Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
LUCA
A tinkling pulled at the edge of Luca’s consciousness.
What is that sound?
It sounded like noise in a diner, the clinking of cutlery. He sat bolt upright when he saw the morning sun streaming in through his curtains.
He grabbed for his phone and a pair of pants. Shit, shit, shit.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He’d fallen asleep at 3:00 AM last night, putting in extra time in his home garage on a special part for Pearl’s Airstream.
It was already seven in the morning. We’ll be late again, he thought groggily.
He tugged on his pants as he walked, stumbling to get them on. He pushed into Annabelle’s room. No Annabelle.
Her covers were pulled back, and panic shocked through him, finally waking him up.
It was then he noticed the smell coming from the kitchen.
Right. Shit. Olivia was here. He walked slowly down the steps, wanting to observe how it was going without AB seeing him. He crouched on the stairs, peering into the kitchen through the living room.
The scent wafting to him smelled great, but the scene in front of him?
It looked even better.
Olivia was french-braiding Annabelle’s hair, a heaping stack of pancakes on a plate beside them. His gluten-free pancake mix box sat open on the counter.
Annabelle was giggling with her feet flopping back and forth on a stool, munching on a plain pancake she held in both hands. Gentle, quiet, upbeat music floated through their soft conversation.
His heart thudded hard as Olivia smiled down at Annabelle while she fixed her hair. Annabelle beamed at her. Olivia talked with her like an equal, took her questions seriously and with kindness.
God, he loved that.
Olivia was dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, her long hair swooping down like a curtain as she bent over to gather sections of hair. She looked like she belonged in his house.
He wanted to keep seeing her right there every morning.
He slowly walked down the stairs, needing to be closer to them.
“Daddy,” Annabelle said with a bright smile, “see how cool my hair is?”
He nodded, padding across the living room floor. “It’s very cool,” he said, voice low and gravelly.
Olivia stopped and stared, frozen, as he walked toward her, her eyes caught on his chest.
Ah, shit. Didn’t think to put on a shirt.
He grabbed a flannel shirt from the back of a chair and pulled it on so he didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. “Smells good,” he said quietly to Olivia.
“Um.” She shook her head and focused back on Annabelle’s hair, snapping the end of her braid in a barrette. “There’s a stack of pancakes for you.”
She patted AB’s shoulders. “All done. Go get changed, and I’ll meet you down here with your lunch.”
AB immediately ran upstairs.
Wish she listened to me that well.
His heart was still thundering from the confusion of all of it.
“AB heard me come in and crept down to the kitchen. Love”—she spun around in a complete circle as she spoke, full of energy—“those unicorn footy pajamas of hers, by the way.”
There needs to be a stronger term than “morning person” for this sunbeam dancing in my kitchen.
Her bright eyes sparkled with humor as she grabbed a large container from his cabinets. “Think they make them in adult sizes?”
Stepping in front of him, she leaned across the wide kitchen island. His eyes landed on her ass nearly in front of his face. His jaw ticked, instantly picturing exactly what else they could do in that position.
Don’t be gross. He slammed his eyes closed, covering them with his hand for good measure.
She rifled through the refrigerator and pulled out cheese sticks, vegetables, and grilled chicken tenders.
His nerves kicked in at her possibly forgetting how he liked the lunch fixed. “AB likes the cucumber—”
“Cut into shapes,” she finished for him with a confident smile. “I remember from your note.”
“And I like to make sure that she has something fun in it, not just vegetables and protein, you know?”
“Love that,” she said as she gathered things around the kitchen with a singular focus.
“And don’t forget something to drink,” he said, trying to be helpful.
“So… tequila shots?” She smirked over her shoulder as she pulled out a small water bottle with a ta-da motion.
He sat on a stool, wiping a hand across his beard.
He was anxious about this, and he didn’t like that about himself. He felt outmaneuvered and not in control.
“I might need to turn the AC on if you keep steaming in the corner like that,” she said, cutting a carrot into bite-size bits and putting them in a little container with the star-shaped cucumber slices.
“Not steaming.” He sighed. He’d fucked this up already. He wasn’t mad, he just needed to make sure it was done exactly right.
“Tell that to your face scowling at me.” She huffed out a laugh.
I’m scowling? “This is, uh…hard for me. Just a little stressed.”
“Look.” She finally stopped moving in her sprint around his kitchen and cocked a hip, leaning against his island. “I get it. I don’t like giving up control either.”
