Chapter 11 #2
“No. I feel like it’s time I settle down.
I’m thirty-one, you know? I’ve sown my oats.
Once I get my business going and move out of Dad’s house, I’ll be like two-thirds of the way to respectable adulthood.
I just need a wife and a couple of kids to complete the picture.
But not like you did it,” he said, taking a swig from his beer.
“Not two at once. That’s too much work.”
“Dude, the longest relationship you’ve ever had was like four weeks.”
“I was married to the U.S. Navy,” he said defensively. “I was serving my country—and I was good at it, until I got injured. I think I’ll be a fucking great husband.”
“You do?”
He grinned and spread his arms. “I’m great at everything else, aren’t I?”
Ignoring him, I turned around and got back to work.
“You know what? I’m so confident you and the nanny are going to bang that I’ll place a bet on it.”
Xander was always looking for a way to win, especially if it meant I lost. “What kind of bet?”
“The bar I want you to make. If you keep your hands to yourselves for two more weeks, I’ll quit bugging you about it. If you can’t, you owe me some reclaimed wood.”
“Deal,” I said. All it would take to win this bet and get Xander off my ass was mental fortitude. That, I had.
I hoped.
I put up with Xander for another couple hours, then kicked him out and went into the house to put the kids to bed.
Veronica had already seen to it that the leftovers were put away and their chore charts marked off, and she said goodnight to the twins and promised to teach them some tap dance steps tomorrow.
“Tap dance, huh?” I said.
“Yes. Roni said we can make our own tap shoes!” Adelaide said excitedly.
I looked at Veronica. “You can?”
“Sure.” She grinned and tucked one of those curls behind her ear. “We just need some sneakers, packing tape, and spare change.”
“I think we can manage that,” I said, impressed by her ingenuity.
“I thought it might be a fun project since it’s supposed to rain all day again tomorrow.” She laughed and struck a pose with jazz hands. “Then we can put on a show for you tomorrow night!”
“Yay!” The twins clapped their hands and jumped up and down.
“Sounds like fun. Okay, you guys, head upstairs.” I nudged them both out of the kitchen, and they went dancing toward the front of the house. Then I turned toward Veronica. “You do know you have tomorrow off, right?”
She loaded a dinner plate in the dishwasher. “I know.”
“And that you had tonight off as well? You don’t need to clean up the kitchen.”
“I don’t mind.” She shut the dishwasher door and turned around, leaning back against the sink with her palms draped over the edge. “And it’s not like I have anything better to do tonight. Just laundry.”
“As long as you know I don’t expect you to work on your days off.”
“I know.” Her blue eyes stayed on mine for a moment, then drifted over my T-shirt, which was coated in sawdust and damp with rain and sweat.
She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes traveled lower, to the crotch of my jeans.
I thought about what Xander said—she looks at you—and the back of my neck grew warm.
I glanced at the fridge and thought about a dirty chore chart for her and everything I’d put on it. Give me a handjob. Sit on my face. Suck my dick.
My cock twitched.
I was a bad person.
“Well, goodnight,” I said, desperate to exit the room and her line of sight.
“Night,” she said softly as I left the room.
Halfway up the steps, I paused and closed my eyes, my hand gripping the banister, my pulse beating a little too fast.
What was the bet I’d made with Xander? Two weeks?
I had a sinking feeling I might lose.
After putting the kids to bed, I went out to the garage to put away the tools I’d left out—I never left it messy at night. The rain had stopped again, but it was hot and humid, and I was anxious to get everything in order and grab a cold shower.
I needed one. A cold beer sounded good too.
The lights in the apartment above the garage were off, and I assumed Veronica had already gone to bed, so it surprised me when I heard the back door to the house close. I looked up and saw her walking toward the garage, carrying a laundry basket on one hip. She gave me a wave.
I lifted a hand, and before I could stop myself, I held up the beer I’d just opened. “Want one?”
She hesitated, glancing back at the house.
“It’s okay. They’re fine. I actually still have the baby monitor in here for nights when I want to work late.”
