Chapter Eleven
Owen
Willa was gorgeous with her greasy hair in a top knot, pajamas, and a spit-up cloth on her shoulder.
So some part of me simply wasn’t prepared for how breathtaking she would be all dressed up in a gown.
I knew I was just supposed to be escorting her, wasn’t meant to feel any actual attraction toward her. But there was no fighting biology.
She was gorgeous.
I was noticing.
It didn’t have to be a big thing.
She was comfortable on the ride to the library, but as soon as we made our way in, she got more and more tense.
I got the impression that while she liked her job itself and her clients, she genuinely couldn’t stand her coworkers and boss.
Within two seconds of meeting said boss, I had to say I understood. And while she couldn’t put them in their place and keep her job, I had no problem making a comment or two that subtly put her coworkers in their places.
Each time I did, Willa shot me a pleased look that I couldn’t help but feel bolster up my ego.
Luckily, once she said her hellos to everyone she worked with, she stayed busy with her clients.
With them, she was bright, charming, relaxed, and confident. But very careful not to mention Adelaide. If someone brought up her leave, she kind of waved it off, quipped about how she was going to be so rested and ready to work for them when she came back, and changed the subject.
When she untangled herself from a particularly nosy group, she reached back, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me with her away from the crowd and in toward the stacks, not stopping until we were at the end of a row and hidden from view.
She collapsed back against the wall and exhaled hard.
“I have a very small baby,” she said.
“I’m aware.”
“And I think this sucks my energy more than she does.”
“In all fairness to your clients and coworkers, it’s not really their fault that they’re not as cute as your daughter.”
“That’s true,” she agreed, then reached toward me, sliding her hand under my coat.
I knew she was fishing for her phone. I could have handed it to her. But I liked her casual touch more than I probably should. The backs of her fingers barely grazed my chest, but my muscles tensed, my nerve endings fired off.
“I just want to check in real quick,” she said as she brought the phone to her ear. “Hey! I’m just—I know. Yes, I know. I just wanted—okay. Yes. Alright. Oh, stop.”
“Told you to stop fussing and get back to the party, didn’t she?”
“She did,” Willa confirmed. “My mom and dad are there with her too. And one of my aunts. Adelaide is getting better care than I can give her.”
“No one can take care of her better than you. But they can do a good enough job that you don’t need to worry.”
“You’re right,” she said, handing me back the phone, and I felt a sinking sensation of disappointment that she didn’t put it back herself.
She looked different when she talked about Adelaide. Softer, somehow. The tension that had been riding her shoulders since we’d walked through the doors eased a little, and the guarded expression she’d worn around her coworkers disappeared completely.
I’d seen Willa tired. I’d seen her frustrated. I’d seen her covered in baby spit and wearing pajamas at three in the afternoon.
But I’d never seen this version of her.
The woman who could be surrounded by hundreds of people and still have her entire attention narrowed down to one tiny baby.
I understood that kind of devotion.
I’d felt something similar toward my siblings, to my nieces and nephews, and to Tuna for years.
But what I saw in her was bigger.
And, if I were being honest, watching her love her daughter made me like her even more.
Which was a dangerous place to be.
“Want to head back in?”
“Do we have to?” she asked, shooting me a pout that made me want to sweep her up and carry her out of the place.
“Absolutely not. Well, until the food is served. Then I’m leaving you here and sampling what kind of fare is served at this sort of thing.”
“That’s fair. I’d abandon you for a great steak and potato right now, too. It’s been a lot of random junk and takeaway lately.”
“Did you like to cook before Adelaide?”
“Not really, no. I mean… I can manage. But it’s not a passion of mine. I’m a fantastic orderer, though.”
“Explains your collection of menus.”
“And that is pared down. I have most of them digital now. Do you cook?”
“I do. When I have the time. Which isn’t often."
“I guess I’m to blame for that, huh?”
“I’ve been busy since before your bathroom decided to throw a fit. There’s always work in the trades. Something is always breaking.”
“Don’t I know it. What’s your favorite thing to cook?”
“Impossible to choose. My grandfather taught me the love of grilling and smoking. But I also learned to love all the interesting ways you can prepare a potato or pasta dish from my grandmother.”
“So, what I’m hearing is you could smoke some brisket and serve it with a side of roasted potatoes, grilled asparagus, and maybe a little noodle soup appetizer.”
