Chapter 9 #2
Chuckling, he kisses my chin. “Well-deserved, but not what I meant.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Some sorta top boss award.” His hand strokes my back, loosening something inside me. “Mason mentioned it.”
“Oh.” An anchor of drowsiness drags me back to his chest, and I settle back down with my ear to his heart. The steady thud coaxes me into a thick, dreamy haze. “Not an award, exactly. I was named to this year’s Top Forty Oregon Women in Business list. It’s not a big deal.”
“The hell it’s not.” He’s stroking my hair, fingertips trailing my spine to the top of my tailbone. “Congratulations, Hazel. That’s pretty damn cool.”
“Thank you.” I hesitate. “It’s really nothing. They just saw the Spencer name and know I’m Owen Spencer’s daughter, so it’s his clout that earned it. Or they figured the scandal would sell lots of—”
“Dahlia. Ivy. Briar.”
I ease off his chest to stare at him. “Are you having a stroke?”
“I’m amending the rules. I get bonus baby names anytime you downplay your achievements or speak about yourself like you don’t deserve wonderful things.”
“You mean I don’t even have to say the word ‘sorry’?”
“Laurel,” he says. “Savannah.”
“Stop it.” Whacking his chest with the back of my hand, I settle backdown with my cheekbone kissing his pec. “I wasn’t actually apologizing that time. Just uttering the word in illustration.”
“Let Savannah be stricken from the record,” he says. “But not Laurel. I like that one.”
“And I liked Savannah.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I sort of like Laurel, too. Maybe more than Savannah, but no need to let Luke get too cocky.
He goes back to stroking my hair. “Seriously, though. Congratulations on the award.”
“Thanks.” A syrupy warmth threads through my veins. It might not be from the sex. “They praised me for Spencer Development’s generous benefits package and our charitable work. That, and increasing our profit margin by eleven percent year over year.”
Maybe Luke hears it in my voice. Somehow he knows it’s the charity angle that means the most to me. “I love how committed you are to giving back. How hard you work to be part of the community.”
“I try.” The glide of his hand down my back coaxes the rest of the words out.
“You’re no slouch yourself.” I haven’t glanced at his payroll since before I slapped him with that silly parental rights paperwork, but I know he’s generous to a fault.
“You give a pretty large portion of each paycheck to Kayley’s Foundation. ”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, stroking my back. “It doesn’t make up for what happened to Kayley Hunter, but maybe it can help keep other teenagers from getting into trouble.”
“I think that’s noble.”
He shrugs, then changes the subject. “You support a lot of causes for children. I saw one on the Spencer Holdings website that helps fund plastic surgery for kids with burn scars and birth defects.”
“Kids can be cruel,” I say. “And money shouldn’t be the dividing line between who gets corrective surgery and who winds up being teased for a craniofacial abnormality like cleft palate or microtia.”
“I’m glad you feel that way. Not everyone does.”
I trail my hand down his belly, fingertips tracing the jagged scar that snakes from his ribs to his hip. “How did you get this?”
“Prison fight. You shoulda seen the other guy.”
I can’t tell if he’s joking. “I’m sure you had reasons for—”
“I’m kidding,” he says, catching my hand and pressing my palm to the spot right over his heart. “I was four years old and woke up in the night desperately wanting to play with Dad’s Hot Wheels. No one else was awake, so I pulled out the drawers on a dresser and tried to climb them like a ladder.”
“Oh, God.”
“Yeah,” he continues. “That didn’t work out so hot. I wound up with twenty-six stitches and broke Dad’s vintage Sky Crash Tower. I don’t think he ever forgave me.”
“Oh, honey.” I peel my cheek off his chest to peer into his eyes. “You know that’s not why he left, right? Little boys get into trouble. Little girls, too. Parents don’t leave when their children break things.”
“Yeah, I know you’re right.” He doesn’t sound convinced. “Just like you probably know theoretically that your mom didn’t move to Europe because of anything you did. But it’s hard to completely wipe that idea from your head.”
“That’s true.” I never considered we had this in common. “What brought you to Cherry Blossom Lake?”
“The hot woman at the helm of Spencer Development.” He laughs when I smack him. “I’m only half kidding. I didn’t know about you, specifically, but I liked the idea of working for the largest construction firm on the coast.”
“We’re lucky to have you.”
He kisses my collarbone, making me shiver. “How does your company work, anyway?”
“You’re asking about corporate structure?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
I snuggle against him, relaxing into what I’d define as perfect pillow talk.
“Spencer Holdings is the over-arching company, and it has its own board of directors. I’m a non-voting member of that, but the board gives me full authority to make decisions.
