Chapter 3
Three
Reggie
Moving into the cottage with three kids is like trying to herd cats while juggling flaming torches.
Annalise has claimed the smaller bedroom and is already arranging her stuffed animals in what she calls “the perfect pattern.” Nia has barricaded herself in the other bedroom with her earbuds and a stack of books, sending out occasional death glares when anyone dares to knock.
And Jaylen is acting like the couch is his personal kingdom, sprawled across it with his phone.
“Mom, where’s my purple suitcase?” Annalise calls from her room.
“In the car, baby,” I call back, trying to figure out why the kitchen faucet is making a weird whistling sound.
“Can you get it?”
“Can you get it yourself?”
“But it’s heavy!”
“It’s not that heavy, sweetie.”
“But…”
“Annalise Marie, go get your suitcase.”
She huffs dramatically, but I hear her little feet stomping toward the front door. Drama queen. I swear, she gets that from her father’s side of the family.
* * *
The cottage is perfect. Better than perfect. Every detail has been thought through. New appliances, fresh paint, hardwood floors that gleam in the afternoon sunlight. And all the rooms have been updated.
Someone put a lot of work into this place. Someone who wanted it to feel right.
I know exactly who that someone is, and it makes my stomach do weird things every time I think about it.
“Mama, the WiFi password isn’t working,” Nia announces from her bedroom doorway, holding her phone like it’s personally offended her.
“What password did you try?”
“The one you gave me.”
“Which was?”
“I don’t remember.”
I close my eyes and count to five. “Try ‘Mason2025’ with a capital M.”
“I did.”
“Try it again.”
“I did try it again.”
“Try it one more time.”
She rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t fall out of her head, then disappears back into her room. Thirty seconds later, I hear the familiar ping of notifications flooding in.
“It worked!” she calls out.
Of course it did.
I’m unpacking kitchen boxes when I realize we don’t have any food in the house that doesn’t need to be cooked.
Mama said she stocked the fridge, but when I open it, there’s milk, bread, fruits, vegetables, and a variety of raw meats, that’s it.
Definitely not gonna work with three growing kids who are already starting to get that hangry look.
“Okay, troops,” I call out. “We need to make a grocery run.”
“Do we have to?” Jaylen groans from the couch.
“Unless you want to cook tonight, yes.”
“I could do it,” Annalise pipes in, appearing in the kitchen doorway with chocolate smeared on her face.
“Where did you get chocolate?”
“I found it in my suitcase.”
“You packed chocolate in your suitcase?”
“Emergency chocolate,” she explains, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world.
I can’t argue with that logic.
Twenty minutes later, we’re walking into Henderson’s Market, the same grocery store where we shopped at when I was growing up in town. It looks exactly the same. Narrow aisles, creaky floors, and Mrs. Henderson behind the register looking like she hasn’t aged a day since 1995.
“Well, if it isn’t little Reggie Mason,” she says when she spots me. “Though I guess you’re not so little anymore.”
I laugh. “Hi, Mrs. Henderson. It’s good to see you.”
She smiles brightly. “These your babies?”
“Yes, ma’am. This is Jaylen, Nia, and Annalise.” I turn, pointing at my kids one at a time, and they each respond with a wave of varying degrees of enthusiasm.
Mrs. Henderson waves back. “beautiful children. They look just like you.” She leans over the counter conspiratorially. “I heard you moved back home.”
I keep my expression neutral. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good for you. That’s what family’s for. Though I suppose it’s different now, coming back as a single woman.”
And here it is. The reason I’ve been dreading coming back. In a small town like Green Fields, everyone knows everyone’s business, and my business is apparently prime entertainment.
“It’s good to be home,” I respond, trying to keep my voice neutral.
“I’m sure it is. And I’m sure you’ll have plenty of help settling in. The whole town’s been talking about how Blayne Madison fixed up the cottage for you. That man’s got a good heart.”
My cheeks get warm. “He did a beautiful job.”
“He sure did. Spent months on it, from what I hear. Real particular about every detail.”
