Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
H olt woke on the cusp of dawn with an armful of warm, sleep-scented woman and the corresponding morning wood urging him to roll her beneath him for the wedding night he’d denied them both.
Not what she needs, jackass.
Willing away the erection, he turned his face into her hair, enjoying the silky feel of it against his cheek. They didn’t have time for a lazy morning. There was work for them both and school for Maddie. But for a few more minutes, he could enjoy this closeness. Sometime in the night, she’d rolled over, and he’d gone with her, wrapping around as big spoon. His palm pressed against the softness of her belly beneath the sleep shirt. Because it itched to slide higher to explore the curve of her breasts and the hard-on wasn’t showing any signs of flagging, he eased away, careful not to wake her.
Slipping on his leg, he made his way carefully into her bathroom, checking out the shower situation. A teak bench took up one corner of the small walk-in shower. He could work with that. Retrieving his duffel bag from the living room, he shut himself into the bathroom to clean up and get ready for the day.
Cayla hadn’t woken by the time he finished. He didn’t know what time she normally got up and wasn’t entirely sure what time school started here, but either way, he figured he could get Maddie up and going so she could grab some extra shut eye.
The kid was spread eagled sideways across the bed. At least half the stuff animal mountain had ended up on the floor.
Grinning to himself, Holt gently jiggled the one little foot sticking out from under the covers. “Wake up, Bumblebee. Time to shine.”
On an incoherent noise, she yanked the foot away, curling her whole body up like a hedgehog.
Remembering all the mornings he’d had to fight Hadley’s profound objections to waking, he tugged the blankets off. “Up and at ’em. C’mon. If you get up now, you can choose your own outfit for school. Otherwise, you’re stuck with whatever I pick.”
Maddie rolled off the bed and into the pile of plushies. Her tousled head popped up a moment later. She blinked owlishly at him. “I’m up.”
“Are you really?” Far too often, his sister had made the same claim and then crawled right back into bed the moment he left the room.
“Can I wear my rainbow tutu to school?”
He didn’t see what it would hurt. “Why not? Do you take your lunch to school?”
She nodded, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
“Okay, I’m gonna go put one together for you. Get dressed and come on into the kitchen. I’m going to make you some breakfast.”
“’K.”
The Trolls lunchbox was on the counter. After starting a pot of coffee, he scoped out the contents of the fridge and pantry and began putting together what he hoped would pass muster for lunch. Classic PB and J sandwich, string cheese, and a little tub of applesauce. Maddie came wandering in as he popped in a strawberry-kiwi juice box to round the whole thing out.
She had, indeed, worn a rainbow tutu, along with purple leggings and, if he wasn’t mistaken, at least three shirts, layered one on top of the other.
“You cold?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Why so many shirts?”
“I couldn’t decide, so I’m wearing them all.”
Not up to arguing with that logic, he pointed at the table. “Have a seat.”
Instead, she climbed up onto one of the barstools to sit at the counter. “Where’s Mommy?”
“Still sleeping. She was extra tired. What do you usually eat for breakfast?”
“Lucky Charms!” The shameless grin told him this was not the truth. Or at least not a weekday truth. Cayla struck him as the sort of mom who might allow a bowl of those on Saturday morning.
“Try again.”
Those little shoulders twitched in a shrug. “I don’t know.”
“Do you like scrambled eggs? Fruit?”
Maddie wrinkled her nose. “Fruit doesn’t go in scrambled eggs, silly.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. You wanna try eggs the way I like them?”
“Okay.”
Figuring he could scarf them down if she didn’t like them, he pulled out a tomato, onion, bell pepper, cheese, and the carton of eggs and set to dicing.
“How do you like your present?”
Holt glanced over. “My present?”
“Us. Mommy said you needed a family, and that we were gonna play a big game of pretend to give you one.”
He went very still. So this was how Cayla had explained things to her. Pretend. He got it. She was protective of her daughter and wouldn’t want her getting confused, no matter how genuine the legal ties actually were.
Still, he couldn’t quite deny the pinch around his heart at the idea that this wasn’t, on some level, real. Which was foolish. He’d known what he was signing on for when he made the offer. This was a marriage of protection. There was friendship and affection between them all. He couldn’t expect anything else, no matter how comfortable he’d been in Cayla’s bed last night. But he also knew that the only way this ruse would work was if Maddie didn’t tell people it was pretend.
“I like it very much. You two are a really special present. But you know what?”
“What?”
“If you tell everybody it’s all real, then it’ll feel more real. The very best games of pretend are the ones where you forget you’re playing. Can you do that?”
“Uh-huh. Can you real-pretend you’re my daddy?”
Oh, man, this kid. Holt considered his answer as his heart turned to goo. “Would you like that?”
