Chapter 17
SLADE
I roll over on my back and punch the pillow a few times, trying to get comfortable. I stare at the ceiling, listening to the soft, muffled voices filter in from the other side of the house.
I could be watching a movie or the sports recap. Instead, I’m lying in the dark, listening to make sure Krissy gets home and wondering what tomorrow will be like with Sarah and the kids.
Maybe I’ll go to the shop and get a head start on the week.
As Sarah packed up her things, she asked me four times if I was sure about her staying here, as if she was expecting me to change my mind. Or maybe she wanted me to.
I didn’t like it—that she was worried about staying here.
When I told her everything was fine, I wanted her to know it—to believe me.
This evening was fine. It was more than fine.
Ollie sat with me, watching the game, and I told him everything I knew about planes.
Sarah sat with Frankie, reading books and stacking colorful blocks so that she could knock them over.
Her giggles filled the space when Sarah made exaggerated crashing sounds.
Then, of course, Trig and Carson joined in.
But now, I wonder what she’s thinking. Is she sitting in the kitchen, telling Krissy she couldn’t sleep, and this was a huge mistake?
I slap a hand over my face. What the hell am I becoming ?
This is a neighborly gesture. She’s staying for two, three days tops. That’s all this is, and then I can get back to focusing on Krissy moving out and hiring another mechanic.
The voices die down, and I hear the stairs creak as they ascend. The silence is worse as I try to calm my mind and relax my body. After another wasted thirty minutes, I throw the sheet off and sit on the side of the bed.
I go to the bathroom and decide that if I can’t sleep, I might as well review inventory logs or start on payroll. I walk down the dark hall and find the kitchen light on.
I stop in the doorway, Grover’s head rises quickly from the floor, and he stares at me from Sarah’s feet. Her head rests on her arm on top of her open textbook with a highlighter still in her hand.
She looks peaceful. Beautiful.
I step into the kitchen and stand over her. Her long hair is a messy pile on top of her head, but loose strands fan across her cheek. I carefully brush the hair out of her open mouth, watching my fingers glide along her soft skin.
She pops out of the chair, almost knocking it over, and I grab her by the waist to keep her from falling with it. Grover lets out one quick bark and then settles with his tail wagging as if this is a new game.
“Holy shit,” she huffs, her eyes wide in alarm.
I maintain hold of her as she glances around the kitchen, her chest moving in and out quickly, and then her gaze meets mine. She pushes out a breath, wipes the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, then . . .
She tips forward, her forehead falling gently against my chest, her hands fisting my T-shirt. I. Don’t. Move. I inhale the scent of sunshine and ocean, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin layer of cotton.
“You scared the absolute shit out of me. What are you doing?” Her hands tug on my shirt.
“I was. . .getting something to drink and gonna work for a while.”
Her head falls back to look at me. “Now? ”
I try not to smile, but it’s difficult. “You need to go to bed and get some sleep.”
Her hands release my shirt, and I drop mine from her waist. “You’re bossy even in the middle of the night.”
I think about asking her if her sassy mouth ever stops running, but I decide that might lead me to do something I’m still fully contemplating.
Her sleepy eyes stare into mine as if she’s waiting for me to agree.
One side of her mouth curls up. “I have a feeling underneath that strict, commanding regime is a reckless rebel just itching to throw all caution to the wind.”
Those tantalizing eyes crease in the corners as they study mine. She has no idea the battle beginning to wage within me.
She reaches up and pats me in the center of the chest. “It’s ok, Wildcat. Your secret is safe with me.” She grins.
My hands ache to pull her right back to me and find out what her mouth feels like against mine. I exhale slowly, not having any idea what I’m doing.
She twists and closes her book and computer, wrapping them against her chest.
I haven’t moved. I’m still locked in whatever the hell this woman is doing to me.
Her eyes fall to my bare arm and the ink that covers it. Her head cocks to the side as if she’s observing a rare painting.
I cross my arms over my chest. “I charge viewing fees. Extra for them to be ogled.” There we go. This is my house, and I’m coming back. She has not won.
She makes a snorting noise. “I was just considering if a tattoo would help me pass statistics.”
Her eyes fall to my tattoo of Newton’s third law again.
Her lips move to the side, hiding a smile as she steps around me. “I’ll remember the fee and who to come to if I have to take physics. You can text me a quote for borrowing your arm.” She and that sassy smile disappear around the doorway .
My eyes roll to the ceiling as my fists uncurl, and my body stands down from everything it was tempting me to do.
I run a hand through my hair.
“Slade,” she whispers.
I twist and see her head peeking around the trim. “Good night. Don’t let the bugs bite.”
This was a fucking terrible idea.
I pull a bottle of water from the refrigerator and guzzle it, knowing that if I’m going to maintain any semblance of my simple life and the comfort it provides, I need to get to the shop early in the morning and stay there.
______
I scoop coffee grounds into the filter and press the button. The sky beyond the small kitchen window is beginning to brighten.
If I hurry through the shower, I can hopefully make it out the door before Sarah wakes up.
I need space to think and process, and that cannot happen when I’m in close proximity to the blue-brown-eyed woman upstairs.
She takes all of the strict rules I’ve lived by and shreds them to freaking pieces with one smartass remark after another.
It wouldn’t matter, except she pinpoints my weak spots and drills right through—all of the fractures no one else seems to see.
The coffee pot spurts and hisses, and I turn—
Oliver stands in the doorway, rubbing one eye with his fist. “I’m thirsty.”
Grover quickly follows behind him, barging into the kitchen.
I run my hand through my hair, pushing it away from my face.
Well, shit. So much for my plan.
