by Madison, Mia
“Of course. Boys can cook, too.”
“Oh, I know,” Maggie assured me. “It’s just that at the beginning of the school year, he was always volunteering for everything and speaking up in class. But lately he’s seemed a bit quieter.”
“Really?” I thought about that. Had he been doing that at home? Sometimes he’d wander off to do his own thing when we were in the middle of an activity. But was that unusual? At the time, I’d thought he was bored like when I’d read a chapter of a Little House on the Prairie book to the kids the other day. Since their father was writing about that time period, it seemed appropriate. “Sometimes Ava does the talking for both of them. I think of her as the spokesperson. Or spokes-twin, I suppose. But Brandon’s pretty involved when I watch them after school.”
“That’s good to hear. Anyway, I have to go pick the kids up from music. Thank you so much for bringing all this. Will you be able to find your way out?”
“I will,” I said.
“And say ‘hi’ to Mr. Pearson for me,” she said as I headed out.
“I might,” I muttered under my breath. But then I smiled. I didn’t blame her and the PTA moms if they had a crush on Luke. I had since the very first time I’d laid eyes on him.
13
Gabi
“Your cookies sold the best!” Brandon’s praise greeted me before he was even all the way through the front door that afternoon.
“Everything sold out except a few of the lemon bars,” Ava said. “We told Miss Finch she could keep them—I hope that was okay.”
“What are we going to do this afternoon?” Brandon wanted to know.
“Whatever you’d like. Do you want to go to the park?”
Brandon and Ava exchanged a look. Not for the first time, I got the impression that there was some kind of twin telepathy going on. “Actually, we’d like to make some more cookies.”
I laughed, surprised. “We baked all afternoon yesterday.”
“Yeah, but we didn’t get to eat any of those,” Ava said.
“Well, at least not many,” Brandon clarified. “But it’s Friday… if we don’t bake some more today, then we won’t have any all weekend.”
“You guys, it’s not like your father’s going to let you starve to death,” I scoffed. And then all three of us exchanged knowing looks—this time I felt like I was in on the twin telepathy. “Okay, he might, but he wouldn’t mean to.”
They laughed and followed me into the kitchen. For two kids who had spent most of the last few years eating takeout, they’d adjusted well to home-cooked meals, but of course sweets were their favorite.
“Isn’t Dad coming down for our snack time?” Ava asked.
“No, remember he had that big phone call with his editor today? Your dad needs to get some info to him by the end of the day. Do you want a snack?”
“No, let’s just eat the cookies when they’re done,” Ava said.
“Or before,” Brandon said.
“Remember what I told you about the raw eggs in the dough?” I said as I pulled ingredients out of the pantry.
“Oh yeah.”
I found everything I needed, except the bag of flour was almost empty. “I thought we had another bag of flour.”
Ava came over to my side, her little body wedging in front of me. “I don’t see one.”
Frowning, I checked the nearby cabinets in case it had gotten moved.
Brandon had joined the search, peering into the lower cabinets. For good measure, I checked the top of the fridge. “Did your dad rearrange things in here?”
“I don’t know,” Ava said.
“He was doing some stuff in here this morning. While we were eating cereal,” Brandon said, and his twin nodded.
That was odd—both the missing flour and the fact that Luke had voluntarily spent extra time in the kitchen.
“Should I go ask him?” Ava asked.
“No, he’s got stuff to do. How about the basement?” The idea struck from out of nowhere—my mom had always kept extra ingredients on shelves in the basement of my childhood home. I’d never been in the basement here, but I knew the door was back by the laundry room.
“We’re not allowed to go down there,” Brandon said instantly.
“I’m sure it’s okay if you’re with me. We’ll just check really quick.”
“No, we can’t,” Ava said. “It’s locked.”
“It is?” That seemed odd. The twins were eight. Surely third-graders were mature enough to go in their own basement?
Brandon noticed the confusion on my face. “It’s for grown-ups only. That’s what Dad said.”
“Grown-ups only?”
“Yeah,” Ava said. “He says it’s like how we keep all our toys in the big closet that connects our rooms upstairs. That’s our playroom. Dad says the basement is his playroom.”
“He says it’s only for adults,” Brandon added. “But I guess you can ask him if you’re allowed to go down there and check to see if he put the flour there.”
“No…” I said, my voice faint. “That’s okay, we can make something else.”
A playroom for adults.
Oh.
My.
God.
* * *
“What??” Kait said, her voice rising an octave in that one syllable.
“Holy shit,” Sierra said. She’d spent Friday night with Ian, so I hadn’t been able to talk to both my roommates together until Saturday afternoon.
“Are you sure that it’s actually a… a…” Kait trailed off.
“Kinky sex dungeon?” Sierra supplied.
“No!” I tilted my head forward, letting my curls cover my face, hiding my blush. But they were my best friends in the world—they knew all about my tendency to turn red.
More importantly, they knew a lot more about sex than I did. Sierra pretty much always had, but Kait’s experiences were more recent.
