CHAPTER 10 #2
Vanessa talks to me like it’s completely normal for me to be in her home. I’m very aware that it’s not.
She’s the only reason I even got this far. I’m sure Lara would have shut me down immediately if Vanessa hadn’t been there.
Just because I know I’m pushing my luck doesn’t mean I’m going to stop any time soon. I’m not even sorry about it. I don’t think I ever will be.
As I grab enough cups for all of us, I watch as Vanessa unpacks the containers and carries them to the small dining table. “How was school today?”
“You know, adults always ask about school,” she says it as an admonishment.
She does have a point. It was an easy thing to reach for.
“It’s something that’s universal,” I point out.
“I was in school; your mom was in school, and you’re in school.
” I shrug while pouring two glasses of strawberry lemonade, making a mental note of the brands in the fridge and the things it’s stocked with because every second inside the inner sanctum is a reconnaissance opportunity.
“It’s something everyone understands and a way to find common ground. ”
“You know,” she whines slightly, “I don’t really need you using logic on me.”
I bark out a laugh just as the door opens again.
Vanessa lets out a sound and races over to the oven to get it pre-heated.
She does it so easily and readily that I’m a little surprised at first. I was more than willing to make myself a sandwich, something in the microwave, or get cereal when I was her age, but I wasn’t using the oven.
With a shake of my head, I remember that Lara is a baker. Of course they’ve done that together. Weren’t they just making brownie batter downstairs?
Lara breezes into the kitchen and puts the pan down on the counter.
Before she can think too much about me being in her space or the fact that I barged in on their lives, once again, I ask, “What do you want to drink, Cupcake?”
Lara falters for a moment, but then her cheeks turn pink. I know the last time I called her that, there was derision in my voice.
Not this time.
This time there’s only a sweet reverence.
“Water, please,” she murmurs and I treat getting her a glass of water like it’s my new life’s mission.
We move around each other with the kind of ease I’ve only ever felt around my brothers. It’s nice. I know I shouldn’t get too used to it.
It could be taken away from me at any moment. Lara could decide that she won’t give me even an inch of rope, let alone enough to tie me to them.
I’m starting to realize that being connected to Lara and Vanessa is exactly what I want. It’s what I need.
Fucking hell; it’s a scary as fuck thought.
I clear my throat as we sit down around the table. “Thanks for letting me crash your night, again,” my voice is light, but every word is threaded with sincerity.
Lara shoots me a look that says I didn’t give her much of a choice. She’s right; I didn’t.
“You brought food. It would be wrong of us to send you off with your dinner alone,” Vanessa says it like her sweetness isn’t dangerous to a man like me.
“Still,” I breathe out, “thank you.”
The conversation is mostly held together with twine and Vanessa’s upbeat nature. It’s more than okay. Lara doesn’t ignore me, she’s simply cautious.
“Exponents aren’t that hard,” Vanessa’s voice is breezy.
I let out a low groan. “Math was never my strong suit. The basics are fine, but I stay away from anything else.”
“Baking math is the only type of math I like,” Lara’s voice is reluctantly conciliatory.
“I’m not a baker, I’ll leave that to you,” I tease Lara.
“Can you cook?” There’s a challenge in her voice. “I mean, if you can’t bake, specifically, what about cooking?”
“I can get by,” I tell her. “There are a few things I do well, at least to my tastes, but I’m not going to be picking up a shift in the On Wasted Ridge kitchen anytime soon.”
Lara chuckles under her breath. “Working a kitchen line and cooking in your home aren’t exactly the same thing,” she pushes back slightly.
“Fair enough.” I surrender.
Maybe it’s because we’re in her home, but Lara adds to the conversation more tonight than she did at Dolly’s. I like it and I try not to make it obvious just how much. But I feel downright fucking giddy over it.
As we’re finishing up, Lara reaches out to collect the containers, but I beat her to it. When she parts her lips to argue, I just shake my head.
“I think I can clean this up,” I tease her.
“Hopefully without leaving crumbs behind,” she deadpans.
“I’ll do my best.” I chuckle and shoot her a cocky as fuck grin.
“I’m going to my room,” Vanessa’s voice is a singsong as she stands up from the table.
Before I know what’s happening, her arms wrap around my neck, and I freeze while reaching for her trash. My eyes are wide as I look at Lara who has a complicated expression on her face.
“Thanks for dinner,” Vanessa says right in my ear.
Lara bites her lip to stop herself from laughing and it’s too damn sexy. Her blue eyes sparkle with the laughter she’s keeping inside.
Vanessa lets go and is off. I call out after her, “Anytime.”
I stand up and throw everything away before grabbing the empty glasses and putting them in the dishwasher. Lara watches every movement like she’s going to be grading me on my performance later.
While my grades in school weren’t always top-notch, you better fucking believe I’d be valedictorian of whatever school Lara’s in charge of. Where are my cap and gown?
Without letting her kick me out, I walk into the living room and stand in front of a cluster of pictures. Every one of them has Lara and Vanessa in it.
One of them features a grinning Lara holding Vanessa wearing a shirt declaring it her first birthday. Both of them are covered in cake and frosting. Lara looks exhausted, but that’s not what has my breath hitching. It’s how raw the moment is, especially knowing the truth.
“I chose carrot cake that year because carrot was one of her favorite baby foods.” Her voice drops slightly and fills with warmth, “She always became a mess of orange goo, but she loved it.”
“How much of it did she actually eat?” I glance at her before looking back at the picture, my question filled with amusement.
It feels like a moment I missed. Shockingly, I don’t want to miss any more of them.
“Not much, but enough that I haven’t made her another carrot cake since,” she quips.
“We don’t really do the birthday thing, unless the Old Ladies put something together or for a kid,” I tell her.
I’m not entirely sure why I’m sharing. Maybe I just don’t want her to stop talking to me quite yet.
“Well, if you ever need a cake,” she teases, “I know where you can get one.” Before I can even laugh, she presses a hand to her forehead and mutters, “Dumbest thing I’ve ever said.”
“I’d be damn lucky to celebrate my birthday with one of your cakes.”
Lara’s cheeks pink slightly and I look away and take in the wall again. So many memories. Just the two of them.
Fuck, I was a dick.
When I step away to head toward the door, cobbling together some version of ‘goodnight’ and ‘thanks for not smacking me for inserting myself into your life’ together in my head, she clears her throat. I’ve seen a lot of looks on my woman, but I’ve never seen her apprehensive quite like this.
She was terrified before the cake eating contest, don’t get me wrong, but this is a different kind of nervousness. This has vulnerability wrapped up in it.
My heart starts pumping faster and harder in my chest.
Lara blurts out, “When can I get on your schedule?”
I take a step closer to her without realizing it as a huge grin overtakes my face. “Anytime.” I tell her, just like I did her daughter.
Any fucking time.
“I’ll make room and work around your scheduling needs,” I promise.
Anticipation spreads through my body; I can’t wait to get my hands on her.
In my tattoo chair. Of course. Obviously.