Chapter 5 #2
We climb the three steps to the wraparound porch, complete with a swing and a pair of Adirondack chairs Asher built for me. She pushes the swing into motion when she passes it. Warmth fills my chest as I imagine her sitting here, watching the sun set, round with my child.
“We can sit out here tomorrow if you’d like.” Then I pull open the front door. One thing we don’t do is lock the doors when we’re not home. The entire area is under constant surveillance. We need easy access to each other’s cabins when they’re empty.
“Really? I’d love that. I mean, if there’s time before I leave.” Jaclyn glances up at me and tucks loose strands of hair behind her ear.
She’s fishing for answers I’m not prepared to give her yet. “There’ll be plenty of time.”
Her shoulders tighten as if she’s getting ready to fight, but then they relax when she steps inside.
“Wow,” she whispers, probably not expecting me to hear her.
I look around the open-concept space, trying to see it through her eyes.
It’s mostly one large room, with the kitchen island the only separation.
I don’t have a dining table; there’s no need.
Mostly, I eat at the homestead. When I’m here, the desk or island works for me.
There’s a large tan leather sofa with the crocheted blanket my mother made draped over the back. It was one of the few personal things of hers I salvaged from the fire.
Two side chairs in the same tan leather sit on either side of the couch, facing the stone fireplace.
A large, wide-screen television hangs above the fireplace.
It’s the same setup at my brothers’ cabins.
Unlike their addiction to sports and their wives’ shows, I rarely watch anything other than the security feeds.
For once, I’m glad I shut it all off before I left this morning.
I’m not sure how Jaclyn would feel walking in here to see the surveillance we have on the mountain and around our homes.
“You keep surprising me, Mr. Gallant,” she says.
“Andrew or Daddy,” I comment, and her eyebrows try to crawl up her forehead.
“Umm, what?”
The shock on her face is precious. I was looking forward to this moment throughout dinner. She knows something is different about the relationships my brothers have with their wives, but she was polite enough not to ask—or maybe just scared enough not to want the answer.
“You heard me. I’m not Mr. Gallant. You can call me Andrew for now, but I’d prefer Daddy.”
She blows out a breath and shakes her head, like she’s trying to rationalize what she heard.
“I’m not calling you Daddy,” she huffs out finally.
“We’ll see.” I smirk. She gasps and takes a step further away from me.
For now, I’ll let her believe she has any say in our future, but not for long.
“As for being different, you mentioned that earlier. What’s so surprising?
Did you think we lived like animals up here?
Look like lumberjacks or wild mountain men, instead of businessmen?
” I’m genuinely curious how she’ll answer.
I’m sure there is a ton of gossip about the mysterious Gallant brothers who ditched their cushy California lives and moved to the wilderness.
“No, umm, maybe? Not exactly wild, but not business casual, either.” As she answers, her gaze travels from my Italian black leather shoes, over my bespoke dress slacks and white button-down shirt.
Jaclyn isn’t the first one to be surprised.
Most people assume things that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Since I spend most of my time at my desk, I’m always prepared for impromptu meetings with investors or the board of directors—I run a multi-billion-dollar company.
I dress not to impress, but so everyone knows who they are dealing with, not some backwoods mountain man who doesn’t know shit.
Of course, when I’m away from work, I wear a tee or flannel shirt, depending on the temperature, jeans, and hiking boots.
Clothes meant for the work we do around the mountain: gardening, building the structures we still need, hunting, fishing, and clearing areas as necessary.
The fewer people we have up here, the better.
Keeping our family safe is our number one priority.
Shrugging, I study her before answering.
She’s mine. I knew it as soon as I touched her hand on the driveway.
I don’t know if I can trust her yet, so I’m cautious with my answer.
“We dress for what we’re doing. It’s something my parents instilled in us long ago.
My dad dressed for work every day, and my mom, too. Some habits die hard.”
“I suppose; I wouldn’t really know. There isn’t anything my mom showed me that I’d want to replicate.
She wasn’t like your parents. She was an addict; drugs ended her life,” she replies and tucks a few loose strands of her dark-brown hair behind her ear.
Then turns to check out more of the space, whether to avoid my gaze or settle herself, I’m not sure.
Jaclyn Tanner is stronger than she looks at first glance. My demanding to be called Daddy was barely a blip on her radar. Although I’d wager a week’s salary that she’ll be freaking out after she’s in bed—my bed, but she doesn’t know that yet, either.
Spinning to face me again, she says, “So…I’m guessing the bedrooms are down that hallway.”
“Bedroom,” I reply, stressing the single word.
She’s not listening at first. As her cheeks bloom with color, she says, “Which one is mine? Wait. Did you say one bedroom?”
“Yes, I did, Sweetpea. There’s only one furnished bedroom; the other doors lead to my office, a bathroom, and the spare, but it’s empty.”
“Where am I supposed to sleep, then? How about you let me go back to the main house? That couch is huge. I’ll be fine sleeping there.”
“No. You’ll sleep in my bed—” she cuts me off before I can finish.
“I’m not sleeping with my boss!” Her voice rises until it’s almost a squeak, and her shoulders tense until they’re next to her ears. “No way.”
I want to tell her she is, but it’s too soon. No matter how much I need to hold her in my arms as she falls asleep rides me. “I’ll take the couch out here. There’s plenty of room.”
Some of her tension eases with my words. “It’s your home, though. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I can’t tell her that the thought of her sleeping between my sheets, in my bed, breathing in my scent, is a visceral need. At least my scent will wrap around her all night if I can’t hold her.
“It is my home. I make the rules. You’ll sleep in my room.
I’ve slept in worse places than my couch; this is nothing.
C’mon, let’s get you settled for the night.
I know you’ve got to be exhausted. We’ll talk more in the morning.
” As ominous as it sounds, I need to make sure she knows that there is still quite a bit to discuss tomorrow.
Folding my arms across my chest, I wait to see what she’ll do or say next.
Emotions fly across her face faster than I can track. She’s trying to decide whether it’s worth fighting me on this. My little bit is going to be a handful, and I couldn’t be happier.
“I’m not going to win this one, am I?” she finally asks with a huff.
“Nope. You may win a few in the future, but don’t count on it.” I’m proud of her for picking her battles. Growing up in foster care, I’m sure she had to fight for everything. She must have learned long ago which were the most important to win.
“Fine. I’m too tired to argue. But tomorrow, Andrew, we’ll talk about when I’m going home.”
Grinning at how she says my name, I nod. She can believe whatever she wants if it helps her sleep.