Chapter 13
Four months ago
Alexandria
Ash Riley
Ipopped the tailgate to grab today’s loot from Home Depot but stopped when I felt Nate’s response vibrate in my pocket. Or I assumed it was him.
I checked my phone.
So because Micah and Lily fall asleep early, you won’t celebrate New Year’s with us?
That’s not what I fucking said. Christ. I only meant that because they fell asleep at like nine, there was no use in me sticking around until midnight.
I typed my reply.
I’ll obviously be there for dinner, but I don’t see the point in staying once they’re asleep.
Hallie’s gonna spend the night gaming in her room, and Dylan will wander between his laptop, his phone, and the fridge.
We’ll do our usual steak dinner, and I’ll pick up sparklers for the kids tomorrow.
Do we have the ingredients for the dessert?
In other words, send me a damn grocery list. If I was going to suffer through most of New Year’s with the husband I wasn’t allowed to kiss, I was getting my fucking steak and dessert.
It was the last year we’d be maintaining that tradition. Mixed berry cheesecake served in layers in a wineglass. ’Cause we were fancy like that.
“Howdy, boss!”
I looked up and spotted James coming down his porch steps and zipping up his jacket.
“Well, hey. How was your cruise?” I asked.
I’d learned he and his husband always went on a short cruise between Christmas and New Year’s, and I couldn’t lie. I missed traveling. Nate and I had gone on a few cruises together. We’d only brought the kids once, because it was ridiculously expensive with six people.
All hope wasn’t lost, though. Theo and I were killing it at work. Our business was growing, we never ran out of contracts—except for in January and February; they were slow months—and my next raise was on the horizon already. I might be able to afford a nice vacation with the kids this year.
I needed new traditions in my life. Maybe I’d find a budget-friendly family resort in the Caribbean.
James headed toward me, crossing the snow-covered lawns of our front yards. “It was nice. I even got Jordan to relax. This time of year, he’s wired for Fashion Week in New York.”
Oh. Yeah, I could not relate.
When James had told me his husband was a makeup artist and worked in TV, I’d pictured him applying foundation to anchors on the news.
“And when am I getting to meet this mystery guy?” I wondered. Because so far, no sign of him.
James chuckled. “We got in late last night, but he’ll probably be up soon.” He reached my truck and nodded at the supplies. “Need a hand?”
“Sure. Thanks. Everything’s going into the hallway,” I replied.
“What’s on the remodel agenda? You finished your bedroom, right?”
“Yeah, it’s the one thing that’s done. Next up is demolition of the kitchen and one of the kids’ rooms.”
Demolition was a strong word. I was removing all the cupboard doors so I could polish them and give them a new coat of paint. But the marble on the kitchen island was getting chucked.
In the end, where the kids’ rooms were concerned, I had made the choice of who was getting which room.
Because the more I’d thought about it, the more I’d envisioned the fights and bickering.
Dylan was getting the smallest room, only because in a year or two, he’d be old enough for his own space above the garage.
In addition, having his own little studio apartment might prompt him to pick a college close to home.
Lily and Micah would get the two rooms that were a little larger, and Hallie would get the main bedroom with the ensuite bath. But she would have to share that bathroom with her sister.
James and I made quick work of bringing everything inside. Wall paint, rollers, samples for flooring, tools, brushes—the list went on.
It felt good having something to work on over the holidays.
It’d also given me back my appetite, and I was dealing with multiple hankerings every day now.
Today, I didn’t have to go over to the old house either, ’cause the kids were with Nate’s parents, so I could decide for myself what to get for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
“What’s the best pizza place around?” I asked.
“Hmm. I’m a sucker for Paisano’s on the other side of the park,” he answered. “They make fantastic stromboli too. Jordan prefers Domino’s and Pizza Hut. They’re close.”
Paisano’s was great. I might get that for dinner.
“If you’re in the mood for pizza, you should have dinner with us tonight,” James said. “Unless you’re heading over to your family.”
“I’ll be here all day.”
“All right, well, Jordan’s making his pizza monkey bread. I know it sounds childish, but it’s fucking incredible.”
I lifted my brows at him. “I never turn down monkey bread. Sign me up.” My ma used to make the regular kind when I was a kid, but I’d heard of savory versions as well.
“James! Have you left me?!” The distant shout ended our conversation, and I smirked at James. Was I about to meet the husband?
James shook his head in amusement and stepped out on the porch. “Don’t you think I would’ve left you for someone whose house you can’t find in two seconds, sugar?”
