by Madison, Mia
Once the meal was ready, we dove in, laughing whenever someone’s taco shell broke. A few times, my eyes met Luke’s and he smiled at me. I had to remind myself of his earlier words—that this was just a business arrangement. He’d been right, I reluctantly concluded. It would be all too easy to start feeling like this was something more. Like we were a family. If it felt that way on Day One, imagine what it would feel like after a week.
Still, it was fun, even the clean-up, and before I knew it, I’d completed five hours of the most interesting job I’d ever had.
Day Two was more of the same—Luke had retreated upstairs to write in his study, and his kitchen had been too long neglected to be whipped into shape in just one day. This time, though, the twins were only willing to help for a little while before they begged me to take them outside. With Luke’s permission, we went to the park although we stayed far away from the lake.
Now that I knew more about Ava and Brandon’s living situation, I was surprised that they spent so much time here. They had a marvelous play area in their own backyard. There was a playhouse that looked like a wooden fort plus a tire swing hanging from a large tree branch. There was a sandbox as well although that might have held their interest more when they were younger.
It wasn’t until the third day that I got the chance to help with the writing side of things. Luke set me up with a laptop at the dining room table and gave me a stack of history texts to skim through as well as a list of online sites. My task was to seek out passages that covered pioneers’ food preparation practices and to make notes of what I found and where I found it.
Oddly enough, the research was interesting, and even kind of exciting. I was helping an author with facts that might appear in his next story. I was so absorbed in research mode that I was surprised when Ava and Brandon came bounding in a little after three-thirty.
Luke emerged from his study to join the kids at the table for a snack. That was his standard habit, but he usually went back to his study to write afterwards. To my surprise, he said he’d be joining us this afternoon.
“Doing what?” Ava asked eagerly upon hearing this.
“A field trip. Go change into play clothes,” he said to Ava who was wearing a pale blue dress. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”
I was as eager as the kids to know where we were going, but I felt I should remain professional—or to try, at any rate.
Once we were in the car, however, a slightly unsettling feeling returned. Luke drove, I sat in the passenger seat, and the twins were in the back. We felt like a unit. Like a family. I knew we weren’t, but to anyone who saw us drive by, that’s what we looked like.
To my shock, Luke turned down my street and then pulled into my driveway. “What’s going on?”
He grinned at me, the kind of smile that made my thighs clench. “You’ll see.”
“Is this where you live?” Brandon said, climbing out of the car.
“Can we see your room?” Ava asked.
Luke opened the trunk and pulled out a massive black tool box. Setting it down, he lifted something large and wooden out of the trunk. It looked a bit like a picket fence.
“What’s that?” I asked at the same time Brandon did.
“A banister. I saw how hard it was for your roommate to get up the steps with her cast. It’ll just take me a few minutes to attach this. Why don’t you give the kids a tour while I’m working on it?”
For a long moment, all I could do was stare at him. He barely even knew me or my roommates, yet he’d done all this? I blinked back moisture from my eyes as he easily lined up the wooden railing along one side of the steps. It looked as if it fit perfectly. How had he known?
At a loss for words, I mumbled my thanks and ushered the twins through the front door. Once inside, they seemed to go in so many directions at once it felt like there were a dozen kids present.
“Wow, this place is way old,” Brandon said.
“Your kitchen is much nicer than ours,” Ava said, hovering in the archway beyond the living room.
“Is this your bedroom?” Brandon said, apparently unafraid to open closed doors.
“That’s Sierra’s room,” I said, answering that last one. “She also has a room upstairs, but since she broke her ankle, she’s been staying down here.”
I peeked inside as I steered Brandon away. Sierra’s bed was made and the room was fairly orderly, but I didn’t know what the twins might find if they went poking around. It was more than obvious to everyone in this house that Sierra and Ian had an adventurous sex life.
“Can we go upstairs?” Ava wanted to know.
I showed them around, giving them a quick tour. I couldn’t help pointing out the house’s flaws as we went through it even though I loved this house. It had belonged to Kait’s parents when she was a kid. Now it belonged to her and her brother. It had improved a great deal recently—the roof no longer leaked and the A/C worked—but it still needed a lot of work. “We’re going to paint the walls in here as soon as we get rid of this wallpaper.”
“Hey look, it’s already peeling off.” Brandon grabbed a loose piece and gave a big tear. A strip of brittle paper eighteen inches long came off in his hand. “Oops—sorry.”
“It’s okay, that’s on the list of things to fix someday,” I said, repressing a sigh. It was a long list.
Back in the kitchen, I slipped the twins a cookie each and then followed the sound of hammering to the front porch. Luke was crouched down, nailing the base of the railing into place.
It fit perfectly, which still amazed me. He’d only been here once and he hadn’t even measured anything.
“That looks really good, Dad.” Brandon took hold of the railing with both hands and tried to shake it.
I winced, but it held. If it was that strong before Luke was even done securing it, then it would be more than strong enough to help Sierra. My words of thanks weren’t enough, so I hoped my face reflected my gratitude.