“I could do that. Actually, you might have just given me an idea for a meal this week,” I said.
Her eyes narrowed at that. “You can’t steal my meal idea. That’s just mean.”
“Is it mean if you can have some too?”
“That’s a lot less mean. I mean, I would never turn down a plate, but don’t cook for me.”
I knew as the words were coming out of my mouth that they were wrong, that I needed to keep a professional disconnect between myself and a client, but that didn’t stop them from escaping my lips. “You could come over for a plate.”
The second I said it, I realized what I’d done.
I’d invited my client to my house.
For dinner. With her baby.
It sounded suspiciously like a date when I put it that way. But there was no way to snatch the invitation back.
So I found myself picturing Willa standing at my kitchen island while I pulled brisket from the smoker. Adelaide sleeping nearby. Tuna inevitably hovering at her feet in case someone dropped something he could steal.
The picture came together so easily that it was unsettling.
It looked like home.
I ignored that thought and focused on her smile instead. That felt safer.
“To your house?” she asked, eyes going bright.
“It’s where my smoker and grill live.”
Her lips curved up at that. “I might be persuaded into that. If I can bring dessert.”
“That works out. I have no skill with baked goods.”
“Me either. But the lady at the local bakery does,” she said, smile bright.
“Tuna will love the company. He will show you and Adelaide every single one of his toys.”
“You don’t mind if I bring her?”
“Of course you’re going to bring her. You two are a package deal. And while she can’t personally appreciate the brisket, there is some stained glass that casts rainbow prisms that she might find entertaining.”
“Well, then, you set a date and time and we’ll be there.”
“Be where?” a voice asked, making Willa’s eyes roll back for the briefest of seconds before she stuck one of those plastic smiles on her face just a second before one of the Chrises appeared.
“Have a surprise planned,” I said.
“What kind of surprise?” Chris asked, words already slurring.
“Well, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?” I asked.
“Touché. Touché. Will, Lieberman is looking for you.”
Willa’s eyes flashed at the nickname. “I’ll be right there.”
“You know, I was thinking of putting an office in at my house,” Chris said, looking at me, his tone as condescending as he could make it.
“Well,” Willa said, moving in at my side, wrapping one arm around my back and sliding the other up my stomach, “Owen is a little busy renovating our bathroom right now. But I’m sure he can find someone to recommend to you in your price range.”
It took a lot of self-control not to snort at the dig. And the only reason I managed to keep it in was because I was so focused on Willa’s soft body against mine, and her hand on my ribs, that my mind was short-circuiting.
Chris’s eyes narrowed to slits. “I have no price range.”
“Oh, I’d be careful not to say that to a contractor, if I were you,” I said, letting out a little laugh. “But I’ll toss a name your way once I give it a little thought.”
With that, I led Willa away before the guy—and the booze making him bold—could say something that would cause a scene.
“He lives in a townhouse,” Willa told me as we walked down the stacks.
“He doesn’t tell anyone that, but he does.
Not that there’s anything wrong with a townhouse, but he tries to make it sound like he has a mansion.
When what he really has is a flexing problem and shopping habit that make his mansion dreams impossible.
So don’t bother trying to come up with a name. ”
“Dunno if I’d want to force him on anyone I know anyway.”
Willa’s arms fell from around me when we got to her client, so I took the opportunity to sell our cover by sliding an arm across her lower back to gently grip her hip instead.
At least that was what I was telling myself.
It had nothing to do with how nice it felt to have her close, to have her in my arm, to feel each shift of her body and the way it moved when she laughed.
“You all right?” I asked, whispering down by her ear when she got a panicked look in her eye.
She leaned up so her breath tickled the shell of my ear, making a strange shiver move through my stomach. “I need to pump,” she admitted. “And I need some cover in case anyone asks where I am.”
“Got you covered,” I said. “I’ll be mingling and claiming you’re ‘around here somewhere.’”
“Thank you.” She offered me an unsure smile. “I’ll be back before the meal.”
With that, she rushed away, her arm crossing over her chest before she disappeared.
It wasn’t long before random coworkers asked where she was, leaving me to glance around like I didn’t know she was likely in a bathroom stall trying to get some relief right then.
“So, Owen,” Martin, Willa’s boss, said, making me have to hold back a sigh.
“Martin,” I said, turning to face him.
“How long have you and Willa been together?”