24. A Hot Distraction
A HOT DISTRACTION
RAYMOND
“S o, what’s going on with you today?” Alex nudges my sneaker with his, dragging me out of my thoughts.
“What do you mean?” I deflect, leaning back on my hands against the concrete bench. My eyes remain fixed on the group of boys crowding around the drink table as one of the staff members cuts the cake Willow and I made.
I close my eyes for a brief second, and there she is again. Willow. That woman has taken up permanent residence in my mind, and after last night, I’m not sure I’d want it any other way.
“Look at yourself,” Alex says, pushing my shoulder. “Smiling like a lunatic for no damn reason. And let’s not forget your stellar performance on the field today. Even the kids were trying not to laugh at your pathetic attempts. Is this all because of the hot nanny-slash-fake fiancée, or is there something else?”
Hot. Yeah, she’s hot as hell. But that word barely scratches the surface. Stunning, yes. Gorgeous, absolutely. Strong, fiery, and somehow soft all at once. Then there’s her heart.
I still cannot believe she thought of making a homemade cake for my daughter, knowing full well she can’t bake to save her life.
“Ray,” Alex snaps me out of my thoughts. “You’re still grinning like that and it’s starting to scare me.”
“She might be hot, but like you said, she’s the nanny and my fake fiancée. It’s already too complicated and temporary.” I try for casual, try to ignore the way my chest tightens at the thought.
“Not for long.” Alex raises an eyebrow like he knows exactly where my thoughts are headed. “Once the project is done, this charade will be over and you can start something real.”
His words hit like ice water down my back. Yes, she’s supposed to leave. In fact, I was the one who proposed an end date to this partnership in La Bella Vita, but now, a vision of my home without Willow steals the breath from my lungs. No more hearing her laughter spill from Quill’s room. No stolen moments in the pergola where I catch her off guard. No more teasing her until she’s breathless in the kitchen or making her lose herself in the bedroom.
And damn it, I want all of those things again. Every single one of them.
But does she too? Or would she really leave? Just pack up and walk out of Quill’s life? Out of my life? It seems almost impossible to imagine my home without Willow in it.
“Stop that.” Alex stands abruptly, his sneakers scraping against the concrete, and plants himself right in front of me, cutting off my view of the boys and the cake.
“Stop what?” I ask, leaning forward slightly, trying to escape his laser-beam stare.
“All those negative thoughts swirling around in your thick skull,” he says, gesturing with a hand like he’s shooing away imaginary clouds. “You’re acting like a guy who doesn’t realize he’s winning. The important thing is that she makes you happy.”
“Really?” I cock an eyebrow, reaching for sarcasm to defend myself. “I thought she—or, you know, whatever this is—was making me distracted.”
Alex’s lips curve into a knowing smirk. “Of course, your attention span is laughable right now, but you’re also happy and so is Quill. So, what’s the problem?”
I blow out a long breath, trying to exhale my frustrations, but I just end up inhaling them again. “The problem is, Willow doesn’t want the same thing I do. So when she’s out of my house, she might be…gone from our lives.”
Alex’s forehead creases. The shocked look he gives me is so dramatic it pulls an annoyed groan out of me.
“God, your face right now is doing wonders for my ego.”
He scoffs before clearing his throat. “I’m not surprised because I think you’re some divine catch or gift to womankind. I just thought Willow was into you.”
“Maybe she is,” I admit, the confession dragging out of me. “But not in the way I want. I don’t do casual, and for some reason, Willow Pershing is terrified of anything serious.”
Understanding dawns on his face, softening his usually sharp edges. “Wow,” he says, nodding like he’s pieced together a mystery. “I didn’t know you felt that way about her.”
“Believe me, it’s a revelation for me too,” I admit, dragging a hand through my hair. “Since Quill came into my life, I never thought there’d be anyone else I’d bring into our home. But…Willow fits. She fits in my house, in my life, like she was all we needed to finally be happy. To be complete. She’s like the last piece of the damn puzzle.”
The words tumble out of me like a dam breaking, raw and unfiltered. When I glance at Alex, his expression—somewhere between shock and disbelief—would be almost comical, if I wasn’t dying of embarrassment. I brace myself for a smug punchline, some kind of teasing jab, but nothing hits me. Instead, he clears his throat, his face uncharacteristically serious.
“If you, Quill, and Willow are that perfect together, and it’s just her fear holding her back, are you really not going to do anything to change that?” He puts everything out in simple words. But making Willow see this will be anything but simple.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do. It’s not like I have experience in going after girls.”
“Okay, then let me ask you something you know very well. What happened with the Pershing land, Ray? Her cousin doesn’t seem to be causing any problems. In fact, if anything, that guy seems to just be…gone.”
Yeah, I’m not surprised. I was waiting for one of my cousins to bring this up. There’s no point in evading the question. It’s not like Alex can’t find out the truth if he wanted. There’s official paperwork and a sale agreement, after all.
