Irresistible: Cloverleigh Farms Standalone

by Melanie Harlow

  “Well, we knew that. She’s marrying you, isn’t she?”

  He laughed. “Fuck off.”

  “I’d better go. We’re getting a ton of snow tonight,” I told him. “The roads will probably be bad.”

  “Yeah, we’re getting some here too, but not like you guys are up there. Can’t say I miss it.”

  We hung up, and I packed it in for the night. Up at reception, I said goodbye to Frannie’s mom, who looked anxious.

  “Oh, there you are,” she said, knotting her hands together. “I’ve been texting Frannie. It’s so bad out there, I don’t want her to drive in the dark. The roads will be icy.”

  “I’ll bring her back, Daphne,” I assured her. “Don’t worry.”

  “Okay.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’d send John to come get her, but I worry that his eyesight isn’t great for night driving.”

  “No problem. Really. My tires are good in the snow, and it’s a short ride.”

  She smiled in relief. “Thanks, Mack. You have daughters, so you know how it is.”

  “I do. Have a good night.”

  But as I hurried out to the parking lot and impatiently brushed off my car, I realized it wasn’t only my daughters I was so eager to get home and see—it was her daughter too.

  Mack

  The blizzard was in full force. The roads were awful, and traffic crawled. Normally, the ride between my house and Cloverleigh was only about fifteen minutes, but today it took nearly two white-knuckled, curse-muttering hours. Not only did the snow and ice slow me down, but twice I had to pull over and help out other drivers. One lady had gotten herself stuck in a ditch, and some guy had spun out onto the shoulder trying to take a curve too quickly.

  By the time I pulled into the garage at the back of the property where we lived, Frannie’s little Volkswagen was pretty well buried at the curb, and I was tense and irritated and starving.

  But the moment I stepped through the back door, the smell took the edge off my mood. My stomach rumbled with anticipation as I inhaled.

  “Daddy!” Felicity shouted, running over to me. “You’re home!” She wrapped her arms around my waist and squeezed.

  I hugged her back without telling her to wait so I could take off my coat and boots and gloves, even though I was getting snow on the floor. Whenever I was late, the girls reacted this way, and I often wondered if part of it was worry I might not come home—if I’d abandon them the way their mother essentially had. “I’m home. Wow, it smells good in here.”

  “We made chili.” Felicity looked up at me and gave me a smile. “And macaroni.”

  “Macarons,” said Frannie from the stove with exaggerated French pronunciation. “And if you don’t stop calling them macaroni, I’m never coming over to make them again.”

  From the way the girls all giggled at once, which was my favorite sound in the world, I got the feeling it was already some kind of joke between them. My mood lifted further. “Well, whatever it is, it smells so good my belly sounds like a bear.”

  Felicity pressed her ear to my stomach. “It does. You’re right.” Then she looked over at Frannie. “Did you know my dad has hair on his belly?”

  Frannie burst out laughing while I considered strangling my middle child. “Thanks, Mavis. Have I mentioned you have a goofy haircut yet today?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Well, you do. Now let me get my boots and coat off so I can eat, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I yanked off my boots and left them on the back hall rug next to four other pairs, tossed my gloves and hat on the little bench near the door, and hung up my coat. While I was out of sight, I ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to repair the damage done by wearing a hat for two hours.

  When I stepped into the kitchen, Winnie was there wanting a hug. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hey you. Long time, no see.” I picked her up, squeezing her against my chest. Over her shoulder, I surveyed the scene in disbelief. The kitchen was definitely cleaner than I’d left it this morning. No one was looking at a screen. A platter of pale yellow macarons was on the kitchen counter, where Millie was sitting.

  “These things are amazing,” she told me, her mouth full. “And they’re gluten-free! We used almond flour.”

  “I had almond flour?” I asked, surprised.

  “Winnie and I stopped at the store on the way here,” said Frannie as she stirred the chili.

  My stomach growled again. “Let me know what I owe you for groceries.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She winked at me over one shoulder, making my nether regions tingle.

  “Daddy, did you know that macarons have feet?” Winnie asked, making Frannie laugh.

  “Imagine that,” I said, setting her down. “You girls ate dinner already?”

  Millie nodded, rolling her eyes. “Yes, and did my homework and practiced piano.”

  Frannie’s back was to me, and I watched, a little starstruck, as she ladled chili into a bowl. “Where are my real daughters and who are these imposters?” I asked.

  She turned to face me, a smile on her face and a steaming bowl in her hands. “Here. This is for you.”

  “Thanks. It looks awesome.” Taking it from her, I went around the counter and slid onto the seat next to Millie.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Frannie asked, setting a napkin and spoon in front of me.

  What I really wanted was a beer, but I thought I’d better not since I was going to have to drive her home. “Maybe some water, but I can get it.” I started to get up again.

  “I’ve got it. Sit.” She gave me a sympathetic look. “You just got here, and that drive had to be stressful.”

  “It was.” Forgetting how hungry I was for a moment, I watched her take a glass from the cupboard and fill it, looking perfectly at home in our kitchen. She set the water in front of me as Winnie and Felicity bounced around the kitchen, telling me about all the cooking they’d done.