Truthfully, I was a bit overwhelmed. Except for my roommates, I couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something this nice for me—especially out of the blue like that. I hadn’t asked Luke to do this, he’d just seen a need and stepped in.
A thought rose unbidden to my mind. Tyler had helped fix the leaks in our roof long before he’d become Kait’s boyfriend. And Ian had surprisingly had the skills of an A/C pro.
Now Luke was here, making things safer for us. Better for us. The thought had me blinking back tears again at various times throughout the rest of the evening. Sierra was thrilled with the new banister, and both she and Kait asked me to thank Luke for them.
On Thursday, it was back to researching pioneer cooking techniques for me while Luke wrote in his study upstairs. But on Friday, he greeted me at the door and said he needed my help upstairs.
Gamely, I set down my bag and followed him up the stairs, trying not to notice how hot his ass looked in his jeans.
On the second floor, a hallway led to two small rooms for the kids, a bathroom, Luke’s study, and the master bedroom. At the end of the hall, Luke hesitated, standing between the doors to his bedroom and his study.
“What’s up, boss?”
His full lips had settled into a frown, and he looked at me with concern. “This is going to sound a little strange.”
“I live for strange,” I said, smiling up at him. He was rather cute when he was looking perplexed. Actually, he was cute all the time. If he weren’t my boss, I’d probably substitute the words hot, handsome, and soooo fine instead of cute.
“Sometimes after I finish a chapter, it helps to have someone read the words back to me. Then I can listen and see if there’s anything I need to change.”
“That doesn’t sound strange to me—I’d be happy to. It’s exciting to read a book before it’s published.” I smiled, but then I thought of something. “But can’t the computer read it back to you?”
“It can,” he said. “But the voice is rather, well, robotic. And lacking inflection
. When a person reads my work aloud, if they stumble over a word or have to reread part of a sentence, it’s usually a sign that the writing is awkward. Then I can have them—I mean you—circle it so I can fix it later.”
Now it was my turn to frown. “Uh-oh. I wouldn’t want you to think that there’s a problem with your writing when it’s really just a problem with my reading.”
“It won’t be.”
“It might,” I countered.
He winked. “So what if it is? You fished my son out of a lake. It’s not like I’m going to dock your pay over a few wrong words.”
All right then. We were agreed that I’d read his chapter to him while he listened. So why wasn’t he moving into his study? I could see his computer and his desk chair from here.
Luke followed my gaze and sighed. “This is the point where it might seem a little strange…”
8
Luke
“Stop. Please read that paragraph again.”
Gabi did, her rich voice making music of my words.
“Circle that last sentence, it needs work.”
I opened my eyes at the sound of her pen scratching against the paper. In order to truly focus on my writing, I needed to be in a relaxed, comfortable state. That meant lying down with my eyes closed… on my bed.
Gabi had seemed a bit shocked when I asked her to join me in my bedroom, but now she seemed to have accepted my process. She was sitting on an armchair a few feet away. Curiously, she looked over at me. “What was wrong with that sentence?”
“It just didn’t flow well. Did you notice how you tripped over the words at the start of it? As I told you before, that means it wasn’t written well.”
She gave an impish smile. “And as I told you, maybe it just means that I don’t read very well.”
“That’s definitely not what it means.” Her voice was deeper than I’d realized. Maybe it was her size. She wasn’t all that tall—maybe I’d subconsciously assumed that a shorter woman would have a higher-pitched voice. But once I’d closed my eyes and relaxed, her warm voice had washed over me, nearly hypnotizing me.
I studied her. Though her height made her look a bit girlish, her voluptuous curves marked her as all woman. Part of the reason I’d closed my eyes was to better focus on the words—but also because when they were open, I couldn’t stop staring at her. She shifted in the chair a bit self-consciously, and I looked away, willing myself to be good.
Gabi continued reading, and we covered a few more pages. She seemed to take down my comments well, making notes on the page so I could revise it later on. However, she kept shifting her position in the chair, crossing her legs or shifting her weight. Whether I had my eyes open or closed, it was distracting.
Finally, I rolled over onto my side, staring up at her. “Is this making you uncomfortable?” I’d purposefully chosen a chapter that didn’t have anything sexual in it, but maybe it was just being in the bedroom that made her squirm like this?
“The writing isn’t,” Gabi said with a rueful smile. “But the chair is.”
“Oh,” I said, propping myself up on my elbow and examining the chair in question. It was straight-backed and maroon. Nothing special—unlike the woman on it. Though she was wearing jeans, the faded denim molded to tantalizing thighs and slim calves. Which was not what I was supposed to be noticing right now. “The twins’ mother picked it out.”
“Oh,” Gabi said, looking worried that she’d insulted me. “I mean, it’s not horrible…”
“I mostly just dump clothes on it—I’m not sure I’ve ever sat there for longer than it takes to put on my shoes. Is it really that uncomfortable?”
Gabi looked torn for a moment and then she apparently decided to go with honesty. “Yeah, it is.”
“Then why don’t you join me?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Since there was no taking them back, I patted the bed next to me. It was a king sized with plenty of room for a small woman, even one with such luscious curves.