Her knowing smile gave him permission to just…be.
The quiet kindness of her overwhelmed him.
“She’s my whole world,” he said finally. It had come out unexpectedly rough, more emotion caught in it than he’d realized.
“I know she is,” she said quietly, touching his arm briefly with kindness.
“She’d be mine, too, if I had such a fun, cool kid in my life.
That’s why I made pancakes today.” She was back in motion, clicking the Tupperware closed and putting it in the lunch box.
She buzzed around the kitchen in a way that made her look like she was at home.
He huffed out a laugh to himself. If only.
She shrugged as she chopped chicken tenders. “I wanted her to be excited about the change. Plus, I’m great at getting feedback, so just let me know what I need to change to be better.”
Better?
The idea was, as AB would say, bananapants.
Have you met you?
There literally couldn’t be anything better than you right here being yourself.
But he couldn’t say that, could he? “I’m sorry if I come off harsh. I don’t mean to.”
“I’ve been cursed at in seven languages and told I was a stupid, fat cow in three. You don’t scare me,” she said with a ghost of a smile, grabbing ranch from the fridge.
Horrified anger exploded in him like an atomic bomb. “What?” he yelled in a sharp, hateful voice, startling her as she opened the ranch bottle. Splatters of ranch squirted into the air, landing on the counter and floor.
“Jesus, sorry.” He was already up, wanting to fix it.
She burst out laughing as she grabbed a paper towel.
“I’ll get it, don’t worry about it,” he said, grabbing the roll and wiping the mess. “Why would somebody say that?”
And can they fight, and would anyone miss them if I killed them?
“It’s fine,” she laughed, waving him off as she scraped ranch into a small sauce container from the counter. “It’s part of the ballet gig. But my point is, tell me, okay? I want to make sure you can trust me, and I know that’s earned.”
She zipped the unicorn lunch box closed—how did she do that so quickly?—with a resolute nod. “I’ll pick AB up from school today, and then we’ll come here or go to the playground at the Falls Park. Is that okay?”
This woman is practically Mary fucking Poppins.
She danced circles around him, making an amazing breakfast, did something to Annabelle’s hair he barely understood, and packed a lunch all while he was just waking up.
Despite my piss-poor attitude too.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, trying to keep up.
He appreciated that she seemed to get him, that she wasn’t annoyed by his overprotectiveness like Pearl had been. “Can I have the keys to your car? I’ll take it into the shop and start to service it. Or, I can take it wherever you want.”
She tossed him her keys. “I trust you with Baby. Do whatever.”
“You don’t know me,” he said quietly, amazed at her.
“Hmm.” She sipped a mug with a knowing look on her face. “I also asked around about you.” She pointed a finger into his bicep as she walked past, and he had to bite his lip at the touch.
She tidied up the counter where she’d made pancakes.
“Georgia said you were, and I quote, ‘a hunk of good-ass man.’ Now, did she mean your ass is good? Or that you’re a good person?
Or both? We’ll never know, because I definitely wasn’t asking follow-up questions.
Pop said you egregiously overtipped Margie, who waited tables at his diner—”
“—She was like, seventy! She should be relaxing, not hefting twenty pounds of plates every morning,” he interrupted.
“—And I’ve known Nash Donnelly my entire life. If he trusts you with his precious BMWs, you obviously know your way around a car.” He’d done some body work for Nash and now considered the guy a friend with how much he’d hooked him up with all of his rich buddies.
She turned around, looking pleased with herself. “Do whatever you must to Baby.”
His lips twitched. It was pretty fucking cute she’d named her car.
AB ran into the room with her backpack, and he watched Olivia manage the chaos of her like a champ. He gave AB a rib-crushing hug and kiss goodbye.
He saw them off as Olivia drove away in his car. Was he absolutely fucking nuts to trust his car and his daughter to a practical stranger?
Maybe I should get to know her.
What her hobbies are, why she dances, what she does to unwind.
Yeah, that’s it, you idiot. Fall in love with her a little more.
He shook his head, knowing he needed to actually focus on work now. The faster he got all his business back on track, the faster he could take back control. He wouldn’t have to depend on Olivia or anybody else to make his life run the way it needed to.
Thirty minutes later, he jogged to his truck for his first appointment. The shop was closed on Mondays, so he’d tour the rental options for his shop in Fairwick Falls he’d bookmarked last night.
He felt unusually light and relaxed, not having to deal with the chaos of drop-off.