“Mom, can we get the good cereal?” Annalise interrupts, thank God, because I can feel Mrs. Henderson gearing up for more.
“Of course, baby. Go pick out what you want.”
As the kids scatter through the store, I try to focus on my shopping list, but I can feel Mrs. Henderson’s eyes on me.
And when I turn the corner into the cereal aisle, I nearly crash into a cart being pushed by a woman who’s about my age with perfectly styled blonde hair and a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes.
“Oh my goodness, Reggie Mason!” she squeals. “I heard you were back!”
I recognize her face, but it takes me a second to place her. Jennifer Something. We went to high school together. She was head cheerleader, dated the quarterback, thought she was hot shit.
“Jennifer, hi. How are you?”
“I’m wonderful! Married to Dr. Patterson now. You remember Tim, right? Two years ahead of us in school? We have the most adorable house on Maple Street.”
“That’s great.”
“And you’re… well, I heard about the divorce. I’m so sorry. It must be so hard, starting over at our age.”
The sympathy in her voice is about as genuine as her hair color.
“I’m doing fine, actually.”
“Oh, I’m sure you are. You were always so strong. And I’m sure you’ll find someone new eventually. Though I suppose the dating pool is pretty limited here in Green Fields.”
I’m about to respond when I hear a familiar husky voice behind me.
“Excuse me, ladies.”
I turn around and there’s Blayne, pushing a cart with what looks like enough food to feed a small army. He’s changed out of his work clothes into clean jeans and a black t-shirt that shows off his tanned, muscular arms; his hat still firmly in place. And that ruggedly handsome face… Phew.
“Blayne!” Jennifer’s voice goes up about three octaves. “How are you?”
“Jennifer.” He nods politely, but his eyes are on me. His expression, neutral. Like a big, tall, sexy, stoic cowboy. “Reggie. How’s the cottage?”
“It’s perfect,” I answer a bit too loud, but I mean it. “You did an amazing job.”
“Good. If you need anything, just let me know.”
“I will.”
We’re staring at each other again, and I can practically feel Jennifer’s curiosity radiating off her like waves.
“Well,” she says, “I should let you two catch up. Reggie, let’s get coffee sometime. I’d love to hear all about your life in the city.”
She pushes her cart away, but not before giving me a look that says she’s filing this interaction away for future gossip sessions.
“Sorry about that,” Blayne says once she’s gone, his deep voice gone flat. “Jennifer Patterson’s got a mouth like a megaphone.”
I let out a surprised laugh. Blayne Madison has a sense of humor… who knew?
I shake my head, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s fine. I expected it.”
He shrugs one mountainous shoulder. “Still sucks.”
He’s right. It does suck. But there’s something about the way he says it, like he genuinely cares about my feelings, that makes it suck just a little less.
We’re quiet for a beat, eyes lost in each other’s. Then I shake myself. Determined to be friendly to this man who’s done so much for my family over the years, and now me and my children.
“Are you feeding an army?” I ask, nodding toward his overflowing cart.
His perfectly sculpted lips twitch again. “Crew’s coming over Sunday to watch the game. These guys eat everything in sight.”
I let out another laugh. “That sounds fun.”
“It’s loud and they leave a mess,” he replies with a slight frown, but I see the amused twinkle in his blue eyes.
“But they’re good guys,” he ends with an actual smile this time.
And seeing his face relax, the corners of his eyes crinkle, I wish I could be the one putting that expression on his handsome face.
What the hell, Regina?!
“Well, I should let you get back to your shopping,” I say rapidly, even though I don’t want to. But I need to put some distance between this man and my ovaries.
“Yeah,” Blayne replies, but he doesn’t move. He hesitates for a second. “The kids settling in okay?”
“Annalise is treating our move like an adventure. Nia’s pretending she hates everything, but,” I raise a victorious finger. “I caught her arranging her books on the shelf in the living room. And Jaylen’s becoming one with the couch.”
Blayne lets out a short chuckle that instantly makes my nipples harden. Oh, Lord… “Sounds about right for a fifteen-year-old.”
“You remember being fifteen?” I can’t help but ask curiously.