  “I got to help slice the bell peppers,” Felicity said proudly. “And there’s pumpkin in the chili!”

  “I swifted the flour,” announced Winnie.

  “Sifted,” corrected Frannie.

  “And I separated the egg yolks from the whites for the macarons, but I messed up the first couple and wasted some eggs,” Millie said, her expression guilty.

  “That’s okay, Millie.” Frannie leaned her elbows on the counter across from us and smiled at my oldest. “It’s tricky and takes practice. I used to mess that up all the time too. And you did a great job making sure the batter was mixed enough. Our meringue was perfect, and that’s quite a feat for your first time.” She’d changed out of her work shirt and was wearing a loose-fitting gray top that sort of fell off one shoulder, revealing something white and lacy underneath.

  Quickly, I dropped my eyes to my food and concentrated on eating. In fact, I scarfed down the first bowl of chili Frannie had given me so fast I burned my tongue, but I didn’t care. It was hot and delicious, thick with chicken and vegetables.

  “Daddy, can we watch Andy Mack?” Millie asked, hopping down from her chair. “Frannie said we had to wait until you got home to have screen time.”

  I nodded to the girls. “It’s okay.”

  The kids wandered into the front room and turned on the TV while I scraped the bottom of my bowl. When every last bite was gone, I set down my spoon and put my hands on my stomach. “God, that was good.”

  “There’s more,” Frannie offered.

  “Sold.” Grabbing my empty bowl, I slid off my chair and went around the counter. “One more bowl and then I’ll drive you home.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to drive me home,” she said as I moved past her to the stove, taking care not to let my body brush against hers.

  “I promised your mother I would.” I took the top off the pot of chili and scooped more into my bowl. “And the driving’s bad. I wouldn’t feel right putting you out on the roads, especially not when you’ve done so much for me to
day.” Although the last thing I wanted to do was hit the roads again. I’d have to take the girls with me, since the blizzard made the drive time too long to leave them alone.

  “It was no big deal. I enjoyed it. My days can be pretty monotonous at the desk, especially in the winter when the inn gets slow.”

  I put the top back on the pot and moved around her again, taking my chair at the counter. “Do you like working reception? Is there another job you’re interested in at Cloverleigh?”

  She shrugged and leaned on the counter again. “Chloe offered to let me manage the Traverse City tasting room, but I actually don’t know that much about the wine. I’m better off at the inn. I like working with food, especially baking.”

  “From what I hear, you’re amazing at it—and from what I taste, of course. Have you ever thought about opening a bakery?”

  Her eyes dropped to her hands. “A little.”

  “And?”

  She didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know. It takes a lot of time and money to start a business, and I’m not very … adventurous. I don’t think I’d make a very good entrepreneur.”

  “I think you could do anything you set your mind to,” I told her.

  “Really?” She looked up and smiled softly, making my heart skip a few beats.

  “Really.”

  “I guess I could talk to my dad,” she said with a sigh. “But my mother would have a problem with it.”

  “Why?”

  She straightened up and leaned back against the island, rolling her eyes a little. “It’s not a big deal, really, but I was born with a heart defect that puts me at a slightly higher risk for a heart attack, believe it or not, so she’s always worried about stress.”

  “I never knew that,” I said, realizing there were probably a lot of things about her I didn’t know, and wanted to. “Are you okay now?”

  “Yeah, I had surgeries to correct the problem when I was younger, but my mother has always been overly protective—both my parents, actually. Even though the doctors say I’m fine, I feel like my parents look at me and see a sick kid.”

  Placing my spoon in the empty bowl, I carried it to the sink. “As a father, I can understand that. We can’t help seeing our kids as innocent, helpless babies who need our protection.”

  “Well, I’m not a baby,” she snapped. “And I don’t want to be treated like one.”

  I turned around and looked at her in surprise. I’d never heard her speak angrily. “I’m sorry, Frannie. I didn’t mean you’re a baby. I meant that it’s hard for a dad to let go. Mentally, we know our kids need us to, so they can make their own way in the world, but in our hearts, we can’t stop trying to prevent them from making mistakes. We never want to see them get hurt.”

  She took a breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I had an argument with my mother earlier, and … I just get a little tired of being seen as a kid all the time. I want to be seen as an adult capable of making my own decisions. You know?”

  What I knew right then was how good she looked standing in my kitchen, feisty and worked up, a little color in her cheeks, a little skin showing where her top had slipped off that shoulder. I wanted to bite it.

  I leaned back against the sink, gripping the edge of the counter. “I hear you.”

  “I mean, I’m twenty-seven years old.” She took a step closer. “Don’t you think I should be allowed to make a few mistakes?”

  Talk about mistakes. In two strides I could have covered the distance between us. Taken her in my arms. Crushed my lips to hers and felt her chest pressing against mine.

  But I wouldn’t do it.

  Maybe she wasn’t a baby, but she was only twenty-seven—ten whole years younger than I was. She was the boss’s daughter. She was the nanny. She was here doing me a favor.

  And she trusted me.

  There was no way.

  Frannie

  I was holding my breath.

