Chapter 5
Five
Louise
Holy. Fucking. Muscles .
This is it. This is how I die.
Send condolences to my family.
Official autopsy report will state that I died of an aneurysm, or maybe cardiac arrest. Just, everything in my body is giving up on life at this point, staring at the hottest freaking man I’ve ever seen in my damn life.
There may be drool, I’m unsure as of this moment.
I’m too scared to check with him watching me from down the hallway, having caught me staring like a creeper.
But looking away is not physically possible.
Like I’m caught in some trap those insanely blue eyes have created.
There’s no way I can remain living next door to this man. I won’t make it. I will absolutely no way in hell survive it. He’s too goddamn attractive for my starved libido, and I’ll end up making a fool of myself—more so than I already have—if I remain living here as this man’s neighbor.
Guess I’ll have to move again after all. Bummer.
Finally, his gaze drops from mine and he ducks his head, that magnificent body disappearing through the doorway as he steps through it on his way to find a clean shirt.
Pretty sure if he’d asked, I’d have cleaned up the spilled coffee off his skin with my tongue and happily said ‘thank you’. He wouldn’t even have to ask nicely.
“So, Dad keeps calling you Princess, but we know that’s not really your name, so what is your real name?”
My attention comes back to the two girls on either side of me at the high-top counter where they’ve perched themselves on old-school style wooden barstools.
Standing between them, I look down at Chloe and don’t bother trying to hide the grin that pulls at my mouth. Of course he would call me Princess.
“My name is Louise, but everyone calls me Lou,” I tell her, sticking out my hand for her to shake. She does, giggling, before I turn to the middle aged one on my other side and do the same. “What is your name?”
“I’m Bailey, and this is Chloe. Abigail is our big sister, but she’s in her bedroom upstairs.
She doesn’t like to come out very much anymore, since Mom left,” Bailey says, pointing toward the staircase that leads to a loft that looks identical to mine.
“Abigail gets her own room because she’s the oldest. Our bedroom is upstairs, too.
We have to share, and we have bunk beds. Do you have bunk beds in your house?”
“Uhh, no,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I live by myself, so no need for bunk beds.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Bailey asks, looking up at me as she leans on the counter with her forearms.
Laughing again, I stammer, “Uhh, no. I do not.”
Their dad exits the bedroom down the hall, fresh t-shirt in place, and I hate to admit that I’d have very much liked to see him without a shirt again.
“Dad, we found out her name! And she lives by herself, and she doesn’t have a boyfriend!” Chloe calls from beside me when she sees him, and I blush hotly as he comes toward us, stopping on the other side of the counter. Ohmygod this is embarrassing.
He braces his hands on the edge of the counter and leans on them, the muscles in his forearms and biceps bulging and shifting with the movement.
Hoping to avoid the awkward topic of my relationship status, I stick my hand out over the expanse of counter that stretches between us. I wait until he takes my hand in his own, heat and electricity zapping straight through me, before I murmur, “Umm, I’m Louise Miller.”
“But everyone calls her Lou,” Bailey adds in helpfully from next to me, and I can’t help but grin again.
“Lou?” he asks, dark brows raising slightly. I’m grateful he’s ignoring the other part of the information dump his daughters had just given him. I think I might die if he mentions it.
So, I nod. Honestly, I can’t concentrate on anything other than the warmth of his hand wrapping around mine. He hasn’t let go, and I haven’t either. I don’t think I want to.
There’s a fine-line, black and gray floral tattoo sleeve that covers the entirety of his right arm, from wrist all the way up his arm.
It must go clear to his shoulder, because it extends up beneath the short sleeve of the t-shirt he has on.
It’s stunning and delicate in design, but it somehow doesn’t diminish the pure masculine energy that radiates off of him. It’s hot as fuck.
“Zach Macomb.”
Zach. God, of course he would have a hot name, too.
“Hi, Zach,” I somehow manage to whisper. I let the feel of his name roll around on my tongue. I like it. It fits him. “Nice to finally know all of your names.”
After what feels like a small eternity, he relinquishes his grip on my hand and resumes his stance of bracing himself against the counter edge, his gaze panning from one little blonde on my right to the other on my left.
They both giggle. The sound is so carefree, and it’s easy to see that they’re happy and thriving here with him.
Like he’s their safe place. I love that.
“I’m shocked this cake isn’t half gone already,” he deadpans, winking at both girls. Shit. My ovaries.
