Chapter 3
Chapter Three
ELLIS
She didn’t bring much. Two suitcases and some small boxes. I leave her in the guest bedroom downstairs while I sit with Olive in her room across the hall from mine.
“Alright, kiddo. Ask whatever questions you have,” I say, sitting on her twin-size bed.
Olive pets Ginger, whose head rests on her legs.
We got her three years ago. Deke once again convinced me to do something stupid.
The moment I saw joy in my daughter’s eyes again, it made it all worth it.
Wish I knew how big that puppy was going to get, though.
She’s cute, lovable, and loyal, but damn, are her shits huge.
“Is she my new mommy?” Olive mumbles, refusing to give me her eyes.
“Baby girl.” I wait for her to lift her head. “No. Your Momma will always be your Momma. You carry her with you, remember? Always.”
My gut jolts with suppressed emotion. Olive nods her head, absently finger-combing through Ginger’s thick, soft fur.
“But you’re gonna marry her,” she states what we’ve previously discussed months ago when I listened to my bonehead best friend.
“Yes. Legally, she will join our family. Together, we’re going to live here with you, and she’s going to help us and be here with you when I’m working.”
“In your room?” she asks.
“No. She has her own room downstairs.”
I watch the faint scatter of freckles around her nose move as she wiggles her nose in thought. Gillian used to do that. I reach over Ginger and cup my daughter’s face.
“If this makes you sad or uncomfortable, kiddo, we won’t do it. It’s you and me, baby girl.”
“Against the world,” she grins that well-beyond-her-years expression.
My lips tip up. “Yeah, kiddo. Us against the world. So you get a vote, remember? Even if you changed your mind. It’s okay if you did.”
I’ll still honor the deposit I stated in the agreement. Even if I pack up her old, beat-up truck and send her back home. I’m still reeling from the unexpected switch. I’m still convinced she’s too damn young, and I wanted a widow who’d get it.
But I did recognize it. The grief she carries in her hazel eyes.
And you’re attracted to her.
Fuck. This is a bad idea. Please tell me to back out of this, Olive.
“You can marry her, Daddy. She can join our family. It’s sad when you don’t have family. We can be her family now.”
Well, shit.
“You’ve got a big heart, baby girl. I love you.”
“Love you, Daddy. And Ginger loves you, too. Kiss Ginger, Daddy.”
Sugar and spice, this one.
The dog, knowing her duty, lifts her head and pants in wait.
“You love me, too?” I ask the golden retriever that’s bigger than my daughter.
Ginger softly barks.
“See, Daddy? Tooooold ya.”
“Right,” I grumble jokingly and pepper kisses over Ginger’s head until she starts attacking me with licks.
And this is my reward. The high-pitched, soft giggles of my almost six-year-old girl.
“Miss Iris, I said to Daddy that he can marry you,” Olive calls out between laughter.
I lift my head, surprised to see the young—too damn young—woman leaning around the doorframe. That yellow sundress is going to haunt my dreams.
This is a really bad idea.
“Sorry,” her husky voice softly apologizes. “I’m ready when you are. Just wanted to let you know.”
“Come see my room, Miss Iris. And meet Ginger,” Olive enthuses, standing on her mattress.
“Careful.” I reach out, ready to catch her if need be.
My body tenses as she approaches. The wildflower scent she carries is messing with my senses.
Her long, light brown hair is a little wild.
Her skin has been kissed by the sun. Thick brows over hazel green eyes.
Thick lashes, small nose, and perfectly pouty lips.
She’s angelic, almost, but then she speaks, and that husky note in her voice drips of sin waiting to ensnare any man.
We shouldn’t do this. Her sister was supposed to be here. A sensible widow whose picture didn’t stir, not even a goosebump. But this? Her? The moment I opened that door, I hated myself for how just the sight of her, the smell of her, made me feel.
Treacherous.
I watch her interact with my daughter and our dog. She easily laughs with Olive. Ginger’s already showering her with kisses.
And I could have gone my whole life not knowing what her laugh sounds like…because now, I’ll never forget it.
It’s sweet with a hint of a wheeze that almost brings a smile to my face. Would have, if I didn’t just fight it from appearing.
But damn, I feel it. It lingers like aftereffects in your bloodstream.
Fuck, Gillian. Forgive me.
We drop off Olive at Mrs. Harriet’s, much to my daughter’s cranky dismay. But I need a clear head to do this. Plus, it was Mrs. Harriet’s idea. To give…Iris and I time to adjust to what is going to become our new normal.
I promised Olive we’d pick her up for dinner. Iris chimed in that she’d be cooking something special. I wasn’t expecting her to cook. I almost turned it down, but she gave me a look that warranted no argument. Already, she’s playing the wife card perfectly.