  I wasn’t even sure why, but it was something about the way Mack was looking at me. And the tension in his body—the taut muscles in his neck. The grip of his fingers on the edge of the counter. The set of his jaw. It gave the impression of restraint. Like he was holding himself back.

  Something unfamiliar hummed in the air between us. I could feel it—he wanted me the way I wanted him.

  No wonder I couldn’t breathe.

  Then he cleared his throat and turned away from me, cutting off the current. “Sure. Everybody needs to make mistakes now and then.”

  I’d forgotten I’d even asked the question.

  He turned the sink on, rinsed his dishes, and placed them in the dishwasher. I stood there staring at his muscular back, at the width of his shoulders, at the snug fit of his jeans on his butt. If I were his and he was mine, I’d go over and wrap my arms around his waist, press my cheek to his back. Then he’d turn around, winding his arms around me. He’d lower his lips to mine, and—

  “I should get you home,” he said, interrupting my fantasy. “Want to grab your coat?”

  “Sure.” But I didn’t really want to leave. I wanted to stay in this warm, chaotic house with him and the girls. Pretend I belonged here. Pretend I belonged to him.

  “Want me to put the chili in the fridge?” I asked.

  “I can do it when I get back.”

  “Okay. I’ll say goodnight to the girls.”

  “Actually, they should probably come with us. It’s late.” He went over to the back door and pulled on his boots, leaving them unlaced. “Can you tell them to put on their stuff? I’ll warm up the car.”

  “Yes.” I went into the front room and rounded up the kids, and we were zipping up our coats when Mack came in the back door again, a frown on his face. “Of course, my fucking car won’t start.”

  One of the girls clucked her tongue. “That’s a dollar, Daddy.”

  He glared at them. “I should get a freebie for car trouble.”

  “Is it the battery?” I asked, pausing with one glove on.

  “Maybe. But the way it’s parked in the garage, we wouldn’t even be able to get your car close enough to jump it.”

  “What about using my car to drive me home? You can drop me off and borrow it for tomorrow. Or for as long as you need. I can always use my mom’s SUV if I need to go somewhere.”

  His brow furrowed. “I could try, but your car is pretty well buried. Might take me a while to dig it out. Was it okay on the roads earlier? The streets haven’t even been plowed here yet.”

  “It wasn’t awesome,” I admitted. My Beetle was adorable and fun in the summer, but every winter I regretted not choosing something bigger and better in the snow.

  Mack sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Snowflakes were melting on his shoulders, scarf, and hair—he’d gone out without his hat. The tips of his ears were red from the cold.

  As we were standing there, the phone rang, and Millie whooped. “Snow day! Please, please, please!”

  Felicity made it to the phone first and picked it up. “Hello?” Then she nodded excitedly and did a little dance. “Snow day tomorrow! No school!”

  While the girls cheered, Mack looked at me over their heads, his expression grim. “I need a beer.”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t blame you.”

  “Dad, can Frannie spend the night?” Millie asked.

  “She can sleep in my room!” shouted Winnie, clapping her hands.

  “She doesn’t want to sleep with you,” said Millie. “You wet the bed.”

  “Do not!”

  “Do too!”

  “Dad, Millie said I wet the bed and I don’t anymore!”

  “Enough!” Mack put out his hands. “I need to think.”

  “But can she sleep over, Daddy? Please?” Felicity clasped her hands beneath her chin.

  He looked at me. “I hate to say it, but I think you might be stranded at the zoo for the night.”

  “I don’t mind. I just need to call my mom and let her know.” I rolled my eyes, thinking that
at twenty-seven, it shouldn’t have been necessary and probably made me sound even more like a child. “Otherwise she’ll freak out.”

  “I get it,” he said.

  “Yay! Then we can bake something in the morning for breakfast. Frannie knows how to make gluten-free monkey bread!” Millie danced around the island.

  He unwound his scarf. “Well, I guess that settles it. I can’t turn down monkey bread.”

  My heart was thumping hard as the girls crowded around me. Which was silly—I wasn’t staying because he wanted me to. I was stuck here.

  Still. We were going to sleep under the same roof. It gave me a thrill I hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Was that pathetic?

  I removed my coat and boots and took my phone out of my purse to text my mom.

  Going to stay at Mack’s house. His car won’t start and mine is buried on the street.

  She called me immediately, and I imagined she’d been waiting nervously with her phone in her hand. Gritting my teeth, I answered it.

  “Hello?” I moved into the dining room, where it was less noisy.

  “Do you want Daddy and I to come get you?” she asked right away.

  “No, that’s okay.” I glanced up and saw Mack pull a beer from the fridge, then hold it up as if to say, You want one? I nodded. “I’m fine here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. The girls are all excited about baking something in the morning. And I don’t want Daddy out driving tonight. The roads are terrible and you know how bad his eyes are in the dark.”

  “That’s true,” she conceded.

  “I’ll text you in the morning. The kids don’t have school, so Mack and I will probably bring them over to Cloverleigh.” Mack and I. That was fun to say. “We might be a little late, though.”

  “That’s all right. Just be safe.”

  “We will.”

  “Goodnight, dear.”