Chapter 8
REGAN
The sound of the lapping sea filtered through my consciousness, waking me before my alarm. As late as night had fallen, day broke early, sunlight filtering through the cracks between the automatic blinds. Blinking against the light, I smiled at the sound of seagulls crying.
I’d left a window open last night because it was a little stuffy in my small apartment, and I decided I’d do it again tonight. The sounds of nature as a wake-up call was pretty fantastic.
“Turn on lights,” I said loudly, and all the lights came on in the guest house. I could get used to this. “Turn on coffee.”
A whirring sound from my left drew my attention, and I saw the red light blinking on the coffee machine. I grinned. “Oh, yeah, I could really get used to this.”
Since I was up earlier than I needed to be by half an hour, I dallied while making coffee.
I took my phone off charge with the adapter plug from Robyn.
“Open blinds,” I commanded and then snuggled into the sofa to watch the large blinds on the sliding doors open.
From here, I had a partial view of the sea beyond.
Sipping my coffee, I unlocked my phone and checked my emails.
Nothing. Just spam.
Without social media, there was no one to expect emails or texts from.
The only meaningful friendships—or friendships I’d thought were meaningful—had been with my high school best friends, Xavier and Riko.
Riko had gone on to art school on the West Coast, and we’d lost touch by the end of her freshman year.
Xavier had gone to New York to intern with a CFDA designer, and we’d stayed close—until I went backpacking and started keeping secrets from him.
I tried to call him when I returned to Boston, but his boyfriend answered and told me “to stop calling, bitch, Xave doesn’t want to hear from you. ”
I cried a lot, but I stopped calling.
And the “friends” I’d made on my backpacking trip weren’t people I could count on for any real support.
I literally had no one.
Except Robyn. And my mom and dad.
Deciding quality over quantity was way better, anyway, I pushed away melancholy thoughts, finished my coffee, and got ready for the day.
An hour later, coffee consumed, shower experienced in my amazing luxury walk-in (that was just as good as the one in Lachlan’s guest suite), hair blown dry, and outfit chosen for my first day on the job, I was ready to go.
Deciding comfort was a factor, a shopping spree was in my future to supplement my wardrobe.
I wore one of only two pairs of skinny jeans I’d packed, along with a T-shirt tucked in the front but loose at the back, and too-big sneakers I’d borrowed from Robyn.
I let myself into the main house and deactivated the alarm, strolling quietly into the laundry room first where I separated colors from whites.
Putting a bunch of colors in first, I finished up in there (for now) and wandered into the kitchen.
It was only six o’clock, and no one else seemed to be up yet.
Deciding to get coffee ready for Thane, I fiddled around with his fancy coffee machine until I figured it out.
After making myself a cup, I decided no other coffee would ever do again.
His was amazing. Then the photos on the wall again caught my attention.
After Thane got icy and nonresponsive to my question about his wife, I hadn’t wanted to look at the photos too closely in front of him.
Alone now, I took my time studying the gallery wall of beautifully framed black-and-white shots.
There were tons of cute photos of the kids and a few of Thane and Fran, some from when they were very young until right up to near her death, I assumed.
Again, I wondered how she’d died. Fran was a very pretty brunette, and although I couldn’t tell their color from the black-and-white photos, her light eyes were striking against her dark hair.
It was Thane who surprised me, though.
In the photos of him, younger and beardless, he was shockingly hot.
Not that I couldn’t already tell he was good-looking.
But that massive beard hid a very sexy guy who looked a lot like his brother.
Staring hard at him in the pics, I realized Thane’s eyes differed from Lachlan’s and were his most attractive feature.
They were piercing and intense and soulful and … hot.
Disturbed by how sexy my new boss was, I stumbled away from the photos and told myself it was just the photographs. I didn’t think that about him in real life. The beard totally wasn’t my thing.
At the sound of floorboards creaking above, I set about unloading the dishwasher.
Knowing I’d be too busy later preparing the kids for school, I decided to do their lunches now.
I searched the pantry and guessed at what they’d like.
Sandwiches made, I then went in search of their lunch boxes.
After scouring the kitchen, I finally found cute lunch bags discarded in the mudroom.
Eilidh’s was pink with a unicorn riding a rainbow and an attached pocket for her juice bottle; Lewis’s had Pac-Man printed all over his.