They had banter. I liked that.
I honestly didn’t know what to expect now, though.
From the few stories James had shared, I knew Jordan was a makeup artist, apparently into fashion, he was headstrong and driven, and he could draw.
And I knew the latter because I’d seen the ink on James’s rib cage once when his T-shirt had ridden up.
A big, uh…one of those designs, uh…mandala?
Pretty sure they were called mandalas anyway.
Jordan had drawn it, and James had turned it into a tattoo.
On that note, James’s body was worth admiring without the ink too. He was a little shorter than me and had less bulk, but he wasn’t far off. He took care of himself, and it showed.
Didn’t hurt that he had stunning green eyes and a charming grin.
“That’s what you’re wearin’ when you meet my boss?” James asked.
Well, now I was too curious. I left the buckets of paint behind and joined him on the porch—and it was fucking worth it.
What the hell? I couldn’t help but smile.
First of all, that guy was a lot younger than James.
Second of all, he was wearing a fluffy-looking onesie-style pajama suit, and the hood had teddy bear ears.
“Are those my boots?” James chuckled.
“They were so easy to just stick my feet into,” Jordan replied.
He reached my front yard, and the closer he got, the more I could see.
Fuck me, he was adorable.
Big blue eyes, a dimpled grin, and fucking freckles. But he didn’t look like a ginger. His hair that poked out from under the hood was so dark it was almost black.
“Buddy, you didn’t mention you were a cradle-robber,” I told James.
He cracked up. “He loves hearin’ that.”
Judging by the scowl on Jordan’s face, he did, in fact, not. “Excuse you, sir. I’m almost twenty-seven.”
All right. And about what, five-three, five-four?
I wouldn’t have guessed a day over twenty.
“He’s hotter than you described, honey.” Jordan strode forward and extended his hand. “Hello, Ash. Nice to finally meet you.”
I smirked and shook his hand. “You too, Jordan.” I tilted my head at James. “Is he a flirt with everyone? I’m tryna decide if I’m flattered or just one in the crowd.”
James chuckled under his breath and stuck his hands down the pockets of his jeans. “You can be flattered.”
Okay, then. Just what I wanted to hear. Actually, I also wanted to hear how James had described me.
“Have you eaten?” Jordan asked.
“Not yet,” James said. “I thought we could do brunch once you woke up. What’re you in the mood for?”
“Ummmmm…” Jordan tapped his chin. “I want like, a breakfast sammich with bacon and eggs and cheese and spinach and tomaters.”
Sammich? Tomaters?
Who was this guy?
“Okay, I’ll go pick up food,” James chuckled. “One for you too?” He turned to me.
Uh. “Sure, why not. I like ham and cheese with tomatoes and that French mustard.”
“Tomaters,” Jordan corrected. “That’s how James’s dad pronounces it in the Deep South.”
“Does he say sammich too?” I smirked.
He lit up. “No, that’s a Jordan original. And I guess all the kids who say it too.”
Okay, he was a little too appealing for my tastes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was a Little.
“I’ll be back in a bit. You two can get to know each other,” James said.
Wait, he was leaving his little hubby here?
“Excellent! I have some questions for you, Ash.” Jordan strode straight into my house and removed the hood of his teddy bear suit.
James was already heading off, so I guessed I was babysitting now?
I went back inside and closed the door, figuring I could start in the kitchen. “Can I get you something to drink? I have Coke, coffee, and water.”
“Coke, please! And thank you.” He followed me into the kitchen. “Have you decided what to do with the kitchen yet?”
“Kind of. I wanna replace the cracked marble with an oak top—same with the other counters. Then repaint the cupboards. I’m thinking a moss green or muted blue.”
I’d brought home samples of walnut and maple too.
“That sounds gorgeous. And the floor?”
“Something to match the countertops.” I handed him a Coke from the fridge. Then I busied myself making more coffee. “James tells me you work in TV but like fashion…?”
He scrunched his nose and leaned against the island. “I love my man, but he’s shit at describing stuff sometimes. I don’t particularly like fashion, but my sister is a designer, and I’m head of makeup for her shows. Otherwise, I mostly do makeup for commercials and events.”
I was evidently full of prejudice, because he didn’t strike me as a makeup artist. I mean, I wasn’t new in the world. I’d had my fair share of twinks run after me in my day, and that was usually the type I’d expect to have such a profession.
Nate would call me a dick, but whatever.
“I have a bit of insight into the makeup world too,” I said. “I just agreed to let my eldest daughter wear it.”