by Holly Rayner
“Nope,” Maia said, with a shake of her head. “I was born and raised in a little town in northern Iowa. You?”
“The city,” Ben said.
“Did you ever spend time with your family after dinner?” Maia asked, hoping to learn something about Ben’s past.
He pinched his lips closed, and his jaw tensed. “No,” he said.
Maia waited for him to go on, but he did not.
Then she spoke again, still glowing with the memory of cozy evening hours in her childhood home. “We always did. After dinner, Dad would clear the table and Mom would put out a board game on it. My brothers and sisters and I, and my parents, would all play—for hours sometimes—before bedtime. Monopoly was my favorite, because I knew it would mean we’d all stay up way past bedtime. We didn’t have a television at the farmhouse I grew up in…” Her voice drifted off as she realized she was babbling.
“Never mind,” she said quickly, snapping back into efficiency mode. She glanced down at her wristwatch. “I’d better get a move on with the kids if we’re going to grab breakfast out before I get them to their daycares. Joy’s is across the city from Colby’s. I’ll try to be into the office by seven, but if I’m late—”
“Don’t worry about that,” Ben said. “I’m sort of double-booking you, with all of this extra work. Do what you need to do, and I’ll see you at work whenever you get there.”
Maia wished, impulsively, that Ben was her husband, and she could kiss him goodbye. It felt so domestic, standing there with him and discussing dinner plans and daycare schedules.
She brushed off this notion with a subtle shake of her head. Then, she hurried over to the kids and hustled them out the door before the thought of kissing Ben goodbye could flit through her mind again.
Chapter 6
Maia
“A dash of salt, and…” Maia brushed her hands on the dishrag she wore over her shoulder, then picked up a small glass jar of oregano. “Just a pinch…” She let the oregano sprinkle down over the sauté pan that was filled to the brim with thick, simmering tomato sauce. Under the sauce, chicken breasts were nestled, cooking nicely.
For the past three nights, she’d cooked meals with supplies that she’d purchased to fill Ben’s kitchen. Finally, she was getting used to the space’s layout. She’d been pleased with how the dishes she’d prepared had turned out, and she hoped that tonight’s meal would outshine the last three by far. It had always been a favorite dish in her family.
“What’s that amazing smell?”
Maia turned to see Ben entering the kitchen. He wore the same suit jacket, pale blue shirt, and black tie that he’d worn at the office that day. He’d loosened his tie, and the grin on his lips seemed to light up his whole face. In his hand, he carried a bright orange plastic bag.
Maia smiled at him over her shoulder. “Chicken cacciatore,” she said, turning back to the dish. “My grandmother’s recipe.”
She used a wooden spoon to stir in the spices she’d just added, and then she replaced the glass lid. The steam that had been billowing out into the room now condensed against the covering. The clock display on the stovetop said that it was just after five.
She turned to eye Ben. “You’re home earlier than I expected,” she said happily. “What’s in the bag?”
Ben approached the kitchen, and Maia felt the now-familiar sensation of butterflies stirring in her stomach. As Ben neared, the sensation intensified.
He peeked past her at the pan on the stove. “Mmm… that smells so good. I must have smelled it down the block, and it drew me home.”
Maia giggled. “Just like in those cartoons,” she said, “When one cute little character or another catches a whiff of a pie, cooling on a windowsill.”
“Are you calling me cute?” Ben teased.
Maia blushed and didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed to the bag in his hands. “What’s this?” she asked. The bright orange branding of the bag didn’t look like something fitting to Ben’s obvious good taste. She doubted that the bag contained designer attire like he wore.
She was right. He pulled out a long rectangular board-game box from the bag and set it on the table. “Monopoly” was splashed across the top in thick black print.
