh, clean diaper on Oliver’s bottom.
“I did it!” I cheer happily. Oliver gazes up and I think he even smiles, but it’s so short lived, I could have imagined it. He starts pumping his fists, another angry cry ready to fly. “Okay, okay. We can celebrate my victory later. Let’s get you an omelet.” With the baby back in my arms, I head to the kitchen to fix a quick bottle. It goes decisively quicker than earlier, and before I know it, I’m sitting in Mack’s rocker recliner, getting ready to feed a baby for the very first time.
I place the bottle against his lips, just like I saw Mack do earlier, just like I watched in the video, Oliver’s head cradled in the crook of my arm and slightly elevated. “I can do this,” I whisper as he latches on and goes to town sucking. “Slow down, little man, or you’ll give yourself painful gas.”
I find myself smiling down at him as he settles into his feeding. Once he realizes I’m not going to steal away his bacon, his suckling slows to a steady pace. His eyes remain locked on me though, like he’s keeping a close watch on me, just to be sure. How is it possible this little guy has already wormed his way into my heart?
I hear the stairs squeak and glance up to find Mack at the bottom step. He’s watching me, the softest grin playing on his own lips. “He doesn’t mess around when it comes to food,” he says.
“I’ve noticed. He’s watching me like a hawk,” I reply, gazing down at the sweet little boy.
Mack watches us for a few minutes before slipping into the kitchen. I see him stir the pot on the stove and place the rolls in the preheated oven. He pulls two bowls and two glasses out of the cabinet, filling each glass with lemonade. I notice the bottle is already about halfway empty, so I move Oliver to my shoulder, just the way Mack did. He squawks, but settles in for the burp. When I get a small one out of him, I return the bottle to his mouth to continue the meal.
By the time the biscuits are cooked, the bottle is finished, and Oliver is passed out against my chest. Mack rushes upstairs, taking them two at a time, and comes back down with the bassinet. He places it along the far wall, away from the windows, and I take that as my cue to move him. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind holding him for a little longer, but I can see Mack at the stove dishing up dinner, and my stomach is growling, considering I haven’t eaten much today. Nerves and the unknown, plus travel, doesn’t exactly make it an easy day on the belly.
Before I’m able to join him in the kitchen, Mack brings food to the living room. He sets a bowl and glass of lemonade down beside the chair, and when he returns with the second, he places it on the coffee table. “Go ahead and eat,” he says, indicating the food he set beside the rocker recliner.
We’re both silent as we dive in. There are a few things that cross my mind, but I’m not really sure how to ask them. I mean, isn’t it a little awkward to ask your ex about his love life? Not that I want the details or anything—hell no—but if I’m going to be here with him for the next several weeks, shouldn’t I know what to expect?
God, this is going to be uncomfortable…
“So, I have a question,” I start, keeping my eyes on the contents of my bowl.
“Shoot.”
“Well, I’ve gathered you’re probably not married, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked for my help with Oliver. I guess I’m wondering, and not because I’m just curious, I mean, it’s more of I’m going to be staying here and wanting to know what to expect…”
Deep breath. Yeah, this is hard.
“What do you want to know, Lean?”
My eyes automatically seek him out as he uses the old nickname. “I guess I’m just wanting to know if there’ll be a girlfriend who’s also here with us? Or girlfriends, I guess.” Then another thought hits me. “Hell, maybe just friends with bennies, since, well…”
“Stop.”
“I don’t want details,” I spit out quickly. God, this is not going well.
“Lena.” His voice breaks through the noise in my head. When he’s sure he has my attention, he continues, “No girlfriend. Not one, not four. No one will be coming in and out of this house but us. Oh, and probably Fish because that fucker doesn’t understand boundaries. I appreciate what you’re asking, and why.”
“It’s not because I’m jealous,” I state, wishing I could recall the words I just spit out. They only make me sound desperate and, well, jealous.
The corner of his mouth tilts upward. “I know. I get it. But I can assure you, I’m not interested in entertaining right now. I have a lot to focus on with racing and now, Oliver.”
I nod my head, afraid to open my mouth again for fear more word-vomit will be spilling from my lips. But Mack doesn’t seem too fazed by my question, which does make me feel a little better. I’m not stupid enough to believe Mack has been a monk since we split. Hell, the baby sleeping across the room is proof he’s not. In actuality, I’ve not been one either. Not only have I dated in the last three years, but one was serious.
Very serious.
I clear my throat. “Sorry to ask, but I just thought I should know what to expect, you know?”
“Totally get it. Except Fish and sometimes Ben, my crew chief, I don’t have any visitors. I do have a security system I’ll show you how to use. Both of those guys know the code, but while you’re here, I’ll make sure they don’t just walk in and make themselves at home like usual.”
“I don’t want them to have to change anything just because I’m here,” I argue, not wanting to put him or his team out in any way.
&n
bsp; Mack sits up straighter, pins me with a look and says, “No, I insist. The last thing I want is either of those assholes to see something they shouldn’t.” He glances down, his face tight. “I’d hate to have to kill my best friends.”
I chuckle at his comment, though when his eyes meet mine, there’s not a single hint of humor. Mack isn’t joking. No, he probably wouldn’t actually kill someone, especially his friends, but the meaning there is clear. He doesn’t want them to see something they shouldn’t. Namely, me. I shouldn’t feel all warm and fuzzy from his comment, but I do. I’m no one’s territory, especially Mack’s, but the idea he’d lose his mind if his friends saw me in a state of undress or in a compromising position does something to the gaping hole in my chest. Makes me feel…special.
Treasured.
Pushing those stupid and unnecessary thoughts out of my mind, I focus back on our dinner. We eat in comfortable silence, Mack grabbing a second heaping bowl of beef and noodles over two rolls. When we’re all done, he pushes his empty bowl away and says, “Thank you for this. I don’t eat a lot of comfort foods. Not by choice, but more for a lack of ability.”
Together, we clean up the dinner mess and put the leftovers in the fridge. When the dishwasher is loaded and the counters clean, I toss the dishcloth beside the sink and sigh. Even though it’s still early, I’m tired. Lack of sleep and traveling halfway across the country will do that do a girl.
“Why don’t we discuss my schedule for the next week, and then I’ll show you the guest room?” He runs a nervous hand through his hair. “I probably should have done that earlier, but I fell asleep.”
“It’s okay,” I reassure him, patting his hand. The moment we touch, it’s like a jolt of lightning through my veins. I pull back as if burned, my wide eyes meeting his. The look on his face confirms he felt whatever that was too. Neither of us acknowledge it though, which I’m grateful for. The last thing either of us needs is to complicate this already very complicated situation with any sort of feelings. We need to keep this professional. Employer, employee. Leave the hearts out of this.