Chapter Thirteen
Magnolia
Jacob and Holden stayed for dinner at the loft. Rosie was asleep, and we couldn't bear to risk waking her up by strapping her into the carrier and driving her home. She'd be awake soon enough.
Holden ran out for pizza, and we had a relaxing meal except for the weighted glances Jacob kept throwing at Vance. Vance was ignoring him, and I couldn't tell what was going on.
Whatever.
I had more on my mind than the Winters boys.
I'd managed to get the brochure layout done and emailed off to Sloane, so at least she was off my back. I'd face the rest of my workload tomorrow. Once Vance's show was behind us, we could all relax.
Rosie woke up just as we were putting her in the car, starving and with a newly wet diaper. We'd already locked up Vance's building and loaded Scout into the back of the Range Rover. Poor Rosie had to suffer for fifteen minutes until we could get back to the house.
Vance offered to handle the diaper and the bottle while I took Scout for a quick walk in the backyard. He'd been inside all day, mostly ignored, as Rosie demanded all of our attention.
I almost missed it, my hand going automatically to the knob on the kitchen door, my eyes on Scout beside me. The door was slightly ajar, the deadbolt mostly disengaged.
The house was old, and some of the doors and windows were tricky. This door had to be pushed all the way shut, then pulled out a fraction of an inch for the deadbolt to fully engage.
I always locked it correctly out of habit, but if Vance had let Scout in that morning, maybe he hadn't. I couldn't remember which of us had handled Scout after breakfast. The day felt as if it had been a million years long, that morning a lifetime ago.
"Vance, did you let Scout in this morning?" I asked, turning the door knob in my hand. It moved easily. Not only was the deadbolt open, but the lock on the handle wasn't engaged.
"I think so," he said from the other room. "Why?"
"The door isn't closed all the way." I shrugged and swung it open.
It wasn't a big deal. This wasn't a high crime area, and it didn't look like anything had been disturbed in the house, but I didn't want bugs getting in.
Every time I forgot and left the back door open while I was outside, I ended up finding a spider in my living room. Yuck.
Vance came back in the room, carrying a mostly naked Rosie. "The door was open?" he asked.
"It's not a big deal," I said. "It's an old house, and sometimes, the latch doesn't close properly. We just have to remember to shut it all the way after we let Scout back in."
"Are you sure we didn't? I don't remember leaving the door open."
"This morning was nuts, Vance. I'm surprised we all managed to put on our shoes. It's not a big deal. Just try to remember."
He was still staring at the door when I slipped outside with Scout, an old tennis ball in my hand. My dog was pretty lazy, aside from jogging with Vance, but he chased the ball for a few minutes before he got bored and nudged the back door, looking for his dinner.
If only babies were as easy as dogs.
I remembered the last time Scout had gotten into the trash can and thrown up all over the kitchen floor. Nope, still easier than a baby.
I was glad we'd already had dinner because I was too tired to cook. I was not too tired for ice cream.
Grabbing a pint of cookies and cream from the freezer, along with a spoon, I went in search of Vance and Rosie.
I found them in the family room, Vance half reclined on the couch, Rosie tucked into his arm and happily feasting on her bottle.
I sat on the other side of the couch and opened the ice cream.
"Hey," Vance said, raising an eyebrow at me and eyeing my spoon loaded with ice cream.
"You want my ice cream?" I asked. He nodded, giving me his sweetest look. With anything else, it might have worked, but this was really good ice cream and it had been a very long day.
I was also completely useless at saying no to Vance Winters.
I scooched closer on the couch and dipped the spoon into the ice cream, lifting it to his mouth. I hadn't been thinking, or I would've been ready.
His tongue flicked out, scooping the ice cream off the spoon, his eyes on mine, hot and blue. I shivered.
I took the spoon back and dipped it into the pint. Sliding it across my own tongue, knowing the cold metal had just been in Vance's mouth, was unbearably intimate.
Did he know I was thinking about that kiss? I pretended like I didn't remember. It was easier that way. I'd been drinking and too much of a coward to deal with the aftermath of kissing Vance.
It had been a bit more than just a kiss to me. A lot more than just a kiss, but I refused to go there.
We’re sharing ice cream, I told myself. It’s not intimate. It’s just dessert. Then why didn't I get him his own spoon? Because he couldn't feed himself while he was feeding Rosalie.
