Chapter 19
19
He’d successfully thwarted Murdoch Michael. Ronnie was still in shock he’d managed it. That was how he’d gotten her into his truck again. Shock.
Ronnie stared up at the house looming before her, its weathered grandeur both impressive and slightly intimidating. Okay, more than slightly. "George, this house is... enormous."
Why did one man need such a monstrosity? She had walked by his house a few times before—they weren’t that far from her apartment—but never had she really looked at it.
What had he been thinking?
The porch steps shouted in protest under their feet as George guided her up with one hand at the small of her back. His touch sent little shivers of awareness through her that she desperately tried to ignore. The man had commandeered her just that morning—and he hadn’t given her back yet.
Even though Murdoch had demanded he do just that. Only Ronnie telling her brother that they had some baby daddy details to work out and she would text him that she was okay later had kept her brother from cleaning his clock.
Murdoch was seriously becoming a bit too cranky lately.
He needed a good woman. She was going to have to find him one soon. Besides, her alien-baby would need cousins to play with, after all.
"It's a work in progress. And I’m doing the work when I can—I’ve just been busy, and the practice was more of a priority. But I’ll get the house finished as soon as I can—before the baby.” The lock stuck twice before finally giving way. "Watch your step. The entryway's a bit... rough."
Rough was an understatement. The foyer's hardwood floors were freshly sanded and smelled slightly of oak. They would be beautiful—when he was finished with them. A massive chandelier hung overhead, its crystals catching the light and throwing rainbow shadows across walls that couldn't seem to decide if they were cream or... was that avocado green?
"When was the last time this place was renovated?" Ronnie was seriously trying not to laugh at his expression right now. George in lawyer mode was very forceful and intimidating—and sexy, no denying that. Georgie surrounded by home renovation chaos was... a bit too adorable for her to think about. Sexy she could probably deal with, but adorable? Yikes.
"Parts of it? 1972. I’m sure of it. Some of it might be older. But it’s sound. Passed all inspections. Grady—one of the twins—is helping me when he can. I’ll get all of them out here this weekend to do the major projects. We are good at that kind of stuff. The kitchen's new, though. Come on."
She followed him through an archway, noting the careful restoration work on the wooden details. Someone—George?—had stripped away decades of paint to reveal the original craftsmanship on one side. The other side was still painted. She looked closer—those were height marks right there with long-ago names like Ruth, and Hester, and Wilbur. It was beautiful, even half-finished. This house had been filled with a family before. With children. It was the only thing that made sense.
She could just imagine little Ruth and Hester and Wilbur running around in vintage clothing, playing here, safe and sound and loved.
The idea was completely beautiful.
The kitchen, true to his word, was stunning. Gleaming stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops created a jarring contrast with the vintage charm of the rest of the house. And the tile work was beautiful. "This is... unexpected."
"A man has to have priorities." He opened the massive refrigerator, which looked like it belonged in a restaurant. "I thought you might be hungry. The baby?—"
A ripping sound stopped him. Ronnie turned. As a chunk of wallpaper as tall and wide as she was drifted down to the floor of what she suspected was a dining room nearby, but now had... file boxes piled everywhere. That man… one of a kind.
"Not again. I swear I put that back last week." He just looked so disgruntled.
The laugh bubbled up before she could stop it. Georgiano Hiller, terror of the courtroom, done in by vintage wallpaper. "Did you actually fix it, or did you just stick it back up with hope and prayer?"
"There might have been some tape involved."
"Tape." She couldn't help it. The giggles took over completely. "You tried to fix hundred-year-old wallpaper with duct tape?"
There was familiar silver tape looped on the back of that wallpaper.
"It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was going to have the boys fix it properly later—but then you showed up and rocked my world and now... fixing this place suddenly became a lot more important. I promise... it’ll be safe here for you and the baby. I’ll make sure of it."
The intensity in his voice made her heart skip. "George..."
Another strip of wallpaper chose that moment to fall, landing right in the middle of the file boxes. George said a word that he’d better never teach their alien-baby as he looked at it.
"Okay, maybe tape wasn't my finest moment. But in my defense, I've been a little distracted lately. Thinking about a certain law clerk who disappeared on me. Missing you too much."
"I didn't disappear, I quit. There's a difference."
"After we..." His eyes heated, burned with that fire again.
"After we created this situation?" She rested her hand on her stomach, watching his eyes track the movement. Oh, he was looking at her with that same fire again. "Yes. It seemed like the right thing to do. Now... I’ve just complicated your life even more."
And she felt like the world was tilting again. Making her want to cry. The baby... changed everything for him, too.
"You think you’ve complicated my life?" He braced his hands on the counter on either side of her, effectively caging her in. Not that she was trying to escape too hard. He felt too warm, too perfect, surrounding her. "Veronica, you and the baby are my life. I’ve been in a trance for three damned months. Watching you leave that night was the hardest thing I have ever done in a long, long time."
Oh. Oh.
She almost thought he meant it. Damn him. He knew just how to... oh . "George... show me the rest of the house. Then dinner. Then... we are going to talk. Figure out what we want to do next."
"I know what I want to do next." There was that seriously heated look in his eyes again. The way he had looked at her that night. Oh, damn him. "Deal. Although I should warn you, the wallpaper in the master bedroom is holding on through sheer force of will at this point. I’ll make that room a priority. This weekend. I promise."
"The master..." Heat flooded her face as implications hit. He was thinking she was going to be spending a lot of time in that master bedroom of his, wasn’t he? "George! I will not be in your master bedroom."
"Just stating facts." He turned back to the stove, but not before she caught the satisfied smirk on his face. "Now, how do you feel about mushroom chicken? The sauce is my grandmother's recipe."
Well, talk about distracting. She was starving, after all. "I feel like that might be emotional manipulation."
"Is it working?"
"Maybe. But I am still plotting revenge for you just commandeering me yet again. I am going home tonight, you know. Just so you know."