Especially those pertaining to the company’s charitable endeavors. ”
“So you’re the owner and the boss?”
“More or less. When I first started working with my dad, he insisted on changing the ownership structure of Spencer Development to put fifty-one percent in my name.”
“Sounds like a big vote of confidence.”
“It sounds like a gimmick to claim we’re a women-owned business.” Sighing, I shift the snark from my voice. “It’s the same reason he let me pursue all the charity endeavors when he was still leading the company. It looks good to clients, plus it comes with plenty of tax advantages.”
“But you did it for your own reasons.”
That didn’t sound like a question, but I feel compelled to answer like it is. “Giving back matters a lot to me. I know I’ve been blessed with monetary security. That I have financial resources others don’t have.”
“You think?” Luke chuckles a little. “These sheets alone probably cost more than my bed.”
They’re Giza 45 Egyptian Cotton and retail at two-thousand dollars a set, so…
yeah. “Money isn’t just for buying fancy clothes or a big house.
” My words get muffled in the warmth of his chest, so I tip my chin up just a little.
“It’s about sharing what I have with others who haven’t been as fortunate. ”
“That’s sweet.”
“That’s being a good human.” I sound so pretentious. “I’m not patting myself on the back. It honestly feels like the least I can do.”
“Give yourself credit.” He kisses the crown of my head, inhaling like he might be smelling my hair. The thought makes me smile. “You’re a kind, thoughtful, considerate human, despite how hard you work to make people think you’re a coldhearted bitch.”
“Thanks a lot.” I’m not really offended. “I’ll see if I can have that printed on a plaque for my office.”
“Good idea.” He starts to say something, then stops as his hand thumps the mattress beside me. “Aren’t you sweet?”
“Not really.”
He chuckles. “Wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to your cat. What’s her name, anyway?”
“Cat?” I bolt up and find myself peering into a pair of golden-green eyes. “Uh… I don’t have a cat.”
“Meow,” she says, begging to differ. The small ginger feline settles beneath Luke’s stroking palm, coiling her tiger-striped tail around her fuzzy white feet.
“Huh.” The glide of his hand down her back gets her purring. “Tell that to Pumpkin here. She seems pretty at home.”
“Luke, seriously.” Tugging the sheet to cover my breasts, I scramble to study my four-legged houseguest. “Where did she come from?”
“She was on your doorstep when I showed up. Acted like she lived here, so I didn’t think anything of it when she darted past you at the door.”
“Oh my God.” I must have been too distracted by tater tots to notice. “Did I just steal someone’s cat?”
“She doesn’t have a collar. I’m not feeling a microchip around her shoulders, but we can have her checked out.”
I should probably be more alarmed. But the cat bumps her forehead into my arm, and I find myself petting her silky-soft fur. “She’s cute.”
The cat gives a sweet little blurt of agreement.
“Marigold,” Luke muses. “That’s a good name for an orange cat.”
Ignoring him, I scratch the soft spot behind her right ear. She leans into my hand, purring so hard she starts drooling. “I was considering getting a cat.”
“Then it’s fate.” He tickles the side of her cheek. “Can’t argue with the cat distribution system. Congratulations—you’ve been chosen.”
“Very funny.” She is awfully sweet. “I should take her to see Annabelle Hanlon. Vets have ways of finding the owners of lost pets, right?”
Even as I say it, I know this cat is a stray. Something just tells me she’s mine. The cat must feel the same since she snuggles up next to me, purring and kneading my hip through the blankets.
“Cheddar,” Luke says, and my stomach releases a growl. He chuckles. “You hungry?”
“No. And that’s a stupid name for a cat.”
“I thought it was cute.”
“This is why you’re not in charge of naming the babies, either.”
Chuckling, he rolls to his back. “I thought you said I could name one of them.”
“One, not both.” I ponder the names he’s suggested so far. “I actually don’t hate some of the nature-inspired baby names you’ve come up with.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m serious. I like the idea of something earthy and beautiful. Some magic of nature springing out of the ground.”
He points to the cat. “You’re kinda making the case for calling her Pumpkin.”
“Not Pumpkin.” I give it some thought. “Squash. I like the sound of that.”
“So do I.” He grins. “Look at us compromising and shit.”
“Teamwork makes the dream work.” I’m kidding around, which I don’t often do. Luke brings it out in me. “I think I’m going to tell my cousins this weekend.”
He must know I don’t mean the cat. “That you’re pregnant?”
I take a deep breath. “Yes.”
His expression shifts to something I can’t quite read. Dragging his hand from the cat to my knee, he brushes the top of my calf with his thumb. “Okay.”