I strolled through the hall and stopped at the sight of Thane standing in the kitchen, sipping his coffee. He wore a white shirt and dark gray suit pants, again so incongruous to his unkempt hair and beard. Without turning, his striking eyes slid to the side to look at me over his cup as he drank.
Strange flutters burst to life in my belly.
First-day jitters, I told myself.
“Morning.” I pushed through the weirdness and gave him a small smile. “I was just making the kids’ lunches.” Moving past him, I returned to my spot at the island.
“Good morning. What did you make?” Suddenly I felt the heat of him at my back as he looked over my shoulder.
He smelled good. Not spicy or musky or “cologney.” He smelled fresh and citrusy. So he was a body wash over cologne kinda guy, huh?
Regan, stop thinking about how good he smells.
“Uh … peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” I half glanced over my shoulder. “Is that okay?”
“They’ve never tried them together like that. It’s an American thing. So we’ll see.” He thankfully moved away, but only to open the fridge and return with two different yogurts. I finally looked up at him and found myself caught in those amazing eyes.
Why had I not noticed how truly spectacular those eyes were?
I really wish you’d stop noticing now!
“Strawberry for Eilidh.” He handed me a yogurt. “Or raspberry or anything with berry in it. No peach, no banana, no vanilla or chocolate … and nothing with bits in them.” His eyes danced with humor. “Eilidh has an issue with food textures.”
I grinned, putting the strawberry yogurt in her lunch bag. “Noted.”
“Lewis will eat anything, but right now he’s on a chocolate pudding kick.” Thane gave me the little pudding cup. “If he doesn’t stop eating them soon, though, we’ll need to force switch him back to a healthier option.”
“Okay. I can do that. What else should go in?”
He reached for his coffee, and my gaze followed the movement. His large hands looked strong, his skin naturally olive-toned, long fingers but big knuckles, veins popping across the top. I wondered if his forearms were veined and strong too.
More flutters in my belly. I guiltily looked away.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I had a thing about nice hands on a guy. Nice hands turned me on. And Thane’s were just about the nicest, most masculine pair of hands I’d come across.
They’re just hands.
And he’s your boss.
And stop thinking the word hands!
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
“You okay?” Thane asked.
“Huh? Yeah. Of course, why?”
He studied me with narrowed eyes. “Because you didn’t respond to my answering your question.”
Oh my God.
That’s right, Regan, zone out on the first day on the job. “I’m sorry. What was your answer?”
Thane frowned. “You’re sure you’re okay? Did you sleep well in the annex?”
“Like a dream,” I assured him. At his continued frowning, I didn’t want him thinking I was a flake, so I blurted out, “I was staring at your hands.”
His lips parted in surprise. “What?”
Oh, Jesus. Well, you’ve said it now! “The reason I didn’t hear your answer was that I noticed you have … hands.”
Amusement lit up his blue eyes, and I could tell he was struggling not to laugh. “That’s right. I do have hands.”
Flushing with embarrassment, I rolled my eyes at myself. “Right. You have hands. I meant you have nice hands.”
“I have nice hands?” he repeated, still scrutinizing me with a sexy smirk on his beard-surrounded lips. I really wanted to take a trimmer to that thing.
Realizing I was staring at his mouth, I flushed harder and looked down at the kids’ lunches. With a blasé shrug, I replied, “I notice nice hands on people. Probably comes from my god-awful attempt to draw them for about a year of art class in high school. Hands are hard.”
“Hands are hard.” I didn’t have to look at him to know he was laughing at me.
“Anyway, you were saying about the kids’ lunches?”
“Well, hang on a minute.” He stepped closer and held out his left hand before us, his fingers splayed. “Are they nice enough to do some modeling, do you think?”
I gave him a pretend dark look at his drollness.
His eyes sparkled down at me. “Do you think I should start wearing gloves? Are my hands a danger to people’s libidos? Am I causing unwitting chaos every time I bring these puppies out? I mean, if people start daydreaming about them, like you just did, while they’re in a car with me, it could—”
I shoved him playfully. “Shut up!”
Thane gave a bark of attractive laughter, winked, and set his coffee cup down in the sink. “There are snack packs of fruit in the fridge. Grapes for Lewis, raspberries for Eilidh. Stick those in. Fruit juice packs are in the pantry. I’m going up to wake them before I leave.”
As he took the stairs two at a time, I tried to ignore the uncontrollable butterflies in my belly.
“Oh, hell,” I muttered under my breath, hanging my head in despair.