Chapter 16
Chapter 16
B aking with children was always better in theory. In Jordan’s imagination, she and Charlotte would bond enviously, like something from a Hallmark commercial, as they mixed up a batch of cookies. In reality Charlotte dumped four eggs on the floor when she hastily retrieved them from the fridge, put both hands in the dough, and licked them clean while Nash manhandled the butter. The kitchen, if it could still be called that after so much abuse, now looked like some sort of flour-covered battlefield, and it would take her five times as long to clean up what she could easily have done solo. Her patience was gone, as was her willingness to ever bake with her children again. Really, what had she been thinking?
“Well, this is something.”
Suddenly Gaines stood in the kitchen, appearing through the mist. Or in this case a spray of flour from Charlotte’s latest over-enthusiastic cup dumping. Jordan was so startled she tossed the egg she’d been about to crack into the air and Gaines, being Gaines, casually reached over her head and caught it mid-air, keeping it perfectly intact. Then he opened his palm and presented it to her like a freshly picked gardenia.
Instead of taking it Jordan remained staring at him, speechless with surprise at his unexpected appearance.
“You said to let myself in,” he reminded her, smiling a bit devilishly at her confoundment.
“I did at that,” Jordan agreed, suddenly aware of all the twelve thousand hairs that had escaped her messy bun and were now covered in flour and plastered to her face. In contrast he was impeccable, as ever. “You look…” her words trailed away, unable to continue under their own steam, all at once realizing they were being fueled by awkwardness and it was better to stop before they slammed into the wall of humiliation. Any number of words could have filled in the blank, but “delectable” hovered on the tip of her tongue, and that would never do. “Serviceable,” she finally blurted, hoping he failed to notice the newly acquired sheen of panic sweat on her upper lip.
One corner of his mouth tipped, roguishly, she thought. “I am always happy to be of service,” he agreed and though he had probably meant it innocently, Jordan flushed and looked away, unable to maintain eye contact. What on earth was going on? Why did Gaines seem to be flirting with her? Was it merely his default mode and she, newly single, had been sucked into the flirtation radius? He must have some sort of gravitational pull on single women, which she now was, that left them flustered and discombobulated by his overabundance of charm. It bothered her, that. Both his flirtation and her reaction to it. Because he had to know how vulnerable and lonely she was. As such, it seemed cruel to play on that, to rely on their long friendship as a buffer, certain she could use it to resist him. Similarly, it bothered her that she couldn’t seem to muster her usual protection.
Then men in Jay’s world, men like Gaines, rode their charm, good looks, and high levels of testosterone like a team of Pony Express horses. Only they seemed to know the password to make it stop; everyone else was haplessly in danger of being run over. Jordan had always been impervious. While married to Jay, safe and boy-next-door cute Jay, she had watched their antics with high amusement, witnessed dozens upon dozens of women get caught up in the myth— a Navy SEAL —only to get tossed away at some unfortunate point. Jordan had shaken her head, not only at the dangerous and borderline cruel game the men played, but at the woman’s willingness to go along. Really, had they no respect? Were they so easily swayed by a square jaw and daunting military career?
Apparently yes, and now she was one of them.
Gaines helped himself to the drawer with the dishcloths. Jordan watched while he wetted it with warm water and then, instead of attacking any of the counters or cabinets that had been covered in today’s baking war, turned his attention to her, tenderly wiping her cheeks, eyes, forehead, and chin as his free hand held her still. His eyes followed the movements of his cloth, intent and precise, giving careful attention to detail so Jordan was suddenly left wishing she’d remembered to apply makeup that morning. Not that it would matter now when he was washing her.
Finally satisfied, he paused cleaning and smiled, his left hand now cupping her neck as his forearm rested on her shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she repeated, soft and a little shy. “Sorry it’s so…and I’m so…and everything is so…” She faltered, not wanting to point out her ineptness, in case he hadn’t noticed, but also needing to address her ineptness, because of course he’d noticed.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, smiling deeper so his hide and seek dimple popped.
“I just…” apparently they were feigning ignorance over the ineptness. Duly noted and moving on. “So, you’re here.”
“Is that okay?” he asked. His thumb began smoothing up and down her windpipe and her brain faltered and short circuited.
“What?”
“Is that okay?” Gaines repeated, only Jordan had lost the thread of the original conversation and now thought he was asking if it was okay that his thumb eased up and down her windpipe.
“Yes, that’s, um, good, really good thumb work.”
Now his other dimple popped. “What?”
Suddenly Jordan remembered the original question and wanted to crawl in a dark hole until the humiliation passed. Divert, divert, divert. “Are you hungry? You must be hungry.”