“I don’t know,” I said, more calmly, taking a sip from a tall glass. We’d used the last bottle of wine a few evenings ago and were making do with soda. “I suppose it could be a lot of other things, right?”
“Umm… I suppose he could keep guns down there and he doesn’t want the kids to go anywhere near them,” Kait said.
“He doesn’t really seem the type.”
“Doesn’t he write about cowboys, though? They have guns,” Sierra said. Her long legs were propped up on the coffee table, something that normally bothered Kait, but clearly Luke’s possible sex room was the bigger concern at the moment.
“Besides,” Kait said, “he told the kids it was his playroom. I doubt he has a shooting range in the basement. They would’ve heard if he did. What else could it be?”
“He’s a writer,” Sierra mused. “Maybe he rounded up people who left critical reviews on his stories and buried them down there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Come on, be serious. I’ve been freaking out about this all night, but I had to wait to talk to you guys because you were out having kinky sex of your own. This is supposed to be your area of expertise,” I said to Sierra.
“I guess I could ask Ian what he thinks—”
“No!” Oops, I’d shouted again. “Don’t you dare tell him about this. It’s embarrassing enough telling you two.”
“You can tell us anything,” Kait said. “Don’t hesitate to come to us about stuff like this—no matter how embarrassing.”
“It’s going to take a lot to top this one,” Sierra said, and Kait threw a pillow at her. “Okay, okay, let’s think. Has Luke ever given you any indication that he’s into BDSM or that he likes to be dominant in the bedroom?”
“No!” I said automatically. I’d been saying that a lot today, mostly in a high-pitched, semi-hysterical voice. “Definitely not.” I thought about it some more. “Well… maybe.”
“I knew it,” Sierra said. “Tell us everything.”
“Well… he did say once that he likes to call the shots.”
“He’s your boss,” Kait pointed out. “Th
at’s what they do.”
I squirmed in the armchair across from the sofa. “Yeah, but it was during a conversation about how we would handle things after that first kiss.”
“Okay, that’s promising. And in subsequent kisses—or whatever else you’ve been up to—has he taken the lead?” Sierra asked.
“Yeah… but don’t all guys do that? How do you know if it’s because they like to be dominant or if it’s just because they’re men?”
“That’s a good question,” Kait said.
“Tell us exactly what he did,” Sierra said. “Ian’s got a thing he has to go to tonight, so I can only hear about your sexy times instead of having new ones of my own.”
I laughed in spite of myself. “Compared to your sex life, we haven’t done much. But I’ve really enjoyed what we have done.”
“Like?” Sierra prompted.
“Mostly kissing. And one time he picked me up and sat me on the counter and pushed my knees apart so that he could move in between them and press himself against me.” It was embarrassing to admit that, but the memory of how hot that had been made my pulse quicken.
“Nice,” Sierra said.
“But how do we know if that’s him being dominant or just him being a horny guy?” Kait asked Sierra. She was definitely the expert here.
“Who cares if he’s going to pull nice moves like that?”
“But Gabi needs to know. Oh wait… maybe she doesn’t,” Kait said.
“What? Of course I do.” I frowned at her. If I was dating Luke—sort of—then I needed to know what he was into.
“I mean yeah, you need to know, but that’s not the most pressing question here.”
“It isn’t? Then what is?” I was honestly puzzled.
“Ah,” Sierra said, nodding at Kait. “I get it. The real question is whether you’re into it.”
I could feel that the flush that had already claimed my face was spreading rapidly down my neck and chest. “But I don’t even know if that’s what’s in the basement.”
“It certainly sounds like it is,” Sierra said.
“The point is that you need to decide if you’re interested. If you’re not, it’s simple. If he ever chooses to tell you about his playroom, then you can be prepared to tell him you’ll pass.”
Oh. That made sense. “So if I’m not into it, it’s really not a problem. Unless it’s a deal breaker for him.” That thought was a worrying one.
“Do you think you’d like it,” Kait asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried anything like that.”
“Not even a little spanking?” Sierra asked. “That kind of stuff can be fun. Super fun. But only you can decide if you’d be willing to try. If you’re not, the Luke needs to respect that.”
I kept my mouth clamped shut, feeling the blush claim an even greater percentage of my skin.
“If you are interested, then you know what you have to do,” Sierra said.
I nodded automatically and then cocked my head to the side. “Wait, what do I have to do?”
“Ask him to take you down there,” Sierra said.
To my shock, Kait agreed. “When you’re ready, of course. But it’s the only way to find out for sure.”
Seriously? Could I seriously ask him to do that? Did I even want to? “Dammit,” I muttered, trying to gather my thoughts. And then one thing became crystal clear.
“What?” Kait said.
“We picked a hell of a day to run out of wine.”
14
Luke
The knock at the door Monday afternoon made me grin. Normally, I hated any interruption when I was writing, but that didn’t include Gabi. Hiring her had worked out better than I’d ever imagined. She’d been wasted at that temp agency. She was smart, and curious, and had strong research skills. She performed every task I gave her with ease, and each week I was trusting her with more and more things. Not the least of which was my kids.