“I never had a daddy before. And you’re fun. Nobody else’s daddy can do Maui like you.”
“Then yeah, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to real-pretend that, too.”
Maddie beamed. “Okay!” Her smile turned suspicious as he slid a plate of food in front of her. “What’s that?”
“Confetti eggs.” In truth, it was a lazy man’s omelet. Scrambled eggs loaded with veggies and cheese. He knew he was taking a chance putting vegetables in front of a kid her age, when there was a strong possibility she didn’t believe in foods touching, but he figured it was worth a try.
He brought his own plate over and sat beside her. “They’re my favorite.”
She gave the eggs a cautious sniff and shot him a side eye. “Do these have ’gredients?”
“What are ’gredients?”
“Stuff like broccoli .”
“I can assure you there is no broccoli.” He scooped a bite into his mouth. “Mmmm. Cheese. You like cheese, right?”
“Yeah.”
“These have cheese. Try ’em. I mean, if you don’t want them, I can eat your share.” He leaned over, as if to scoop her food onto his plate.
“No! Mine!” She took a hefty, defiant bite. Her little face blanked, and he braced himself for her to spit them back out. “Mmm. I like confetti.”
Holt was mentally patting himself on the back when Cayla came rocketing into the room, her hair standing up at all angles, her sleep shirt baring one shoulder. “Oh my God, I overslept!”
Making a concerted effort not to stare at that shoulder, Holt forked up another bite of eggs. “I’ve got it covered. Have some coffee.”
She stared at him, then at her daughter, who’d already almost cleaned her plate, then to the lunchbox ready and waiting at the end of the island, looking for all the world as if someone had struck her upside the head. “You… got her ready for school?”
“Not my first rodeo, and I figured you deserved to sleep in. Yesterday was a lot.”
Maddie slid off the stool.
“Go brush your teeth, Bumblebee.”
“’K.” She skipped her way down the hall, her tutu bouncing.
“And really brush them. I’m gonna check!” he called after her.
Cayla’s throat worked, unmistakable gratitude shining in her eyes.
It occurred to him that with her ex never having been involved, she’d never had any sort of help other than her mom. She’d never had anyone to pick up the slack or let her sleep in. He vowed he’d do whatever he could to ease some of her burdens while they navigated the threat posed by Raynor. She deserved that.
“I wasn’t sure exactly what time she needed to be dropped off or where. You can tell me, and I can take her while you clean up for work, and I’ll come back to get you. Or you can grab a quick shower now, and we can both take her and go to work together. I figured it made the most sense for us to stick close together for now.”
Crossing the room, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. Give me fifteen minutes.” Then she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek that had him wishing for so much more of this real-pretend life.
Cayla never would have imagined the weekday morning routine could be an erotic experience. Then again, she’d never had anyone else’s help getting it accomplished. Coming out to find that Holt had wrangled Maddie out of bed, gotten her dressed, fed—with vegetables— and otherwise more or less ready for school, all so she herself could sleep in a bit had filled her with so much gratitude that had there been time and an empty house, she quite possibly would have jumped her new husband. Instead, she’d hurried to get dressed and piled in the car with them both for a weirdly domestic ride to school, where Holt and Maddie had sung along to some adult-friendly kid movie playlist he’d found, and she drank her first cup of coffee without having to risk third-degree burns down her throat. If not for the persistent throb between her legs, she’d have been certain she was dreaming again. But surely the dream version of this scenario would have seen her actually following through on her less than PG expression of gratitude.
“What’s on your list for today?”
Cayla blinked, dragging her mind away from the start of that fantastic daydream. “I’ve got a meeting first thing with Misty Pennebaker. She’s coming in early, before she opens Moonbeams and Sweet Dreams.”
“That’s the flower and gift shop downtown, right?”
“Yeah. It’s her shop. We work together a lot on events. This happens to be about her upcoming wedding. She was the bride I was out with at karaoke night and is a good friend of mine.”
As they neared her little building, Cayla spotted Misty’s car out front already. “Oh, no.”
Holt tensed. “What is it?”
“What am I going to tell her about us? What are we going to tell everyone about us? We weren’t even dating, so far as anyone knew, and now we’re married. People are going to expect a story to go along with that.”
He relaxed as he turned into the gravel lot. “Do you trust her with the truth?”
She considered the question. “Yes. She’s no gossip. But this is going to keep coming up. We have to have something to tell people about our relationship.”
“Then we’ll figure it out. Are you free for lunch?”
“Yeah. My other appointments aren’t until this afternoon.”
“Okay. I’ll pop back over then and bring food, and we can get our story straight.” Apparently decided, he slid out of the driver’s seat.
“Well, okay then,” Cayla muttered. She got out herself in time to see Holt wave at a gaping Misty.