She looked startled, but then glanced around the room. There wasn’t any other place to sit. She stood and closed the distance between us. “It does look more comfortable than the chair.”
“It is,” I said. “Feel free to stretch out.”
She did just that, settling herself on her side and doubling up one of the pillows under her head. “Much better,” she said, a hint of a moan in her voice that made me inhale sharply. This was just business… it definitely wasn’t the time to think about Gabi moaning. Or things that might make her moan.
She smiled over at me, her dark eyes flashing, and her smile made me pause. When was the last time a woman had smiled at me in bed? Hell, I didn’t even know the last time I’d been with a woman in bed under any circumstances. I hadn’t lived like a monk since my wife left, but romantic encounters had been few and far between. It just wasn’t very easy with two kids, and the last time had been a year or two ago.
She started reading, the pages resting on the bedspread between us, and at first it went well. I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the story, stopping her only when there was a better word choice or something that needed to be changed later.
Her voice flowed over me like warm honey. There was a certain lilt to it that I couldn’t quite identify, and it made me want to hear more of it. But for some reason I wanted to hear her words, not my own coming from her sweet lips. However, that wasn’t the job.
Fortunately, she gave me the perfect opening to find out more about her. “I like that name you used—Tillie. It’s pretty.”’
My eyes reopened to find her dark ones staring at me. “It’s appropriate for the time.”
“And also Celia and Luella. Those names seem so soft and feminine.”
That was interesting. “So is Gabriella.”
A faint flush of red graced her cheeks. “It was my dad’s grandmother’s name back in Italy.”
Right. She’d said before she was half Italian. That explained her dark hair and eyes. Her complexion wasn’t quite the olive skin tone I associated with that region, but just meant that I got to see that tantalizing blush all the more readily.
“I still can’t believe you haven’t made pasta yet for dinner,” I said, teasing her.
She responded in kind. “I like to keep you guessing.”
That line of teasing might lead to a less-than-professional place, so I changed topics. “What’s your favorite thing to make?”
“Anything baked,” she said, and then that blush I loved seeing rose to her cheeks again. “It’s an indulgence. No one needs sweets like that, but I like surprising them with it. It’s my way of brightening their day. It’s my way of showing I care about them.”
The flush on her face deepened as she no doubt realized what I was thinking—that she’d brought me treats several times. Did that mean she cared about me? She obviously cared about Ava and Brandon—of that I had no doubt. But was I included on that list?
As I watched, Gabi turned self-conscious right before my eyes. “Of course, I don’t need any sweets, either.” She ran a hand along her rounded hip. “As you can see, I—”
“Stop.” I reached out and took her hand, grazing my fingers along the tight denim covering her warm skin as I did so. “Don’t speak badly about yourself. You don’t have to be a size four to be beautiful.”
Her mouth dropped open for a moment as I squeezed her hand. “I—I don’t think I was a size four even when I was four.”
“So? You’ve got the kind of curves men dream about, Gabriella.”
Her eyes glazed over at my use of her full first name, but she wasn’t ready to accept what I was telling her. “Not the men I meet.”
“Then I’m glad you met me.” I shouldn’t have said that. I shouldn’t have been doing this even though we were just holding hands. But it seemed the greater tragedy was letting this remarkable young woman underestimate herself.
Her next words took me by surprise.
“What happened to your wife?” Her voice was
soft and hesitant, but after an initial flash of shock, I was pleased she’d asked. It was true that my ex wasn’t my favorite subject, but the fact that Gabi was asking about her made me think this intimate setting wasn’t just affecting me.
“She left,” I said, fighting down the pain those words always brought. “It was just before the twins turned three. She moved to Florida. She’s remarried now.”
Gabi’s face showed shock. “How could she leave you? How could she leave Ava and Brandon like that?” Her voice was full of pain.
“It was my fault,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as possible.
“How? What could you possibly do to make a mother abandon her kids?” Her expression was doubtful, as if it couldn’t possibly be anything I’d done, but she was wrong.
“I wasn’t there for her or the twins. At all, really. I’d just gotten tenure at the university and my stock was rising there. I spent long hours at my office, often coming home after the twins were already asleep. I thought my career was what mattered.” I trailed off, thinking about how utterly clueless I’d been back then. When the babies cried in the night, she’d been the one to go to them. I’d happily gone back to sleep, using the excuse that I needed to be well-rested for my lecture the next morning.
“It kills me to say this, but I wasn’t involved with the twins much at all those first few years. I’d see them when they were clean and happy and adorable for a half hour here or there on the weekends—at least the ones when I wasn’t at the university. But on every other day, it was just her, all day long, with two screaming infants. The twins were born premature. Not by a lot, but early enough to cause a few health issues. I was so stupid. So involved in my career that I didn’t even realize how much work it was. As soon as she left, and it was all on me, I realized how much it involved. How one or both babies needed something every single moment of the day. How the lack of sleep made everything harder. Before that, I had no fucking clue. If I had, maybe she wouldn’t have left.”