Ava and Brandon were crazy about her. Sometimes that worried me, because if she left their lives for any reason, it would hurt them terribly. It wouldn’t feel all that great for me, either. I’d grown to care about her a lot in the past month.
My jaw dropped as I opened the door. Standing there on the porch, the sunlight making her hair shine, she looked stunning. Even better than usual. I wondered if she’d had an interview or something this morning. She had on silver hoop earrings and a matching necklace. Her chocolate eyes were rimmed with thick dark lashes. And her lips, normally a soft pink, were brighter than usual.
“Uh, come in,” I said, practically stammering. She looked hot. Really hot. Her shirt was a peach color, and the scooped neckline showed the tops of her breasts. God, it made me want to bury my face in her cleavage. Her plump thighs were bare, covered by a shorter skirt than usual. It was made out of some kind of soft white material and it swirled around her thighs as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Her pink toenails peeked out of sandals with a small heel on them. “You look really nice.” It was an understatement, but it was all I could manage. All the blood in my body was zooming in the opposite direction of my brain.
“Thank you.” Her voice was a bit on the shy side, which wasn’t normal. What the hell was up with her today? But whatever it was, if it made her look like this, then I approved.
Gabi stepped inside and headed to the dining room, proving that the view from behind was just as delectable as from the front. She set a hand on the back of one of the chairs and turned. Hastily, I raised my gaze to meet her eyes. “How was your weekend?”
“Good,” she said, and she asked about mine. I had the feeling that wasn’t what she truly wanted to talk to me about. “And yours?”
“Not bad. I thought Ava might be getting a cold, but she seemed fine this morning.” Shit, that was probably the least charming answer I could’ve given. But Gabi didn’t seem to be paying attention. That in itself was odd—she was crazy about the twins.
“Umm… do you mind if I do the grocery shopping tomorrow? We should be fine for dinner tonight unless you cooked over the weekend.”
“Trust me when I say I really, really didn’t.”
Her eyes met mine and she gave me a faint smile. What was wrong with her today? “So if you’re not going to the store, do you want to dive into some research?” I asked.
“Actually, I was thinking that maybe… I could get to know you a little better today.”
That was the last thing I’d expected her to say, but I was game. I’d already written a chapter and a half today, so I could afford to take a break. “All right. Did you have anything in mind?”
She took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and making the dark tendrils of her hair shift. “I’d like you to show me the basement.”
I cocked my head to the side, staring at her. I wasn’t aware that she was interested in what was down in the basement. But maybe she was more observant than I gave her credit for. I hadn’t been down there in a while, but it was the one place I truly felt like myself. Like a man instead of like a father. Not that I didn’t love being a dad, but sometimes I wanted to pursue my own interests, too. “All right.”
Gabi let out the breath she’d been holding and nodded. I wasn’t sure what had brought on her request, but I was willing if she was.
She followed me, her heels tapping on the wooden floor as we went. On the far side of the laundry room, I reached up to the top of a row of cabinets. After a moment, I located the key I kept up there.
Gabi looked up at me, her eyes wide. “So you do keep it locked.”
Had the twins mentioned something? “It’s not safe for them to go poking around down there.” I unlocked the door and switched on the overhead light. It illuminated the gray wooden stairs under our feet. I was halfway down the steps before I realized Gabi was lagging behind.
I turned to her, enjoying the expanse of smooth, tan thigh that showed under her skirt. Then I spotted her shoes—maybe she was worried about falling? I held a hand u
p to her, but she shook her head. “Please… just let me go at my own pace.”
“Of course,” I said, pulling my hand away. What had that been about? But then I reminded myself that gorgeous women like Gabi probably had to put up with horny men putting their hands on her back or arm all the time. Of course she could walk down a flight of stairs by herself—she was a grown woman.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and flipped on more light. The hard concrete was cold beneath my feet. Gabi was moving toward me at a glacial pace. What the hell?
Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Are you coming? I thought you wanted to see this. I’ve spent years getting everything down here exactly the way I want it. You should’ve seen the lame-ass set-up I had in the beginning.”
Gabi was two steps from the floor, making her a little taller than me. Her eyes were wide as she looked beyond me. She took an absent-minded step forward and would’ve fallen if I hadn’t steadied her. Running out of patience, I grabbed her by the waist and set her down in front of me. “Welcome to one of my favorite places in the world.”
She stepped past me, moving farther into the room. Her head swiveling in all directions. “It’s… it’s…”
“It’s my woodworking shop,” I said.
* * *
“And this is the table saw, which I use almost as much as the jigsaw I just showed you.”
Gabi nodded. She’d been very quiet as I showed her my workbench, the various tools I’d used to make things like the kids’ fort in the backyard and the banister for the front steps at her house. Her eyes had been wide as she’d taken in the hundreds of tools I had hanging from a pegboard that extended half the length of the basement.
But she’d been so quiet. Maybe she didn’t care about woodworking and had only asked to come down here to express an interest in my hobby? If so, that was sweet of her.