Wife.
I rub my forehead, willing the growing tension to back off.
This wasn’t the plan. She wasn’t who I chose. If her sister flaked, what’s to say it’s not a family trait and this young woman won’t bail on us when shit gets hard and I’m unbearable?
Damn it!
I walk off toward the restrooms in the courthouse lobby. Iris went to freshen up as we wait for our witnesses, Keith and his wife, Laura.
Olive is already half in love with Iris.
Backing out now will rain a temper tantrum of the century.
I’ve already introduced this stranger, this woman, into her life.
I got her permission to legally bind ourselves to her.
The whole point of doing this is to bring stability into Olive’s life.
So punking out now will do the exact opposite.
I pace the back hall when one of the restroom doors opens. The momentum of my steps doesn’t help me stop before I collide with the very woman I vowed never to touch an hour ago.
“Oh,” she gasps as we crash.
My back smacks into the wall as Iris’ small frame settles against me. Her hands are at my chest, our hips flush. Both of us heavily breathe out as those hazel eyes look up at me in surprise.
My hands hold her small waist, and damn it to hell, that wildflower scent settles something warm and pleasant in my gut.
“Are you okay?” she asks softly.
Why the fuck are you staring at her berry-stained mouth?
Clearing my throat, I will my hands to straighten her away from me, but neither one of us moves.
“Pardon?”
“You were wearing a hole in the ground back here. Could hear your burly stomps from inside…cold feet already?”
My fingers involuntarily flex, and she feels it. The sharp intake of breath tells me so. But still, she doesn’t leave my arms.
“Last chance to back out,” I grunt, desperate for her to make the decision so I don’t have to.
Those large eyes hide nothing. She studies me, which churns my gut unnervingly. Instinctively, I hook the strand of hair attached to her lip out of the way.
What the hell are you doing?
Unfazed by it, she purses her lips, then tilts her head.
“Let’s go get married.”
My lungs burn on the inhale. Opposing emotions race through my veins—burning coals and a cooling rushing river.
Memories of being twenty-six and saying I do.
The morning that changed our lives.
The evening my whole world was introduced into the world, holding onto my finger.
And now…the first spark of attraction since Gillian. And the gnawing guilt it brings me.
“Ellis? You sure you can go through with this?” she asks.
Needing to breathe, I gently push her body off mine until enough space separates us for me to step away. I turn away, resting my hands at my hips, and breathe in anything I can except for that hypnotizing scent.
“I promise to be your partner and take care of Olive. I won’t do anything without your knowledge and consent first.” Her voice gets closer. “We can do this. You won’t regret this. None of us will.”
I close my eyes and hang my head.
For our little girl, Gill. She deserves better than what I’ve been able to give her alone.
I drop my hands and face her. She’s closer than I thought. Her lips tip up into a soft smile, and she reaches her hand out.
“Don’t think. Just jump?”
I stare down at her delicate hand, somehow knowing it’s strong and has worked hard. Her eyes smile, but behind them are nerves.
Fuck, she’s brave.
“Alright,” I say, taking her hand.
I was right. Her bones are delicate, but the calluses under her fingers tell another story of strength.
Twenty minutes later, we share clinical, vague vows. I ignore Keith’s fake sniffles and stare into my soon-to-be wife’s eyes. Again, it’s a warped dual reality of past and present happening at once.
Iris squeezes my hands before the officiant says, “You may kiss your bride.”
What?
“Make it good,” Keith whispers loudly in my ear.
I swear, if he wasn’t my boss.
“We don’t have to,” she whispers, trying to assure me.
We glance at the court official who’s definitely suspicious.
“We’re not big on PDA,” I tell him as an excuse to avoid it.
“Oh, come on, Ellis,” Keith insists. “You’re husband and wife. It’s almost bad luck not to seal the deal with the kiss.”
“Keith,” Laura reprimands, failing to hold back her laugh.
“It’s okay if you’re not comfortable,” Iris whispers for only my ears to hear.
Why does that feel like a challenge?
“If you two can sign the—” the officiant decides to move on, and that too feels wrong.
“Wait,” I tell everyone. I pull Iris closer.
Her eyes are greener as they widen. I cup her delicate face in my hands. “Is this okay?” I whisper to her.
She nods, resting her hands at my waist.
Don’t think, just jump, right?
I lean down as her face tips up. Her hands glide around my back as she stretches up on her toes and…
Holy shit.
Soft, pillow lips press against mine. Both of us, hesitant at the mere touch. Prickling tingles rush from my toes to the base of my spine, then land in my chest. My head tilts, and we both slightly open our mouths, delving a tiny bit deeper.