Maia gasped, and her eyes widened. “Oh, Ben!” she said, stepping over to the counter and picking up the box. She turned it in her hands, taking in the sides and back. “It looks so much like the one I grew up with! They haven’t changed it at all, looks like. I remember I was always the little dog token.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever actually played,” Ben admitted. “But I remembered that the other day you said that when you were growing up, you played board games after dinner. You looked like it was such a happy memory for you. I figured maybe it would be nice to see what all the fuss is about.”
Maia couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re going to love it,” she promised. Then she laughed. “We’ll see how the kiddos do with it though… We tried playing last time I visited my parents when Joy was two-and-a-half, and she stayed engaged for about two minutes.”
“She’s older now,” Ben said.
“Older and wiser,” Maia said with mock seriousness. She and Ben glanced over toward the room nearby, where the two children were running around on the carpet, playing. Joy was holding a throw pillow on top of her head like a hat and doing a goofy dance to the music that Maia had put on.
“Much, much wiser,” Maia said again, and Ben laughed.
“Not to worry,” Ben said. He rummaged in the orange bag and pulled out a second box. “The salesperson at the toy store said the same thing, and she suggested this game for three-year-olds.” He placed a square box with “Foxes and Apples” splashed across the top in bubble letters.
“Much better,” Maia said.
“Maybe Monopoly will be an adults-only game for after the kids go to bed,” Ben suggested playfully.
Maia had to admit that she liked the idea of an “adults-only” activity with Ben, though Monopoly wasn’t the first activity that came to mind. “That could be nice,” she said, mirroring his playful tone.
She leaned back against the counter, watching Ben as he looked longingly at the pan on the stovetop again.
“You want to taste it, don’t you?” Maia teased.
“My mouth is watering,” Ben said.
“Dinner will be served in exactly… thirty-two minutes,” Maia said, reading the digital timer she’d placed by the stove.
Ben groaned with impatient desire.
“Here,” she said, crossing over to the fridge. “I have something that will take your mind off of the wait. You can help me chop veggies for a salad.”
“I have a better idea,” Ben said. He walked past her, toward a section of the kitchen that Maia had not yet explored. When he pressed a button on the wall, a panel slid open to reveal a glass door. Behind the door, bottles of wine lined wire racks.
Ben pressed a second button, and the racks rotated. He watched them pass until he seemed to spot what he’d been looking for. “Here we go,” he said, removing a bottle of red. “What to join me in having a glass?”
Maia was sure it was going to be the best wine she’d tasted in her life, given the breadth of the selection she’d just seen Ben browse through.
“Only if you help me chop while we sip,” she bargained. “This salad isn’t going to make itself.”
“Having second thoughts about those microwave meals, are we?” Ben teased.
He removed his suit jacket and tossed it over the back of a stool by the granite island. Then he rolled up his sleeves and used a corkscrew to remove the stopper from the wine. His tan forearms rippled as he worked, and Maia felt her heart race with desire. She longed to wrap her arms around Ben’s waist and kiss him, right then and there.
Seeing as that would hardly be appropriate, she settled for watching him work and merely daydreaming about what it would be like to feel his strong arms around her, and his lips on hers.
When he pulled
two glasses from a cupboard, filled them, and then handed one to her, she accepted it gladly. Though she couldn’t act on the fantasies that now constantly raced across her mind, she realized that sharing a glass of wine with Ben wasn’t a bad way to pass the time.
Not at all.
She felt as though she was walking on clouds as she and Ben talked over their days, sipped wine, and prepared a salad together.
While Maia was gathering the kids for dinner, Ben filled plates and carried them to the table. He seemed to love every bite of his meal, and the kids cleaned their plates as well.
Maia felt satisfied that her efforts in the kitchen had paid off, and her happiness peaked when Ben announced, “I’m pretty sure that was the best meal I’ve ever eaten,” as he slipped his empty plate into the dishwasher. “Now, who’s up for a rousing game of Chickens and Pears?”
Maia giggled and held up the square box, which was still on the countertop. “Don’t you mean Foxes and Apples?” she asked.
“Or that,” Ben joked.
