20. Becca
TWENTY
BECCA
Ellie’s hand is in mine as we use a flashlight to navigate to the cottage, T-Bone trotting by my side. We haven’t seen Tyler in a couple hours, and it’s almost Ellie’s bedtime. I want to make sure she has a chance to say goodnight, and give Tyler the opportunity to put her to bed if he wants.
While we ate the dinner that he made, he confessed he could count the number of times he didn’t put her to bed on one hand. Three years of this child’s life, and he was there for almost every single time she fell asleep.
And all these years with little to no help. It makes my chest ache to think about it.
“Our pumpkin princess looks so beautiful in the moonlight!”
I look over at the stack of pumpkins we made, covered in an old dress of mine with yarn hair glued on top. “She is real pretty, isn’t she?”
“I can’t wait for Daddy to see her.”
“What do you think we should name her?”
Ellie launches into a long list of potential names for our pumpkin princess, but I’m already distracted.
Through the cottage’s window, I can see Tyler, his toned, slender back covered in a sheen of sweat.
He’s smoothing something over the wall, muscles bunching with each movement.
His ballcap is turned backwards and his pants hang so low that I can see the suggestion of an equally muscle-clad butt.
Was this man an asshole just last night? Yep.
Do I care right now? Nope.
Last night, his comments stung, clinging to my skin like a jellyfish at Myrtle. Now, those comments could deflect off me like a quarter machine bouncy ball.
He made my favorite muffins. He made dinner. He’s working on this house for me. The man’s hanging drywall for pete’s sake. And he’s not wearing a shirt to do it.
If he were so inclined, I’d let him spend the night in my bed.
For once in my life, though, I realize that doing so right now might be a terrible idea.
Past Becca would do it anyway, make things messy just for the thrill of it. I thrived on chaos.
But with this little girl next to me in the mix, I want to tread cautiously. We’ve already opened Pandora’s box by doing this roommate situation. If things aren’t going to work out, they need to go back home sooner rather than later, before Ellie gets attached to me, to this life on the farm.
Is this what people mean when they talk about growing up? My first concern isn’t sex. It’s making sure this little girl’s heart is protected.
“Okay, big step up!” Ellie and I climb the cottage stairs and I knock before we pass through the front door. “Hello?”
“In here,” Tyler calls. I already know where he is, but I don’t want to lead with hey, I was already staring at your incredible bod and thinking I want to put my mouth all over it. He has a couple smears of spackle on his skin, a streak down his abs, a layer of it on one thumb.
“Daddy!”
“Hey, shug.” I love how he talks to Ellie, the raspy voice that always has a smile behind it.
He empties his hands on the ladder next to him and crouches down to let her run into his arms. He scoops her up and gobbles her cheeks until she giggles and shrieks.
I let them carry on for a minute until he turns his attention to me.
“Looks good,” I say. “You made a lot of progress.”
“Trying to earn my keep,” he says, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
“Well, you can quit for the day whenever you want.”
He gazes at the newly erected wall with a critical eye. “Still got a few things to finish up. Don’t want to leave it half done.” He turns to Ellie. “Is it alright if Miss Becca puts you to bed? You can show her your favorite book.”
“Oh, I’d love that,” I say, trying to be as enthusiastic as possible.
Her face doesn’t reflect any excitement at the prospect. “What about Pussy’s song?”
Tyler’s cheeks redden and he stifles a laugh when he glances my way. “I bet you can teach it to Becca. She’d love to sing Pussy’s song.”
“Okay,” Ellie says, but her eyes go glassy. “Will you be in the next room later?”
Tyler nods gravely. “Of course, shug. I’ll be sleeping in the next room as soon as I get done here. You’ll be asleep but I’ll come give you a kiss anyway.”
Will he come give me a kiss too? I want to make a joke, but for Ellie’s sake, I keep it to myself.
I’m trying not to stare, really, I am. But his bicep is so deliciously full as he holds her up on his hip. The man is a poster child for excellent fatherhood, an overworked mom’s wet dream.
I’m not even an overworked mom and it’s having an effect on me. My evening shower might be spicier than normal while I work out some of these feelings.
An image of Tyler showering, water sluicing down those muscles, comes into my head and I have to physically shake it to make it go away.
“You alright, Reba?”
I shiver, and not just from the cool fall evening. “Yeah, sorry. Just tired.”
He bobs his head. “Alright. Straight to bed, both you girls.”
Tyler hands Ellie off to me and kisses her cheek. He pauses next to me before training his gaze on the floor. Of course I’m not getting any affection. It’d be weird for Ellie, and for both of us.
“Goodnight, Daddy.”
“Night, shug. I’ll see you in the morning and we can have another couple of those muffins Miss Becca likes so much.”