“I bought the land from him.”
“And you were saying you don’t have experience.” His smug grin says it all, and I look away, suddenly feeling like I’ve said too much.
“For someone who’s sworn off romance, you sure have a lot of unsolicited advice.”
Alex doesn’t flinch, but his lips press into a thin line, the same way they always do when the topic of his dating life comes up.
“I heard Chloe was spotted with Vincent Belmont at Paris Fashion Week,” I say casually, testing the waters with a little bait of my own.
His jaw clenches so tight I half expect him to crack a tooth. But I know this isn’t news to him. He would never admit it out loud, but we all know he has his own security detail on Chloe.
For all his calm-and-collected demeanor, Alexander Teager’s personal kryptonite is Chloe Hawthorne.
“You know no one cares about anything else except you two being happy,” I press. “You’re not related by blood, for Christ’s sake, and she?—”
“She’s my cousin, the daughter of my mom’s sister,” Alex snaps, his voice razor sharp. His fists clench at his sides, his entire body rigid. “I don’t give a damn what you or anyone else thinks about me not being born into this family. Rosemary Teager is my mother. Period.”
He’s halfway to storming off when I grab his arm, my grip firm and my chest tight with frustration. “Hey, what the hell was that? You think anyone in this family, especially me, thinks you don’t belong?”
He shakes me off, but the flicker of remorse in his eyes softens my frustration.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt when you think you’re protecting her. Chloe loves you. We all know that. That girl’s a wild card, and no one knows where her limits are.”
“I’ve got bigger things to worry about than Chloe and her limits,” he bites out.
“Really?” I challenge, his words grating against every nerve. Here I am, spilling my heart out to him, and this asshole is lying to both of us. “Then I guess you won’t mind that she’s showing up to Quill’s birthday with Vincent.”
His head snaps toward me so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t pull a muscle. “She’s bringing who?”
I raise a brow, my expression all innocence. “What? Your security team didn’t mention that Chloe’s coming to Cherrywood next week?”
Alex doesn’t answer. He spins on his heel and marches away, his back tense with purpose.
* * *
A few minutes later, after saying goodbye to the kids, I head toward my car in the parking lot. I spot Alex leaning against his Porsche, scrolling on his phone like he’s hunting for something. I lift a hand in a casual wave. He glances up long enough to give a half-hearted nod before diving back into his screen.
For his own sake, I hope my stubborn cousin pulls his head out of wherever it’s stuck and realizes what the rest of us already know—his happiness is Chloe, and hers is him. The whole family knows it, even if Alex is too stubborn—or scared—to admit it.
Sliding into my car, I grab my phone and start typing out a text to Grandpa Will.
Me: How is everything at home?
I don’t hit send right away because what I really want to ask is how Willow’s making my daughter stronger one day at a time. I want to ask if my girls are having fun while teaching Captain Lick, the laziest dog in the universe, a trick and failing badly.
My thumb hovers over the button for another beat, before I stick to the safe route and press send.
A reply comes instantly.
Grandpa Will: Everyone here is perfect.
A picture follows. It’s Willow and Quill climbing the porch steps, morning light catching their beautiful faces. Willow’s juggling Captain Lick in one arm and a small wicker basket in the other.
They’d planned a breakfast picnic in the garden, and suddenly, I wish I’d canceled everything to be there. Not just to catch a possible new word from Quill but to soak in moments like this—small, happy pieces of life that feel bigger than they are.
I zoom in on the picture, taking in the way Willow’s powder-blue top matches Quill’s pajamas. And today, even Captain Lick is sporting a matching scarf around his neck, I’m sure out of Quill’s insistence. My chest tightens, and a knot of emotions tangles somewhere between gratitude and longing.
I glance back at the picture and then at the lazy dog in Willow’s arms, an idea sparking like a light bulb. I shoot off a quick text to my cousins, laying out my plan. When I glance out the window again, Alex is still standing there, his shoulders bunched with tension as he glares at his phone like it’s offended him.
Something stirs in my chest—empathy, or maybe understanding.
Loving the wrong girl. Is that what we’re both doing? Or is it fear? Fear of being hurt? Of wanting something so much it feels impossible?
I’ve been telling Alex to take the leap, to stop letting his fear hold him back. Maybe it’s time I start taking my own advice. Maybe it’s time I show Willow what this could be instead of waiting for her to figure it out.
As I’m about to toss my phone on the passenger seat, it buzzes with a notification. Alex’s reply is the first to come through.
Alex: I’ll go home for a quick change and meet you at the hardware store.
Confirmation texts from Rowan, Archer, and Charles follow in rapid succession.
With the plan set in motion, I send one last text to Grandpa Will, asking him to handle dinner and drinks for the guys. Cider for Daisy, and for Willow, a bottle of her favorite wine. If I’m going to woo Willow Pershing, I better do it the way she deserves. Full-on Raymond Zach Teager–style.