He circled around the car and pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch. And lock the door.” Then he was striding across the street and up the hill to Bad Boy Bakers.
Cayla watched him go, unable to stop herself from admiring the absolute perfection of how he filled out a pair of jeans.
“Girl, what was that? ” Misty demanded. “You’re coming to work in the same car?” She lowered her voice. “Did he spend the night? Did you finally break your sex fast?”
I wish.
On a sigh, Cayla scooped a hand through her hair, trying to figure out what to say.
Misty lunged forward, grabbing her left hand. “Is that…? Are those…? Cayla! Did you two get married? ”
She blinked down at the rings, thinking it odd that it didn’t feel strange to have slid them on this morning. It had been six years since she’d worn wedding rings, and the set she’d been given by Arthur had been massive and ostentatious, so heavy they were almost their own form of mental shackles, reminding her she belonged to him. Her grandmother’s rings, slipped on in a judge’s chambers by a man she’d known for only a matter of months, felt right there. She ran a thumb along the warm circle of gold.
“We, um, kind of eloped yesterday.”
Misty squeed so loud that three guys walked out of Willie Thompson’s Garage next door to see what the fuss was about. Offering them a little finger waggle, Cayla grabbed her friend by the elbow and towed her inside.
“Oh my God, tell me everything! Don’t leave out any details.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“The incredible hunk of hotness that you’ve been crushing on for months didn’t sweep you off your feet?”
“Not exactly.”
Picking up on Cayla’s less than celebratory mood, she sobered. “You don’t seem entirely happy. Was it some kind of crazy drunk mistake?”
“No. No, it was entirely on purpose. I need more coffee for this story.” Moving past her to the little kitchenette, Cayla went through the motions of making another pot and admitted what she’d told no one else in town about her ex-husband, before explaining how Arthur was out of prison and that they’d decided to go through with Holt’s blurted cover to protect Maddie. “So… yeah, we got married yesterday.”
A mug clasped between her palms, coffee all but forgotten, Misty absorbed all of it. “Is that actually going to work?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea if it’ll be enough to keep Arthur from gaining any sort of custody. I don’t know how long it’s going to go on or what it’s going to do to Maddie when things are over.”
“Or what it’s going to do to you?” Misty asked gently.
Cayla collapsed back against the counter, wishing she’d already gotten some furniture for this place besides what was in the tiny office in the back. “That’s… a consideration.”
“How… real is this marriage going to be?”
“I don’t know that either. We’re both attracted. I’m pretty sure we both have some kind of feelings for each other beyond friendship. But we didn’t… well… consummate anything last night. He hasn’t even really kissed me.” She told Misty what he’d said before bed. “It seems like he’s open to more, but he’s making sure we don’t rush into anything on that front.”
“That’s a very knight-in-shining-armor-fairy-tale-prince sort of thing to do.”
“Yeah,” she sighed.
“You don’t agree?”
“I do, and I don’t. It’s sensible. Considerate. But all these feelings are spun up inside me. He’s so amazing with Maddie and incredibly thoughtful on so many fronts. Just seeing what needs doing or what might help and doing it without having to be asked. He’s like a friggin’ unicorn. It would be so very easy to be swept away by that.”
“And that’s a problem?”
“I’ve been swept away before, and the prince turned out to be a malignant toad.”
“Are you worried Holt will turn out to be something he’s not?”
“In the sense that he’s somehow a bad guy? No, not at all. A bad guy wouldn’t have gone out of his way to do what he’s done to protect us. But I can’t help worrying and wondering how long it’ll be before he starts to feel trapped by his own nobility.”
“You think he will?”
“I don’t know. Despite the fact that he’s attracted, he wasn’t going to pursue me before circumstance forced his hand. I don’t know if he’ll regret this decision, so I’m trying to take things slow and not be swept away by all this forced proximity. No matter how insanely appealing I find him.”
“Makes sense. But are you hoping something more real and permanent grows out of this?”
“I wasn’t looking for that. It’s why I haven’t dated since my divorce. But, I mean, you’ve seen the man. He’s smart, funny, sexy as hell, and he adores my daughter. I’d be crazy not to hope this turns into something real.” She set her mug aside. “It goes without saying that we won’t be sharing the real story with the public, so keep this to yourself.”
“Cone of silence, for sure. And I’ll do whatever I can to help with things, including slipping the details you want spread into the gossip vine.”
That was a thought.
“You just might be onto something. We haven’t had time to figure out what the official story is going to be yet, but obviously there has to be one, and it would be better if we find a way to control the narrative.”
“Well, there’s one very obvious way to do that.”
“And that is?”
Misty’s brown eyes twinkled. “Throw a Surprise-We-Eloped! shindig and invite everyone you know.”