Chapter Ten
The delivery truck rumbled up the driveway just before noon, kicking up gravel dust that hung in the humid air.
Rudy set down his coffee mug and headed for the front door, mentally reviewing what he’d ordered.
Paint for the kids’ rooms. New towels because Rose had somehow shredded three of them.
Curtain rods, because Timothy had used the old ones as swords and bent them beyond repair.
The driver who hopped out was younger than Rudy expected, maybe mid-twenties, with sun-bleached hair and the kind of easy smile that probably worked well for tips.
“Delivery for Crisp?”
“That’s me.” Rudy pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch. “Thanks for bringing it all the way out here.”
“No problem.” The driver grabbed a dolly and started loading boxes. “Pretty secluded spot you got. You must get lonely.”
“Not really. I’ve got three kids who make sure I’m never lonely for even five seconds.”
“Three?” The driver wheeled the first load up the walkway, biceps flexing under his company T-shirt. “You don’t look old enough.”
Rudy laughed. “I’m twenty-eight, and they’re all under six, so do the math however you want.”
“Single dad, huh?” The driver set the boxes down with a careful thud, then straightened with that same easy smile. “That’s impressive. And kinda hot, not gonna lie.”
Heat crept up Rudy’s neck. He hadn’t been flirted with in...well, years. Since before the lottery win, before the kids, back when his life was working six days a week and cramped apartments.
“I just… I mean, you’re clearly doing an amazing job.” The driver leaned against the porch railing, apparently in no hurry. “Takes a special person to handle three little ones solo.”
“They’re good kids.” Rudy shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t fidget. “A handful, but good.”
“I bet they are. You seem like you’d be a great dad.” The smile widened. “Listen, I don’t usually do this, but if you ever want some adult company…”
A low, rumbling growl cut through the air. Rudy’s head whipped around. Sobek stood in the doorway, filling the frame with his considerable presence. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders were rigid, and his dark eyes were locked on the delivery driver with an intensity that made Rudy’s pulse jump.
The driver took a step back. “Uh. sir? Is everything all right?”
Another growl, deeper this time. Audible and unmistakable.
Did Sobek just growl?
“I’ll just...get the rest of the boxes.” The driver practically jogged back to the truck.
Sobek remained motionless, watching the man as if he were ready to jump on him and not in a sexy way. His hands were curled into fists at his sides.
Rudy bit down on a laugh. “Sobek.” No response. Just that unwavering stare tracking the driver’s every movement.
“Sobek, he’s just delivering packages.”
“He was touching you.”
“He was leaning on my porch railing.”
“He was flirting with you.”
“Okay, yes, maybe a little.” Rudy couldn’t hold back his grin anymore. “But I don’t think threatening him with your scary face is…”
“I did not threaten him.”
“You growled at him. Twice.”
Sobek’s jaw ticked. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did. I heard it. I’m pretty sure the neighbors three miles away heard it.”
The driver returned with the last stack of boxes, practically sprinting up the walkway. He dropped them, shoved a tablet at Rudy for a signature, and retreated without making eye contact. The truck’s engine roared to life seconds later.
Rudy watched the vehicle disappear down the drive in a cloud of dust, then turned to Sobek with his hands on his hips. “You scared him.”
“Good.”
“Sobek.”
“He should not have been speaking to you that way.” Sobek’s expression remained granite-hard. “You are not available.”
Something warm unfurled in Rudy’s chest. “I’m not?”
“No.”
“And why’s that?”
Sobek opened his mouth, then closed it. His fists unclenched slightly. “Because I...”
“Because you what?”
“Because you have three children and no time for delivery drivers who think they can…” Sobek made a sharp gesture. “Who think they can just smile and touch your railing and…”
Rudy laughed, completely thrilled. “You’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous.”
“You’re absolutely jealous. You went all territorial and growly, like the men in those stories I love to read.”
“I did not growl.”
“Sobek. I literally watched you do it.”
Sobek’s jaw worked, but he didn’t argue further. The rigidity in his shoulders eased fractionally.
“It’s kind of adorable,” Rudy said, softer now. “In a scary, protective, caveman sort of way.”
“I am not adorable.”
“You’re a little adorable.” Rudy held up his thumb and forefinger, barely an inch apart. “Just a tiny bit.”
“Rudy…”
“Where are the kids?”
“Napping. All three of them. Timothy fell asleep in my lap, so I put him down. Rose and Jack followed within minutes.” Sobek’s expression shifted, some of the intensity draining away. “They are safe.”
“And you came running out here because...?”
“I heard that man speaking to you.”
“From inside?”
Sobek’s silence was answer enough.
Rudy stepped closer, crossing the porch until only a foot separated them. This close, he could see the tension still humming through Sobek’s frame, the way his dark eyes tracked every micro-expression on Rudy’s face.
“You really don’t like people flirting with me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Sobek’s hand lifted, hesitated, then settled on the porch railing exactly where the driver had been leaning. “Because you deserve better than delivery drivers with cheap smiles.”
“Oh, yeah? What do I deserve?”
Sobek’s gaze dropped to Rudy’s mouth, then back up. “Someone who understands what a gift you are.”
