No. 14 Own a claw-foot bath #3
“Eli was already living with us by this point and the three of us were kind of inseparable, I found it hard when she moved away.” He looks at me then; a vulnerability I’ve not seen from him before brightening his amber eyes. “I don’t like people leaving.”
I feel like he’s pleading with me, which is why I give him my soft reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He nods again. “Anyway, when she came back, Eli and I were sharing a room again and he snores like a fucking motorcycle.”
I bark out a laugh, and he grins at me.
“So, I was usually awake when she got up with Connor in the middle of the night. I used to sit with her while she fed him and then I’d burp him while she rested.
It was nice. And I’ve always felt like Con was a little bit mine too, you know?
Like I had a responsibility to help him grow and make sure he doesn’t end up a total screw up. ”
“He won’t,” I say easily because that kid is pretty great. I’ve definitely witnessed his cheek and a lot of audacity, but I haven’t seen the delinquent side his family seem so concerned about. “Why was Eli living with you?” I ask, trying to remember if he’d told me that before.
“When his parents died, he only had an aunt somewhere up north and he didn’t know her. My parents spoke to her and with social services and it was agreed Eli could stay with us, so he got to stay in the village he’d grown up in, stay at the same school, and stay with friends.”
“That’s pretty incredible of your parents, taking on another kid like that.”
He shrugs. “It’s the kind of people they are. It’s the kind of place Port Doone is. We look out for our own.”
“I love that,” I say tiredly, my body shivering under the cooling water.
August slaps his thighs and stands. “Come on, sunshine. Time to get out.”
He holds out his hand for me, and I rise from the bath, his eyes track the water as it drips down the curves of my body, and I watch his throat work over a swallow.
The prickly heat of his gaze warms my cold skin and as our eyes lock, something so much warmer than lust passes between us.
I step out and he takes a towel from the heater, holding it out and wrapping me up.
“Would you like something to wear?” he asks against my ear from where he crowds me from behind.
“Yes, please,” I turn my head and kiss his jaw gently.
With a kiss to my crown, he leads me back to his room and makes me sit on the bed while he goes to his dresser and pulls out a sweatshirt, handing it to me.
“I, uh.” He pulls on the back of his neck.
“Any bottoms I have would just fall off you, are you happy in your leggings or do you want me to run to yours and get something for you to wear?”
God, he’s cute. “I’m fine,” I tell him, and he gives a serious nod.
“Okay, I’ll go cook the pasta and you’ll come down when you’re ready?”
“Sure,” I say feeling seven kinds of relaxed and happy.
That happy feeling stays with me throughout dinner of spaghetti bolognese, August and I chat and laugh.
“Who’s that?” I ask, pointing to a picture of an older lady hung on the wall for her to look over the kitchen.
“That’s Aunt Jemma,” he says, looking up at the glamorous woman with sparkling brown eyes and dark brown hair that must be dyed, given her approximate age.
“This was her house, she left it to Joanie and me when she died. Joanie already owned her place and didn’t want to move into something bigger because she can’t keep her tiny bungalow tidy as it is.
” I laugh a little, digging into my pasta.
“Darcy was hers too, got him as a puppy and then died when he was only two.” I pout sadly and look at the snoozing dog in the corner.
“So he became mine along with the house.”
“Were you guys close?”
He nods. “She was great. We spent a lot of time here growing up. She would cook a lot, loved the kitchen. Sunday dinner was always here, even when she was too frail to do it herself, we’d come and cook in here.”
I smile up at the picture and notice the rock on her hand, rather prominent in the portrait. “That’s a Turner Jewel,” I say, pointing my fork at the picture. It’s a beautiful yellow diamond surrounded by white ones, set in a platinum band, the design typical of my grandfather’s legacy.
August nods but doesn’t say anything more, looking at his bowl as he pushes pasta around. I feel like I might have said something wrong and I’m trying to find a way to back track, but he looks up at me with a warm smile. “You want some wine?”
He has a bottle of malbec he opens, and we drink with our meal.
The house is warm and cosy, the dishes are done within moments, and when he takes me to bed, we cuddle without it leading to anything more.
His hands touch my skin under the t-shirt he gave me to sleep in, his lips kiss sweetly at the back of my neck as he spoons me, and his words are soft.
He praises me for coming to him when I needed him, thanks me for staying, and tells me he cares about me.
My heart is so full by the time my eyes drift closed, I know, without doubt, I’ve fallen in love with August.