“Oh. Okay, then.” She entered the garage and I glanced at her bare feet.
“You should probably put shoes on though. I haven’t swept in a few days, and I don’t want you to get a splinter or step on a nail or anything.”
“My shoes are upstairs.” She looked at the laundry basket. “I was just going up to fold my laundry.”
“You can fold down here if you want.” I gestured toward a work table. “I can put a clean drop cloth on this.”
“Oh. Okay.” She set her laundry basket on the floor. “Then I’ll be right back.”
I watched her leave the garage on her tiptoes, being careful where she stepped, and heard her going up the stairs.
After she was gone, I threw a clean cloth over the work table, then placed her laundry basket on top of it.
I couldn’t resist peering into the jumble of clothing—on top were her whites and I saw bits of lace and satin that made my blood rush faster.
When I heard her feet on the stairs again, I backed away so I wouldn’t be caught looking at her panties like a creeper. I went over to the fridge and grabbed her a beer.
She appeared in a pair of flip flops. “Safe to enter?”
“Safe to enter.” I handed her the bottle. “Here you go.”
She clinked hers to mine. “Cheers.”
I watched her bring the bottle to her lips and saw her throat work as she swallowed. Damn, it was hot in here.
“Thank you,” she said, noticing the cloth over the table where I’d placed her laundry basket. She took another sip, set her beer down, and began to pull items out and fold them. “So did you get a lot done today?”
“Yeah.” I leaned back against my workbench and tried not to notice what each piece was as she folded—bras, panties, little tank tops, the white T-shirt she’d worn the night we kissed. “Thanks again for working the extra hours. I’ll pay you for them.”
She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“So how did your first two weeks go as a nanny?”
“Great. The kids are so fun. And this town is delightful.” She scrunched up her face. “Sorry about the food. I’ll work on it.”
“It’s okay.”
“I’ve worked in a bunch of bars and restaurants, but I just never learned to cook. And my mom never taught me.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “I think it was also a rebellion against her mother, who pretty much lived in the kitchen. Very traditional beliefs about where a woman belonged and all that. They never got along.”
I tipped up my beer. It was easy to remain silent around her—the woman was a talker.
“They were just so different, you know? My grandmother was totally subservient and submissive to my grandfather. My mother was independent and feisty. Always bucking the rules.” She folded a pair of shorts in half.
“And I was her daughter through and through. Which is why I cannot believe I let Neil do what he did.”
I took another couple of cold swallows.
“God, I miss her.” She was quiet a moment, staring at the clothing in the basket. “What was your mom like?”
“She was tough. She had to be, with four rowdy sons. She was so determined to teach us good manners and we were like a pack of wild animals, always wanting to tear each other apart.” I laughed.
“Sometimes she used to just give up, set a timer, and let Xander and I fight in the backyard for three minutes.”
Veronica smiled. “Like a boxing round?”
“Exactly.”
“So who’d win?”
I gave her a dirty look. “Me, of course.”
Her grin widened. “Of course.”
“Then she’d have to listen to us howl in pain while she cleaned us up, and she’d tell us it was our own damn faults and we’d never learn.”
She folded a pair of shorts. “I feel like she was on to something there.”
“But she was funny and outgoing and always saw the good in everyone.”
“What did she look like?”
“A lot like Mabel. Dark hair. Blue eyes. A loud laugh, a big smile.” The rain started up again, drumming on the garage roof.
Veronica smiled and picked up her beer. “Did she and your dad get along?”
I nodded. “They always claimed it was love at first sight. On their first date, he told her he was going to marry her. And he did. Six months later.”
“Really?” Her eyes widened. “That’s incredible.”
“Or crazy.”
“And he never dated again? I mean, after she was gone?”
“Nope.” I could hear his voice in my head. “He always said, ‘It only happens once.’”
Nodding slowly, Veronica placed her folded clothing into neat piles inside the basket, then hitched herself up on the edge of the table so she sat right across from me. “What about you? Have you ever been in love?”
“Nah.” I scraped at the label of the bottle with my thumbnail. “I had a few girlfriends before the twins were born. But never anything serious.”