Rudy’s breath caught. The humid Louisiana air pressed close, thick with unspoken things. Sobek’s hand remained on the railing, knuckles white, like he was physically restraining himself from reaching out.
“Sobek...”
“You are raising three children alone. You give them everything. Your time, your patience, your…” Sobek’s voice roughened. “Your enormous heart. And that fool thought he could just smile at you and…”
“I wasn’t interested in him.”
“Good.”
“I’m interested in someone else.”
Sobek went very still. “You are?”
“Yeah.” Rudy’s pulse hammered in his throat. “Someone tall. Cranky. Really terrible at expressing emotions but weirdly amazing with my kids.”
“Rudy…”
“Someone who shows up every day with fish or tools or just himself, and doesn’t run screaming when Rose climbs the curtains, or Timothy covers everything in flour.”
Sobek’s hand moved from the railing to cup Rudy’s jaw, calloused palm warm against his skin. “You should not…”
“Should not what? Like you?” Rudy leaned into the touch without thinking. “Too late.”
“I am not...” Sobek’s thumb brushed across Rudy’s cheekbone, impossibly gentle. “I am not easy. I am not…”
“You’re here. That’s what matters.”
They stood frozen, a breath apart. Sobek’s hand cradled Rudy’s face like he was something precious. His eyes had gone soft, almost vulnerable in a way Rudy had never seen.
The distance between them evaporated. Sobek’s head dipped, and Rudy’s eyes fluttered closed, and…
Rudy pulled back.
“Wait.” His voice came out shaky. “Wait, I…”
Sobek dropped his hand immediately, stepping away. “I apologize. I should not have…”
“No, it’s not…” Rudy pressed his palms to his burning face. “Gods, I want to. I really, really want to. But I come with a lot of baggage, Sobek. Three small, chaotic pieces of baggage who need constant attention and who will definitely interrupt us at the worst possible moments and who…”
“They’re not baggage.”
“They’re a handful. They’re exhausting. They have weird quirks, and they need so much, and…”
“Rudy.” Sobek’s voice cut through the spiral. He closed the distance again, hands settling on Rudy’s shoulders. “Look at me.”
Rudy forced his eyes up.
“They are not baggage,” Sobek repeated, each word deliberate. “They are everything.”
“But…”
“Rose is fierce and wild and so full of joy it spills out of her. Jack is brilliant, understandably cautious and protective of his siblings. Timothy is brave, loving, and trusts you so completely.” Sobek’s grip tightened.
“They are not obstacles. They are not burdens. They are yours, which makes them precious beyond measure.”
Rudy’s throat closed up. “You really mean that, don’t you?”
“I’ve never meant anything more.”
“Most people run when they meet us. We’re too much. Too loud, too messy, too…”
“Perfect.” Sobek’s intensity was like a warm blanket. “You’re all perfect. Exactly as you are.”
Something in Rudy’s chest cracked open. He’d spent three years building a life around his kids, convinced that romance was something that happened to other people. People with normal families and predictable schedules, and children who didn’t occasionally sprout fur.
But here was Sobek, looking at him like he’d hung the moon, declaring that Rudy’s chaotic, imperfect family was everything.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you will let me…” Sobek’s jaw worked. “Let me be part of this. Let me help with the children. Let me fix your doors and catch your fish and…”
“Kiss me?”
Sobek’s eyes darkened. “Yes. That too.”
Rudy swayed forward, heart hammering, fingers curling into Sobek’s shirt…
“Daddy!”
They sprang apart. Rose burst through the screen door, hair wild from her nap, one sock on and the other mysteriously absent.
“Daddy, Timothy threw up.”
“What?” Rudy’s brain scrambled to shift gears. “Where?”
“His bed. It’s gross. Jack says it smells like death.”
“Dramatic much?” But Rudy was already moving toward the door. He paused, glancing back at Sobek. “I…”
“Go. I’ll grab cleaning supplies.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I know.” Sobek was already heading for the kitchen. “I want to.”
Rudy wanted to say something meaningful, something about how much that meant, but Rose was tugging his hand, and Timothy was crying upstairs, and the moment was lost…again.
Timothy’s room did indeed smell like death. Jack stood in the doorway with his shirt pulled up over his nose, looking as though he was ready to be sick himself.
“I told you it was bad,” Rose announced proudly.
Sobek appeared with a bucket, spray cleaner, and fresh sheets like he’d conjured them from thin air. “Jack, take Rose downstairs. Rose, do not climb anything. I’ll know if you do.”
Both children fled without argument.
Timothy sat on the edge of his bed, looking miserable, scales flickering faintly on his arms. Rudy’s heart squeezed.
“Hey, buddy. Does your tummy hurt?”
Timothy nodded, eyes welling with tears.
“It’s okay. These things happen.” Rudy scooped him up carefully. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“I’ll handle this,” Sobek said, already stripping the bed with efficient movements.
“You really don’t…”
“Rudy.” Sobek met his eyes over the pile of soiled sheets. “Let me help.”
It would be so easy to argue. To insist he could handle it alone like he’d handled everything else for three years. But the look in Sobek’s eyes wasn’t pity. It was compassion.
“Okay.” Rudy adjusted Timothy’s weight on his hip. “Thank you.”
Sobek’s expression softened. “Always.”