“Starved,” Gaines said, but he didn’t let go or look away and the way he was looking at her was sort of…wolfish? She’d only ever received that look from Jay, when he came home from deployment or assignment, high on testosterone and intent on “claiming his marital right,” as he used to jokingly declare. But surely she had it wrong and Gaines wasn’t now giving her the same look. This must be part of his spiel, the one he used on unsuspecting women. He was likely so used to the routine he didn’t even realize he was wasting it on Jordan. And of course it was a waste because…because why? All of a sudden she couldn’t seem to remember. It was one of those tunnel sorts of moments, when everything faded to background and there was only her and Gaines, his hand warm and possessive on her neck. Jordan had just started to tip the slightest bit forward on her toes when Nash launched a wooden spoon at her, bashing it hard against her shin.
She howled, hopping on one foot with the pain of it, and her masochistic baby giggled maniacally, taking another swing to try and elicit a similar response on the other shin. Thankfully Gaines kicked into gear once again with the reflexes and saved her aching legs, swooping the baby into his grasp and relinquishing him of the spoon in one smooth motion.
“Okay?” he asked Jordan, though he couldn’t disguise his own amusement.
She nodded, blinking back tears.
“This little guy’s got quite the arm,” he said, bouncing Nash who trilled out a loud yell, enjoying the shift in his voice with every volley.
Jordan didn’t reply because, as much as the smack had stung her leg, the tears had nothing to do with Nash and everything to do with Gaines. And also herself. What was he doing, flirting with her that way? And what was she doing, responding to him? If Nash hadn’t stopped her, what might have happened? Was she about to throw herself at Gaines and kiss him?
Mortifying, absolutely mortifying. He would have been forced to reject you; you would have made him feel terrible, might have wrecked everything between you. Don’t be so stupid, Jordan. Don’t be so relentlessly stupid. And also desperate. Needy. Clingy. Crazy, and everything else you’ve heard the guys called their SEAL groupies over the years. You’re not one of them, not one of the desperate and lonely hangers on. You’re a recent widow with class and dignity. Act like it!
Nash, tired of the bouncing, began to squirm. Gaines set him down and he was off, ready to find more trouble. “Hey,” Gaines said, easing his arm around Jordan who still stood on one foot like a flamingo. He gave her shoulders a bracing squeeze. “That hurt.”
His tone was a mix of laughter and sympathy but Jordan, so hungry for the sympathy she felt like she was starving, leaned in and pressed her nose to the crook of his neck. His head tilted, resting comfortingly on hers as his grip tightened. Her foot lowered and she took a deep breath, inhaling the distinct scent of him, one she didn’t know she’d catalogued and assigned until that moment.
I know exactly how Gaines smells. My body knows and remembers, she realized. She squeezed her eyes shut and clutched his shirt in her fists, suddenly feeling like maybe class and dignity were overrated. Because this, this feeling in this moment, of belonging and security and comfort and care, were far more valuable currency, more potent than anything she’d previously encountered.
Gaines ran a hand down the back of her head, curving it against her skull in a gesture that, unless she was misreading it, felt possessive. Slowly his face slid sideways, beard rasping on her forehead until his soft lips slid against the fragile skin below her hairline. His lips began to part, with a kiss or a word she had no idea because at that moment a furry nose popped between them, creating a space like a crowbar as first Charlotte’s stuffed dog and then Charlotte herself wedged between them.
“Wibs wants a hug, too,” she demanded, holding her stuffed dog aloft for Gaines’s inspection.
Gaines took a step back and regarded her with a smile. “Absolutely.” When he picked her up and held her tightly, Jordan’s heart pinched painfully. She missed Jay, yearned for the way he’d do the same. But it was also right somehow that Gaines was here, doing it in his stead because Gaines had always been there, had always loved on her kids. It wasn’t new or unusual, but she still felt the lack of their father. It was a strange mix of pleasure and disappointment. Gaines was here, and that was wonderful; Jay was not, and that was horrible. Somehow it was possible to feel both things and she stared at the picture Charlotte and Gaines presented, wondering what other things it was possible to feel together. Grief…but also love?
Jordan jumped as if she’d been stung, and that was how she felt. Of course she wasn’t in love with Gaines. My lands, she thought, pressing her hand against her cheek as she turned her attention away from the beautiful picture her friend and daughter presented. She was lonely and desperate for comfort and she could not, absolutely would not mistake that for something more. Not for anyone.
It’s not for anyone, though. It’s for Gaines, her sneaky brain told her.
It wasn’t as if she’d felt any sort of attraction to Ridge, Ethan, Frog, or Jones. Or any other man. Perhaps it was merely proximity. Gaines was nearby, and no one else was.
She let herself believe it, but as Gaines stormed through the house, making Charlotte giggle as he pretended he’d forgotten she was there and still attached, she knew it was a lie. The truth, however, was still too fraught to handle, and she refused to let herself find it.