“Me, me, me!” Colby said, as he jogged in a circle around Ben’s legs. “Uncle Benny, I want to play Chickens and Potatoes!”
Ben scooped up his nephew and slung him over his shoulder. “Oh, do you now?” he said, as he carried the giggling and yelling Colby toward the nearby seating area.
Joy chased after them. “Me too! Me too!” she called out.
Maia trailed after the three, and together they all settled onto piles of pillows that the children had conveniently littered across the floor.
“You know,” Ben said, as he stretched his legs and leaned back against the couch. “I could get used to this. I think pillows on the floor might be my new thing.”
“It’s my new thing, too,” Joy said, as she perched next to Ben. She leaned against him. “I like it.” She placed her small hand over Ben’s large one. “Know what?” she asked him.
“What?” he asked her.
“I like you, too,” she announced. “It’s my new thing.” Then she turned her attention to the game that Maia was carrying. “Mommy, we play Chicks and Pumpkins?”
“You three are butchering the title of this game,” Maia said with a laugh. “It’s Foxes and Apples.”
“Butchering!” Colby repeated. He collapsed back onto his cushions and laughed as if this was the funniest word he’d ever heard.
Ben chuckled, too. “This crowd is easy to please,” he noted.
“Welcome to hanging out with toddlers,” Maia said.
For the next half hour, she and Ben took turns reading aloud from the game’s surprisingly complex list of rules. When they didn’t feel like checking the rules, they simply made things up. The kids didn’t seem to mind, and Maia had a great time trying to top Ben’s wacky instructions with even more imaginative rules of her own.
“What happens when we get to the top of the tree?” Joy asked, with her little player piece poised at the top of an apple tree on the box.
“You get to move ahead two spots,” Maia said. “And you also have to give your mommy a kiss.”
Joy squealed with delight and bounced the little cardboard fox in her hands two spaces forward. “One, two!” she said. Then she got up and ran over to Maia’s side, planting a big wet kiss on Maia’s cheek.
Maia wrapped her arms around her daughter’s tiny waist and squeezed her tightly, pulling her down onto her lap as she did so. Once Joy was seated, Maia kissed the top of her head. Her soft blond hair smelled like strawberry shampoo. “One more turn each,” Maia said, “and then it’s bedtime.”
“One more for me?” Colby asked, picking up his own cardboard fox. He scooted it forward arbitrarily. “One more now?” he said.
Ben picked up the paper sheet of rules and pretended to read off of them. “It says—now each player gets to take one more turn, and then it’s bedtime.”
“One more,” Colby said with a nod. His eyebrows tinted with concentration as he picked a card up from a stack. “Three!” he exclaimed. He bounced his cardboard game piece ahead several squares, then leaped ahead to a random place near Joy’s. “There!” he said. “One, two, five, six! I got to the tree, too! I’ll give Uncle Benny a kiss.” He got up and kissed his uncle on the cheek.
Maia’s heart swelled as she saw her boss receive the love of the little toddler, who clearly adored his uncle. Ben’s dimples appeared on his cheeks as he received the kiss.
“Bedtime!” Joy announced, leaping off of Maia’s lap and then scampering down the hall.
Colby raced off behind her.
“I guess that was pretty fun,” Ben said, as he began collecting the pieces.
“I told you,” Maia said. She gathered several of the scattered cards and placed them into the box. “I’ll go get them to bed,” she said.
She stood, and Ben stood, too.
They weren’t far apart—a mere two feet—and facing each other. The sky outside of the banks of windows in the sitting room had dimmed to twilight colors. A single lamp burned in the room, casting a warm glow over the whole space.
Maia tucked her hands into the back pocket of her pants as she took in the sight of the man before her. Ben’s hair was tousled by his nephew’s fingers. His expression, relaxed and happy, suddenly shifted as he looked back at her.
Maia saw his eyes darken, just slightly. He bit his lip. Maia wondered what he was thinking. The space between them felt alive with magnetic energy.
