Protecting the Boundary (LA Wolves #8)

Chapter 7

SEVEN

My alarm goes off at five a.m. so I can be up before Kaylee wakes up at five thirty. I get out of bed and head downstairs to get my first cup of coffee so I can be somewhat functional by the time Kay is awake. It’s unfair that kids can wake up before the sun has even risen with enough energy to power a whole city, while the rest of us struggle just to function.

Taking a sip of my coffee, I stare out the kitchen window to the backyard and notice the net over the pool is off.

My brows furrow. What the hell?

Panic hits me that Kaylee might’ve woken up before me and gone outside. I rush out the door only to stop two feet from the pool when I see long, tanned arms slicing through the water.

Meredith’s body glides effortlessly, like she’s been swimming every day of her life. I try to steady my erratic heart rate from the panic of worrying Kay got into the pool without supervision, but the longer I watch her, the more chaotic my heartbeat seems to get.

My jaw clenches as she stops at the edge of the pool to catch her breath. She turns her head in my direction and jerks.

“Shi—” she catches herself before the curse word fully leaves her lips. “You scared me.”

I scowl at her. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes go wide at my question—or maybe it’s because I delivered it like an accusation. “I wanted to get a workout in before Kaylee woke up. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked.”

“Yes, you should’ve.” My jaw clenches tight at the slightly wounded expression in her gaze. I don’t know why I’m being such an asshole. I scrub my face and let out a breath. It doesn’t do anything to calm my heart rate, but it does clear my head a little. “Sorry. Of course you can use the pool. I just thought Kay had gotten out here on her own.”

Understanding dawns on her face. “I’m so sorry. I can text you next time to give you a heads-up.”

“Sure,” I acquiesce. If I say anything else, I’ll come off as an even bigger asshole. “Listen, Kay will be up soon if you want to dry off and come to the main house for breakfast.”

She nods, but still looks at me like she’s not sure what to expect from me. Frustrated with myself, I spin around and head back toward the patio door. When I hear water sloshing, I glance behind me and watch her grip the edge of the pool and push herself up out of the water. She’s wearing a conservative black one-piece bathing suit, but it’s still the most naked I’ve seen a woman since my wife died. My gaze is glued to her lithe form as she stands on the edge and wrings water out of her dark hair before grabbing a white towel that she must’ve placed on the lounge chair before she started swimming.

I stand transfixed, frozen to the spot. And then before I even have a chance to remind her—before she even goes inside to get changed—she walks around the pool putting the safety net back in place. My chest feels tight, and before she can catch me watching her, I duck back inside and head straight for the stove to make breakfast.

I pull out a skillet, but I barely see it. All I can see is Meredith lifting herself out of my pool, the way the water ran down her skin, her toned arms gripping the edge of the pool, and then how she took the time to secure the net before worrying about herself.

I grip the edge of the counter and tuck my chin to my chest, trying to pull myself together. I owe her an apology for my behavior—a sincere one, not the gruff, half-assed one I gave her outside when I realized I was acting like a grumbly jerk. I’m not usually a giant asshole, but I keep scolding her like she’s done something wrong when she hasn’t.

So why does she bring out that side of me?

I’ve never been that guy. I’m the nice guy. I’ve always been polite, respectful, even-tempered. Then Meredith shows up and suddenly I can’t stop questioning everything she does and frowning at her all the damn time.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I try to figure it out, but when I hear a door open upstairs, I know my time for self-reflection is over. It’s time to focus on being everything my daughter needs, especially since I have to remind her this morning that I have practice today. I’m bracing myself for the silent tears she’s given more often than not lately. It makes it harder to leave her because she’s not normally so emotional. She’s always been close to me, but this last year, she’s become more aware of me being away. It’s as if she thinks if I leave, I’ll never come back.

Which may be a valid fear for a kid who’s already lost one parent.

She walks into the kitchen wearing her pink unicorn pajamas and holding her favorite wolf stuffy that my mom bought her the last time she was in town. She smiles wide and runs around the island to my open arms as I squat down to pick her up.

“Morning, Daddy,” she says, squeezing her arms around me, her voice still groggy from sleep.

This little girl has no idea what I would do for her, or how much her simple “Morning, Daddy” always makes my day. As angry as I was at Sydney for not fighting, for letting the cancer progress because she wasn’t willing to risk her pregnancy, I understand her decision whenever I look at our daughter. I didn’t have the same connection Syd did with our daughter—not at the time—but I do now and I would never trade Kay for anyone or anything. While I wish I could’ve had them both, I’m thankful every day that Sydney and I made this beautiful, brave, and brilliant little girl.

“What would you say to pancakes for breakfast?”

“Unicorn Pancakes!” she shouts before bursting into a fit of giggles that bring a smile to my face.

“Anything for you, baby girl.” I set her down. “Go grab the step stool and you can help, okay?”

“Okay,” she says before running to the hall closet where we keep the step stool for when she wants to help with cooking.

The back door opens and Meredith steps through, her posture more timid and reserved than it was yesterday, and it only reminds me again about what a giant asshole I’ve been to her.

“Hey,” she says with a weak wave. “Is Kay up yet?”

“Miss Mere!” my daughter shouts as she comes back into the room with the step stool in her hands. She holds it a bit awkwardly, but I know how important it is for her sense of independence to do it on her own. “We’re making unicorn pancakes!”

Meredith’s face lights up with a smile as she gives all her attention to Kay. The room seems to get noticeably colder with her ignoring my presence. “Unicorn pancakes? I don’t think I’ve ever had those before. ”

Kay looks at her, stunned, and then stands next to me and hands me the stool to open for her. “Daddy makes them.”

Meredith doesn’t look at me, but stays focused on Kay, and I can’t blame her. “That’s so nice of him.”

“Yeah,” Kay says and then steps up onto the top step of the stool. “I help, Daddy?”

I drop a kiss to the top of her head. “Of course. I can’t make unicorn pancakes without my helper.”

Needing to thaw the ice that has formed between Meredith and me, I try to offer an olive branch. “You’re welcome to help yourself to some coffee, if you’d like. We’ve got half and half in the fridge, sugar right over there,” I say, gesturing to the sugar tin. “Or some coffee creamer that I buy for when Larissa comes over to watch Kay.”

She takes a seat at one of the island stools and folds her arms before resting her forearms on the counter. “I’m okay. Thanks.” She still doesn’t look at me, her gaze set on watching Kaylee’s every movement.

Well, shoot. So much for an olive branch.