I exhale, resting my hands on my hips. “Ok. Do you want some water?” He shakes his head. “What does your mom usually give you?”
He shrugs his shoulders.
“Coffee? ”
A sleepy grin curls at his lips. “No, Mama d-d-doesn’t let me have coffee.”
It’s clear Oliver has a speech impediment. I really noticed the day in the grocery store when he was upset about Sarah not letting him have a balloon, but I can tell it’s worse when he’s excited or tired.
I grab one of the two sippy cups on the towel beside the sink. “If I give you orange juice, will that get me in trouble?”
He shakes his head, but the mischievous look in his eyes tells me it might. I take a gamble and pull the bottle from the fridge, pouring him some.
He tips the cup to his mouth and drinks, the pressure releasing when he pulls it away. “D-d-do you have Bluey ?”
“What’s that?”
“The sh-show with Bandit, Bingo, B-bluey.”
“I don’t know. Want to go see?”
He nods, running past the couch to the recliner. I search for a cartoon called Bluey . “Is this it?”
He nods and smiles. “It’s so funny, Swade.”
I select an episode and then set the remote on the couch. “I’m going to let Grover outside, ok?”
He doesn’t respond, already fully zoned in on the screen, but Grover, having heard the magic word, is at my feet, ready to go.
I quietly open the back door, and he runs into the yard. I watch, calling him when he’s done.
I pour a cup of coffee and return to the living room with Ollie.
“Swade, watch.” Ollie pats the spot beside him in the recliner.
I sit, and he climbs onto my lap, giggling at the big dog, pretending to toast the two little dogs inside a trampoline.
We watch the full episode of the dogs playing ridiculous games, and Ollie holds my face to be sure I’m catching the best parts.
When the credits roll, he twists. “I’m hungry.”
“What do you usually eat for breakfast?”
Another shrug .
He takes another swig of his orange juice, and I surrender. My plan for this morning is obliterated.
“Do you like pancakes?”
His blue eyes, except for that one brown slice, grow wide, and he nods.
“Bacon?”
He nods again.
“Want to help me make breakfast?”
He hops off my lap. “Can I wick the spatula?”
I set him on the counter, and he mixes the pancake batter as the griddle heats. I drop the strips of bacon onto the pan, and it sizzles. He helps me scoop the first round of pancakes onto the flat surface.
“Oliver Tate, you weren’t supposed to leave the room without waking me.”
Our attention snaps to the doorway and that tone. The one that sounds like we are deep shit.
Sarah holds Frankie against her chest, with a floppy stuffed lamb tucked under her arm, and her face hidden in Sarah’s neck.
“Mama! We’re making you p-pancakes!”
This kid is smooth. I want to fist-bump him, but I’ll save it for later.
“I see that, but you know you weren’t supposed to come down without me.”
“Sorry.” He slumps, and I flip the pancakes and bacon.
I peek over my shoulder, and she’s still standing there, in those short shorts and oversized T-shirt. . .staring. I ignore her and how good she looks, still a bit dazed from sleep.
I drop more batter onto the griddle, but I can’t take it.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
Now, it’s that other tone. The one that lights a fire in my belly. This is exactly what I didn’t need today.
I turn, crossing my arms over my chest. “What?” I ask again with more patience than I expected .
“I just. . . I’ve never seen you without a hat. It’s like. . .you’re Green Lantern instead of Batman.”
Ollie giggles, covering his mouth with his hand.
“What?”
She waves a hand. “Nothing.” Her lips twitch. “I thought. . .you were probably balding and had one of those spots you were covering.”
I rub my beard, trying to understand what I’m supposed to do with this woman. “I didn’t have a hat on last night.”
Her eyes move back and forth like she’s trying to recall. “Truuue, but when you scare the crap out of someone . . . Yeah, I really wasn’t thinking about your hair loss insecurities.” She steps into the kitchen. “Premature balding is nothing to be ashamed of.”
I have to visit the barber every three weeks. I’m not even close to balding, and I suspect she’s fully aware of that.
She peeks around me to inspect the food on the stove. “I’m sorry. I hope Ollie didn’t wake you.”
“I was up. We had a couple of beers and talked about the weather.”
She leans against the counter and yawns, running her hand up and down Frankie’s back, whose head pops up to stare at me. “Shocking, isn’t it, Love Bug?”
I groan, tucking my hair behind my ears, and Sarah laughs.
“The coffee is still hot, and the mugs are in the cabinet behind you.”
She sets Frankie on the floor beside Grover and reaches for a mug, pouring a cup.
“Mmm,” she hums, wrapping her hands around the mug and holding it to her chest like she’s hugging it. “You make good coffee.”
I try not to stare at how incredibly beautiful she is, messy and wrinkled as she savors it.
I shake myself from it, and we divide up the pancakes and bacon.
Sarah tears off pieces of pancake and sets them in front of Frankie.
Ollie twists toward me. “Can we g-go to the park today?”
Sarah runs a hand over his head. “Bud, Slade might have things he needs to do. ”
Ollie’s lips push out like a duck.
“I bet I can fit that in,” I say. “As long as you help me clean the leaves out of the downspouts later.”
“Down s-spouts,” Ollie repeats, but Sarah’s eyes meet mine.
“You really don’t have—”
“It’s fine.” I don’t know where this kid’s dad is, but I know what it’s like to not have one and what it would have meant to me to have someone take me to the park.
She bites the end off a piece of bacon. “Since you made breakfast, how about I make dinner?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Do you cook like you bake cookies?”
“Oh, good grief.” She tosses a piece of dry pancake at me, and it bounces off my chest. “I guess you just have to wait and see.”
It sounds a bit like a challenge. I’m beginning to think I’ll just have to wait and see about a whole lot of things.