“I need to do it alone,” I blurt.
His forehead furrows a little. “How come?”
“Harper’s at an impressionable age, and I don’t want to confuse her into thinking we’re together. And then there’s Lucy and Peter.”
“What about them?”
God, this feels awkward. “With their fertility struggles, I just think it’d be harder if we show up looking like some sex-sated couple happily starting a family together.”
“Sex-sated, huh?” Of course he fixates on that part. Then he surprises me. “Yeah, that makes sense. But can I ask you a favor?”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t make me out to be some deadbeat dad who knocked you up and won’t take responsibility.”
“Of course.” To be honest, I’d kinda hoped I could skip right past the whodunnit part of the pregnancy announcement. Na?ve, I know. “I’ll make sure they know you’re involved and completely on board with an amicable co-parenting arrangement.”
His face twists a bit at my pretentious word choice.
“Your cousins are the closest thing I’ve got to family in this town.
I’ve spent a lot of years becoming the kinda guy they call for poker nights or when they need help clearing brush off their property.
” His fingertips tickle my thigh, and I shiver.
“I like that they text me to shoot pool at Cal’s place or jump on Jake’s boat to go fishing with the rest of them. ”
“I understand.” How did I ever think Luke would just sign those papers and walk away? “Family’s important to you. Even when they’re not biologically your family.”
“Exactly.”
I need to get back to my point. “I’ll be careful with how I tell my cousins. I promise.”
“Okay.” His thumb strokes my kneecap. “How soon will you tell them?”
“Sunday, I think. They’re all coming here for family dinner.”
His eyebrows lift. “You’re hosting?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“I’m not. I just assumed Lucy always hosted. She’s got that big house, plus she and Peter both cook.”
“Jake hosts sometimes,” I argue. “Even Kaleb hosted a picnic last summer.” Sighing, I twist a long shank of hair around my wrist. “But yeah, it’s usually Lucy.
And I’ll admit I’m not much of a cook. I felt bad for never taking a turn, so I figured I’d give it a shot.
It’s the least I could do to be part of the family. ”
A crooked smile tugs at the edge of his mouth. “That’s what I love about you, Hazel.”
Love?
He squeezes my knee, and my heart begins beating again. “You’re all about doing the right thing,” he continues. “I dig that about you.”
“Thanks.” Speaking of doing the right thing— “I had fun just now, Luke.”
“Oh, boy.” Muttering something, he gets up and starts dressing. “Here comes the magical but.”
The view of his muscular backside stalls my reply. Talk about magical butts.
“Nothing’s changed,” I insist. “We still can’t be together.”
“Sure.” He tugs on his pants, not meeting my eyes. “Remind me again why that was?”
“We’re too different.” I catch myself scrambling to remember more reasons. “It’s inevitable we’d eventually split up, and that’s not fair to our children. Better to begin with no expectations of a traditional family.”
“Okay.” He gives me his back as he pulls on a sock.
“Neither of us has any experience with a normal, nuclear family.” I feel like I’m grasping at straws. “We’re complete opposites, Luke. And the only thing opposites attract is—”
“Heartache. Got it.” His shoulders look stiff as he turns and starts searching for his shirt. It’s probably back in the nursery. “I should get back to the cribs.”
“Luke, wait—”
“Don’t worry, Hazel. I hear you loud and clear.” He anchors his fists on the bed, bracketing one on each side of me. Pressing his forehead to mine, he gives me his slow, steady smile. “We’re friends, co-parents, and maybe fuck buddies. Nothing more.”
“That’s right.” My mouth feels suddenly dry. Licking my lips, I pull up the sheet to cover my breasts. “This can’t happen again.”
“Whatever you say.” His blue gaze holds mine, a kaleidoscope of coppery sparks.
Struggling for breath, I give a tight nod. “Glad you understand.”
“Yep.” He’s not blinking at all, and maybe not breathing. When he kisses me softly, I let him.
It’s a sweet, tender kiss. Such a soft brush of lips that I sink into the sensation. When he draws back, I miss all that warmth.
He looks into my eyes and nods once. “I meant what I said.”
“Wh—what?”
But Luke doesn’t answer. Just shoves off the bed and strides from the room. The thud of his footsteps retreats down the hall as I turn to the stowaway cat on my bed.
“What just happened?” I ask.
The cat tips her head, nudging me softly to pet her. I give in and tickle the downy-soft fur on her neck. “Are you my cat now?”
Her purr of ascent warms my heart. Mine.
Is that what Luke meant?
Or am I—as usual—reading everything utterly wrong?