Chapter 5 Ledger
FIVE
LEDGER
My dissertation was suffering, and it was Theron's fault.
Not that he’d wiped the files on my computer or trashed my handwritten notes. He hadn’t set out to sabotage my studies. But he existed, and he was doing that in this house, and that made concentration impossible.
Today was a weekday, so the kids were at school. The last load of laundry was in the dryer, and Theron was in his office for the entire day, he’d told me as he carried a whole roast chicken out the door.
As I was waiting for the dryer cycle to finish, I needed a content stream of coffee, and as there was no one around to disrupt me, spread my papers on the enormous dining room table.
The room had a dark, formal set-up with heavy drapes and old-style furniture which was very different to the rest of the house.
But I stared out the window, wondering what my boss was doing in his office and thinking about his biceps.
Not that he usually revealed them in the house, but I’d caught him coming in from a run yesterday, and as expected, he’d been disheveled.
But weirdly, I was almost certain he’d left the house in a T-shirt, but when he returned, he was wearing a tank top, and I observed a burn mark on the top of his shoulder.
He must have showered and changed in his office.
I’d written half a sentence, and I was leaning against the sink, waiting for the coffee maker to produce the best coffee I’d ever had, when the kitchen door opened. I’d been so lost in thought, I jumped, knocking a cup off the dish drainer and squealing.
“Ledger, what happened?” Theron was inside and cupping my elbow before I’d taken a breath.
Him appearing so suddenly made me yell again. His head darted around, and that faint smoky aroma became stronger.
“You.” The cogs in my brain were whirring, but not in a “let’s work this out” mode.
Bells were ringing, and brain parts were moving in the opposite direction to what they were supposed to.
His cologne or body wash—I wanted to know who made that stuff that smelled of burning—that clung to him, surrounded me, and us being skin to skin made my legs jelly.
“Me what?”
I gulped and tried to speak, but nothing came out. He grabbed me with both hands as I gasped, maybe thinking I was choking. Would he do the Heimlich maneuver, or better, mouth to mouth?
“You scared me.”
His face contorted as if I’d told him he smelled bad. “I’m sorry.” He released his grip on me. “I came in for coffee because, ummm, yeah, ummm.” He glanced at the coffee maker. “Right, because the machine in my office isn’t working.”
The machine stopped whirring, and I took my cup. “All yours.” Again there was a strange look on his face. “The coffee maker.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
What did he think I was talking about? I forced myself to walk away, though my legs were wobbly, and I gripped the island, the kitchen table, and the counter near the door.
While I didn’t have eyes in the back of my head, I sensed his gaze on me, and I shivered in spite of the heat.
There were those pesky goosebumps again.
After collapsing into my chair in the dining room, I listened for the back door to close. The strong aroma of fresh coffee drifted through the open doorway, but unless my boss went out much quieter than he came in, he was still in the house.
“Knock, knock.”
The coffee sloshed from the cup onto my notepad, and I wiped it with my shirt.
“Yeah?” I brought the cup to my lips because I needed something to hide behind.
He came in with his coffee in one hand and a slice of cake in the other. I’d never seen cake in the house, so had he whipped it up when I was asleep? Perhaps he had an oven in that office of his.
“I come in peace.” He held up the plate. “That’s p-i-e-c-e, as in I’m making a joke.”
Damn! Coffee spurted from my mouth onto the same notepad.
“Oh, shoot.” He whipped off his shirt at such a speed, my vision blurred. But once I focused on his chest, my mouth gaped. Holy shit, he was ripped, and after he mopped up the coffee with his shirt and left the room, I noted that burn mark again.
When Theron returned, I hadn’t moved.
“Did I destroy anything that can’t be replicated?”
I shook my head, not knowing if I still had the ability to speak.
“No, it was doodles. I was having a hard time concentrating.”
“Was that my fault?”
Why yes, it was. Your abs and pecs and your smile were responsible for discombobulating my brain.
“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”
“What are you working on?”
“My dissertation.”
It was obvious what I was doing. I didn’t want to elaborate and say it was focusing on communication, because he might think I was studying him or his kids, and I definitely wasn’t.
“Thank you for being so good with my children.”
It was my job to care for them and be kind. I really liked Rory, Fraser, and Skye, and I was in danger of falling in love with them. I didn’t include their father on that list because I couldn’t. That would lead to me losing my job.
“They’re great kids.”
“Well, thank you again, Ledger.”
Oh my gods, why did he have to say my name? My pulse sped up, and I was glad I was sitting because the room was spinning.
“I should get back to work.”
“Me too.”
After he left, I stared at the same paragraph for twenty minutes.
That evening I cooked dinner for the first time. Theron usually handled the main meal, but he'd been on calls all afternoon, and I texted him that I'd take care of it.
I made pasta with a marinara sauce. I was no chef, but that was simple enough that I could produce an edible meal without embarrassing myself.
The kids needed protein, so there was plenty of chicken in the sauce, and I made sure it was cooked properly, because unlike their father, I didn't serve meat that was clucking and pecking in the dirt.
Fraser studied his plate. "There's green things."
"That's basil. It's good for you."
He gave me an “I don’t believe you” look.
Skye ate what I put in front of her. Rory picked out the basil and made a pile on the side of his plate but ate everything else. Fraser took one bite of chicken, and a second, and when Theron came in from his office, Fraser was on his second helping.
“I saved you a plate.” I pointed to the place I’d set for him.
Theron sat and ate with us, and I could almost imagine we were a family. Fraser was talking about his best friend, and Skye was rolling her eyes because she said she was tired of hearing about his friend. Rory was telling me about a project at school that involved building a volcano.
Maybe that was the smoke I saw at the school, though I couldn’t imagine building a volcano on school grounds that would satisfy safety requirements. Rory had to be talking about the kind we’d made at school with baking soda and vinegar.
After we had finished eating, the children helped load the dishwasher. I told them it was bath time, and Fraser asked if instead of getting in the tub, he could get washed inside the dishwasher.
“Would I come out squeaky clean?”
“You’d die.” Rory made a face at his brother.
“Like Papa.” Skye wasn’t upset. It was a matter-of-fact statement. She had no memory of her omega father.
“A human made Papa dead.” Rory slapped a hand over his mouth, and everyone stared at me.
Was I supposed to say something? And what word did Rory intend to use but had substituted human instead?
“Sometimes bad things happen.” Theron put a hand on Rory’s shoulder. “But Papa would be so proud of all of you.”
That was my signal to hustle everyone upstairs, and when the children were in bed, I called Jess, the friend who'd recommended the agency. He'd been cagey about them and insisted I sign whatever they put in front of me without asking questions.
“How's it going?” he asked.
“Good. The kids are great.”
“And the dad?”
I must have paused, though I didn’t mean to.
“Oh no.” Jess was laughing. “Ledge.”
“It's nothing.”
“You paused just like you used to when we talked about that college professor in our junior year. Please tell me you haven’t fallen for him.”
“Shush.” I rushed to the door of my suite and closed it, not that Theron could hear what my friend was saying on the third floor.
“Oh, sorry. I forgot the guy has super-sensitive hearing.”
“Huh?” How would he know that? “What are you talking about?”
Now Jess paused. “Ummm, I’ve heard that he was, ummm, Meara must have said something. Now what was the name of that professor you lusted after?”
“It was unrequited lust, as you well know.”
“Right.”
Theron was my boss, and I told Jess he was wrong. He said I was a terrible liar, and we hung up. I flung myself on the bed and thought of Theron, who could be in his bedroom by now. If I pressed my ear to the floor I might hear him.
Jess might be right, and if so, I was in trouble.