That was my excuse for scooping out another bite of cookies and cream and raising it to Vance’s mouth.
A blush rose to my cheeks as I watched his lips close around the metal and his tongue flick across the bowl, making sure he got every drop of ice cream before releasing the spoon.
I wanted to pretend he didn't affect me, but the redness in my cheeks made me a liar.
I should have put the ice cream away, but I didn't. We ate almost half the pint like that, Vance silent, his eyes on me, my cheeks pink with embarrassment.
Not embarrassment. I had to be honest with myself if I wasn't going to be honest with Vance. I wasn't embarrassed. I was turned on.
Rosie finished her bottle, and Vance turned his attention to the tricky task of burping her without getting thrown up on. He was better at it than I was. I escaped, returning the ice cream to the kitchen.
"Would you put the game on?" Vance called out on his way upstairs. "She's half-asleep. I'm just going to lay her down."
I did, flipping through the channels until I found the basketball game I thought he was talking about. Sports weren't my thing. I thought about going up to my room, pretending I was too tired to stay up any longer. It wasn't a lie.
I was exhausted, but it was still early. Too early to go to bed.
I was going to have to learn to deal with Vance. He hadn't been flirting with me. He'd been eating ice cream. I was the one who was reading too much into it. We were just going to watch a game, and that was it.
I made the mistake of sitting down in the middle of the couch. I wasn't used to sharing it, and that was where I normally sat, with my feet up on the coffee table. Vance came back and sat down beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into his chest.
Alarm bells went off in my head.
If sharing a spoon with him felt too intimate, this was way off the charts. But his arm was warm and solid around me, his heart thumped under my ear, and his fingers trailed through loose strands of my hair, the gentle tugging lulling me into submission.
I stayed where I was, curled into Vance, my eyelids drooping. Above me, he said in a low, laughing voice, "I put all the girls to sleep."
"Rosie's out?" I murmured.
"Like a light. She'll be up again as soon as she's hungry, but for now, she's asleep."
"Thank God," I said, letting my eyes drift shut.
I didn't care about watching basketball. I just wanted to stay exactly where I was. I drifted off, lulled by the sound of Vance’s strong heartbeat and the distant noise of the game on the TV.
I don't know how long I was asleep. My eyes opened when Vance leaned forward with the remote and shut off the TV.
"The game over?" I asked, not really caring.
"Mmmhmm," Vance said, stroking my hair off my face.
"K," I said, intending to get up. I was slowly waking up, but I was too comfortable to do anything about it. I'd move in a minute. Stalling, I asked, "What time is it?"
"It's late. Past your bedtime." Vance was half-joking. He knew I wasn’t a night owl.
"Rosie still asleep?" I asked. His body was warm and solid against mine, his arm still holding me close. He smelled so good, clean and male. I wished I could curl up right there and go back to sleep.
Vance didn't answer.
"What time is it?" I asked again.
"Late," he said, tossing the remote on the couch beside him. He turned, shifting me from his chest to lay back into the cushions.
His body rose over mine, his face so close all I could see clearly were his eyes, dark and intent.
"I know it's too soon," he whispered, "but I can't wait anymore. I've been waiting for you forever."
I didn't know what he was talking about. I didn't have time to figure it out. It was exactly like the first time he’d kissed me.
My brain shut off and my body roared to life. My hands came up, pulling his face into mine, my fingers burying themselves in his hair, pulling it loose so it fell around us, smelling of the woods and Vance. His tongue stroked the seam of my lips, and I opened my mouth, all caution gone.
Kissing Vance was a terrible idea. I knew that. I'd already decided that.
I didn't care. I wanted this. I wanted the weight of his body pressing me into the cushions and his arm wrapped around my back, lifting me up, tilting my hips so my legs fell apart to make room for him.
I wanted the thick bar of his erection against the heat between my legs. His mouth moving on mine. His tongue tangling with my own.
I let out a whimper. Fingers slid under my shirt, under my bra—a bra he'd somehow unfastened while I'd been wrapped up in his kiss.
Before I knew it, both shirt and bra were pushed up to my shoulders, my breasts bared. Vance pulled his mouth from mine and sat back, his eyes gleaming as he studied me.
He started to say something, then he gave a quick shake of his head and slid backward down the couch so his mouth was lined up with my nipples.