She longed to step forward, closer to him, but instead she backed up. “Good night, then,” she said softly.
“Good night, Maia,” Ben said. His voice was deep and sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. “See you in the morning.”
It felt all wrong to walk away from him at that moment. Every cell of her body told her to move toward him, not away. She wanted to feel his strong arms wrapped around her. She wanted to feel his lips on hers.
His eyes held her gaze, and she wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
She forced herself to turn on her heel and follow the children toward the staircase that would take her to the guest room.
Twenty minutes later, after she’d settled Colby into his bed, Maia stood in front of an expansive mirror, with Joy at her side. Joy was standing on a stool in front of the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth. Maia had picked up two Pete the Penguin toothbrushes for the kids when she did her grocery shopping.
Joy gripped her new purple brush in her hands. “I love it here,” she announced, after spitting. “Mr. Bry is nice.”
“Mr. Briars,” Maia said absentmindedly. Internally, her mind was still reeling from the intense moment of attraction that she’d just felt toward her boss.
I haven’t felt this way in years, she thought.
Joy chattered on happily. “Can we stay, Mommy? In this house? Please, please, please?”
“Joy, sweetie,” Maia said, as she filled a little paper cup with water for Joy to rinse with. “Remember how I told you that we’re here to help Mr. Briars take care of Colby?”
Joy finished rinsing and stepped off of the little stool she was on. “Yes!” she said. “I love it here. I love Mr. Bry.”
This time, Maia decided not to correct her daughter about the pronunciation of Mr. Briars’ name. The happiness she’d felt all evening melted away and was replaced with a heavy sensation of sorrow that filled her chest.
She knew that Joy missed having a father. There were so many times when Maia read books aloud to Joy, that Joy would point to the father figure on the pages and ask why it was that she didn’t have a dad like the kids in the stories did.
Again and again, Maia had explained that their little family was different. Once, she’d found Joy crying after a child at daycare teased her for not having a dad at home.
“Joy, honey,” Maia said, as she crouched down to meet her daughter’s eye. “You know how we go to Nana and Pop Pop’s house and have a lot of fun there, just for a little while?”
Joy nodded.
“This is just like that,” Maia
explained. “We’re only here for a little while, okay?”
And Mr. Briars is not your new father.
She looked into her daughter’s large green eyes and went on. “We can have so much fun while we’re here. Then, you and I are going to say goodbye to Mr. Briars, and we’re going to go home, okay?”
Joy nodded but looked sad. Maia felt the corners of her own mouth pull downward, too. Like her daughter, she felt herself getting attached to Ben. He was so different here in his own home than he was at work. She felt herself falling for him more and more with each passing day.
But the two weeks will come to an end, she reminded herself. And I’m going to have to say goodbye to him.
Maia stood and held out her hand. “I have an idea,” she told Joy. “Let’s read a story before bed, okay? One of your favorites.”
The diversion tactic worked—at least for Joy. Her eyes lit up with happiness and she ran off to choose a book from her backpack.
Maia was not distracted so easily, though. As she snuggled into the guest bed with her daughter at her side and opened the book that Joy had chosen, part of her was still dwelling on her growing feelings for Ben.
Our time here is going to come to an end, she reminded herself again. I can’t get too attached.
Yeah, right, she thought, as she recalled the way it felt to gaze into Ben’s eyes. It’s a little too late for that.
Chapter 7
Ben
The keyboard keys clicked as Ben swiftly typed an email. His home office was located on the top floor of his Tribeca townhouse, and just like the rest of the spaces in his home, it was expansive and open.
Though his office had the best views of any room in his house, he rarely utilized it. Seeing as his company’s headquarters were only a block away, he usually spent long hours there instead of simply walking up the stairs in his own home to his private office.
It’s nice up here, he thought, as he finished up his email and clicked “send.” His focus moved to the bank of windows that lined two of the walls. Outside, night was falling. The days would get longer as spring matured, he knew, but as it was still early in the season the sky darkened early.