“I remember being a pain in the ass, yeah,” he lets out another deep rumble of laughter. Then his tone turns matter-of-fact, no longer amused. “Kid’s probably doing better than I was.”
Before I can respond, Annalise appears at my elbow, arms full of cereal boxes. I roll my eyes.
“Mama, can we get these?”
“Baby, that’s like six boxes of cereal.”
“But they’re all different flavors!” My baby girl…
“Hi there,” Blayne says in his husky voice, looking down at her from his mighty height.
I watch as this mountain of a man crouches down to get closer to my daughter’s level, and my breath catches.
He’s even bigger than I remembered. Easily six-foot plus, with shoulders that strain against his black t-shirt and arms that look like they could lift a car without breaking a sweat.
The cotton fabric clings to his chest in a way that makes my lady-bits notice.
His dark hair is curling at the collar under his hat, and I can smell his soap.
Something clean and masculine that makes me want to step closer instead of maintaining proper grocery store distance.
There’s a day’s worth of stubble along his jaw, and when he speaks to Annalise, I can see the way his throat works, the strong column of his neck.
Fuck, he’s hot. Am I reacting this strongly to this man because I’ve been celibate for so long?
I mean, I’m not blind. Even when I was dating my ex, then engaged to him, and then married, I noticed how incredibly handsome Blayne was.
But I guess I didn’t really allow myself to linger on it…
“I’m Blayne,” he introduces himself in a gentle voice.
“I’m Annalise. Are you the one who fixed our house?” my girl asks, all big brown eyes and bright smile.
His forearms are on display as he rests his hands on his knees, and I find myself staring at the way his muscles shift under his tanned skin.
There’s a thin layer of hair there, cut by a scar running from his wrist to his elbow.
And I wonder if it’s from work or maybe his time in the army that Daddy told me about.
For some ridiculous reason, I want to trace it with my finger. Or my lips…
“I helped fix it, yeah. You like it?” Blayne continues talking to my daughter like she matters, like she’s not just some kid taking his time.
“I love it! My room has a window seat and everything.”
I smile, looking at my little sunshine. Then, turn my gaze back to Blayne.
Something shifts in his expression, and I watch the way his ice-blue eyes warm for my baby girl.
His eyes have always been his most striking feature, pale blue against his sun-kissed skin, framed by long, dark lashes that any woman would kill for. Gah…
“Good. Your grandma told me you might like that.”
He talked to Mama about us? The thought makes my stomach fill with butterflies, but more than that, watching him with Annalise does something dangerous to my chest. This massive, intimidating man, who looks like he could bench press a truck, is being so sweet to my baby.
The contrast is heartbreakingly beautiful: his big, calloused hands staying perfectly still while she bounces around with her armload of cereal boxes, his deep voice all quiet and gentle.
“Mama, can we get ice cream too?” Annalise asks.
“We’ll see.”
“That means yes,” she tells Blayne with a conspiratorial whisper, and we all laugh.
When he stands back up to his full height, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. The corners of his mouth, still twitching.
“I figured.”
And there it is, the briefest glimpse of something warm in his eyes as he looks at my girl. My six-year-old princess has managed to crack the armor of this giant, gruff man in about thirty seconds.
My heart can’t take much more. I have to resist the urge to fan myself with my shopping list.
“We should really get going,” I say before I do something stupid like invite him for dinner or ask him to flex so I can see if his biceps are really as impressive as they look under his shirt. Or just climb him like a tree…
“Yeah. See you around, ladies.”
“See you around, Blayne.”
I watch him walk away. All broad shoulders and confident stride, his jeans fitting him in a way that should be illegal, and try to ignore how my eyes want to linger on his ass.
Then I realize Annalise is staring at me with a knowing look that’s way too mature for a six-year-old.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she says, but she’s grinning.
Great. Now, my six-year-old is reading me like an open book.
I gather up my kids and finish our shopping, but I can’t stop thinking about the way Blayne looked at me, like he was seeing something he liked. Like maybe, just maybe, years of distance is about to become something else entirely.
And that thought scares me almost as much as it excites me.