“Are you one of those guys who doesn’t do feelings?”
I frowned at her. “You sound like my sister. It’s not that I ‘don’t do feelings.’ I have plenty of them. I just think certain emotions are kind of pointless. What a person does is more important than how they feel.”
She held her ankles together and stared at her feet. “Actually, I’ve never been in love either.”
“Not even with your ex?”
“No.” Cheeks coloring, she shook her head. “And he wasn’t in love with me. We had no business getting married.”
“Good thing you didn’t.”
She sipped her beer. “Did you think about marrying the twins’ mom?”
I shook my head. “The first thing she said to me after ‘I’m pregnant’ was ‘I’ll have the baby, but I’m not going to keep it.’ So there was no reason to consider it.”
“And since then you’ve been single?”
“Since then, I’ve been single. I like my independence.”
“You don’t get lonely?”
“Never,” I lied.
She nodded. “I like my independence too, but I do think it’s nice to share things with someone. One of the reasons I loved being a Rockette was because we were like a family. I never should have let Neil talk me into quitting.”
“Why did he want you to quit?”
“He didn’t think it was a suitable job for a Vanderhoof wife.” She made air quotes and wrinkled her nose. “It was probably something his mother said.”
I grunted. “Every time I hear something about that guy, I despise him a little more.”
She grinned. “It’s too bad you weren’t at the wedding. You’d have enjoyed the show.”
“I can picture it pretty vividly. I’ve heard the story enough times.”
“From the kids?”
I shrugged. “It’s a small town.”
Her jaw fell open. “You mean people are talking about me?”
“Of course they are.” Amused, I folded my arms across my chest. “I’m surprised the Harbor Gazette hasn’t called you for an interview yet.”
“Oh no!” She slapped a hand to her forehead. “That is so embarrassing.”
“Why? You put an asshole in his place. He can’t just go around treating people like shit and expect no one to mind.”
“I know, but . . .” Her cheeks grew even more pink. “I just don’t want that to be people’s first impression of me. I’m a friendly person. I have nice manners. I’m a good girl.”
“Are you?” The question slipped out.
Her hand slowly fell to her lap.
I don’t know what made me do what I did next—maybe it was all the talk about her ex that got me worked up. Maybe it was the way she was blushing.
Hell, maybe it was the crop top.
I pushed off the workbench in no hurry, crossing the three feet of space between us until I stood in front of where she sat on the edge of the table.
She opened her knees, and I took a step closer.
Her thighs now straddled mine. I touched her lips with my thumb, tugging the lower one down slightly.
I felt the barest caress of her tongue as her eyes held mine captive.
Her skirt had a slit that exposed one knee, and I took my hand from her mouth and placed it on the top of her thigh. Slowly, I slid it up her leg until my thumb and fingers bracketed her hip. I squeezed gently.
She inhaled sharply.
With my other hand, I touched one of those curls that fell around her face. It felt like silk between my callused fingers. She turned her cheek into my palm and rubbed the heel of my hand with her chin. I closed my eyes, my entire body tense with restraint.
“It’s okay,” she whispered.
“It’s not,” I said between my teeth.
And when I still couldn’t bring myself to move, she kissed my palm, then the inside of my wrist, then my jaw. When I opened my eyes, I saw her lean back on her elbows, her top riding up to expose a strip of skin on her belly.
Unable to resist, I lowered my mouth to her abdomen.
Her muscles trembled. Slowly, I kissed a path across the ribbon of soft, warm skin.
Then I rested my forehead on her stomach, breathing in her scent, wanting her, aching to untie the top, put a hand up her skirt, claim her mouth with mine.
My desire for her had the strength of a nuclear bomb.
“Daddy?” I bolted upright and looked at the open garage door, expecting to see Owen standing there with a confused look on his face. But no one was there.
“It’s the monitor.” Veronica was still breathing hard, her chest rising and falling quickly.
Heart pounding, I hurried out of the garage into the rain.
I was surprised it didn’t sizzle on my skin.