“We were waiting for you, silly,” Chloe crows, giggling again. She hops down off the barstool and races to the foot of the staircase, shouting up them, “Abigail! Time for cake!”
“I don’t want any,” comes a muffled response. Chloe’s shoulders sag slightly.
“But—”
“Chlo,” Zach interjects, notching his chin to bring her attention back to us. “She’ll get some later. We’ll make sure she has some when we do gifts this afternoon.”
“Okay…” Chloe mumbles, backing away from the door to rejoin us at the counter.
“Dad, did you remember candles?” Bailey asks from beside me, and I raise my eyes to his in time to see the flash of panic in them.
I can’t help but laugh, and his dark brows pull low over his eyes as he glares at me. So grumpy.
Sticking my left hand into the pocket of my jacket, I pull out a small package of pink glitter birthday candles and hand them over to him. He shakes his head ruefully, his lips pulling into a line, as if trying hard not to smile.
“I’m not usually this bad at the whole dad thing,” he mumbles out of the corner of his mouth, and I grin.
“It happens to the best,” I say gently as he pries the candle package open.
Sticking six of the glittery candles into the top of the cake, he produces a lighter from one of the drawers in front of him.
“I am warning you all, I may dress up as a princess, but I was not gifted with a princess’s singing voice. I apologize in advance.”
“Oh, Dad can’t sing either, but he does in the shower a lot anyway,” Bailey pipes in from beside me, and the glare he sends her way makes me roll my lips in between my teeth to keep from laughing out loud.
This poor man. These girls are brutal in their innocent honesty.
I love it. Well, except when they’re announcing that I don’t have a boyfriend to their stupidly hot dad.
“Yeah? Shower concerts are the best,” I tease, grinning over at him. He rolls his eyes, his face splitting in a smirk. “My sisters used to hide the Bluetooth speaker from me if they knew I was headed to the shower.”
“You have sisters?” Chloe asks, glancing up at me as Zach pulls the cake closer to start lighting the candles one at a time.
“I do,” I say, nodding. “I have three older sisters: Tessa, Sienna, and Darci. I’m the baby of the family.”
“I am, too!” she says, a grin splitting her face. “But, there’s only three of us, and not four. Oh! Can I wish for a baby sister for my birthday?”
Zach fumbles the lighter and it drops to the counter with a clatter.
God, these girls are hilarious and keep their dad on his toes, clearly.
He coughs, his eyes flashing up to mine briefly before returning to the cake as he finishes lighting the last two candles.
“Uhh, no, Chlo. You may not wish for a baby sister for your birthday. Or a baby brother, for that matter.”
“Awww,” she whines, her little shoulders slumping.
I laugh then, patting her shoulder. “It’s better being the baby of the family anyway. I promise.”
“If you say so,” she mumbles, and I have the feeling she doesn’t believe me.
I grin again just as Zach pushes the cake forward across the counter toward Chloe, all the candles lit, the flames dancing.
As one, we all sing a very off tune rendition of Happy Birthday, but based on the wide smile across Chloe’s face, she couldn’t care less how awful our collective singing is.
She’s fairly dancing in her seat by the time we finish, and she looks expectantly up at her dad before taking a huge breath and blowing out all six candles.
“I wished for—”
“Don’t say it out loud!” Bailey screeches, waving her arms frantically at her little sister.“It won’t come true if you say it out loud!”
“Ooooohh,” Chloe breathes, nodding, eyes wide. “Got it!”
A chuckle rumbles out of Zach as he shakes his head just a little.
He slides the cake back toward himself, plucking the spent candles out of the top and setting them aside.
I lean on my forearms on the counter, still positioned between the two girls while he grabs a small stack of paper plates from one of the cupboards, then produces four forks from the drawer at his hip.
A big butcher knife is next, and then he pauses, looking at me before holding out the handle of the knife in offering.
“It’s too pretty to cut into,” he says, and I laugh, nodding.
“That’s why you’re going to cut into it and I’m not.”
He rolls his eyes and flips the knife in his hand again. “That’s just mean.”
“You clearly don’t know me well enough yet. My sisters would tell you I’m the worst of the bunch and mean to boot,” I laugh.
He glances up at me after making several clean slices through the cake, and the way those blue eyes travel over my face and then back to mine makes my breath hitch slightly. “I have a really hard time believing that, Louise.”