by Bella Grant
“I’m not so sure about that,” Laurel responded, and before I knew what she was about to do, she dipped her hand in the paint and slapped it on the front of my shirt. My work shirt. “Oh, crap, I forgot you weren’t wearing old clothes like us!” she exclaimed, her eyes widening in horror as she stared at her hand print on the front of my gray shirt. “I can wash it out,” she hastened to add.
Instead of being upset, I grinned, feeling the tension draining from my body as I raised my hand from the container of paint and patted her cheek with it, smearing her skin with paint. “That’s okay. I have plenty more of these shirts.”
“You did that on purpose!” she protested.
“You mean like you just did?” I cocked an eyebrow at her.
Giggling registered in my ears, and my head snapped around to find the twins laughing at our antics. I turned back to Laurel and our eyes held. By her grin, I knew she was thinking the same thing I was. We dipped our hands in the paint and smeared the girls’ faces.
They shrieked with laughter and ran across the room. I shared another look with Laurel and felt happy for the first time in a long time. I knew what her look meant. We were pursuing.
Chapter 15
Laurel
“Laurel, do you like our dad?”
I paused as I inserted a pearl-tipped pin in my hair and turned to regard Anabelle, who had asked me the question. Both sisters were perched on my bed, watching me get dressed. I tried to appear nonchalant, although this question from the eight-year-old flustered me. I had asked myself the same question since being with the Simpsons for two weeks now.
Do I like Jarrod Simpson? He was a good man. I didn’t need to have that talk with him about being more actively involved with his daughters. He never turned down my suggestions unless he had urgent business. A few days ago, when the girls wanted to dress up for a formal dinner, Jarrod had played along, dressing in his tux to match the girls’ flamboyant dresses we’d bought while shopping at the mall.
The more he became involved, the more Anabelle and Isabelle opened up and responded to both of us. I’d insisted on eating dinner together as a family every night, but tonight, we were going out to a restaurant, just Jarrod and me. He’d called earlier while at the office and told me his plan. Two weeks had passed, which was enough time for us to become ‘aware’ of each other and take the first step towards getting married, without anyone being suspicious. A date.
“I do like your dad,” I told them with a smile. “He’s a good man. Do you like your father?”
“At first, we thought he was scary,” Anabelle replied quietly.
“Yeah, we were afraid of him,” Isabelle seconded.
“And now?” I prodded.
“He’s okay,” Anabelle answered. “He laughs now.”
“That you’re here,” Isabelle added. “Everything is better with you here.”
My eyes misted with tears, and I had to go over to the bed and hug them. “Thank you for saying that.”
“I wish you’d marry our dad,” Anabelle remarked. “Then you’d be our mom for real.”
I sucked in a deep breath, touched by their words. I could tell them we would get married, but it was best if the news stayed between Jarrod and me for the moment. I also felt a twinge of guilt, like we were deceiving the girls, but I brushed it aside. We were getting married to provide them with exactly what they had expressed they wanted. A mother.
“You girls know your bed time is at eight,” I reminded them. “Don’t think you can persuade Mrs. Phillpotts to let you stay up late. No watching TV past eight-thirty, and you should be asleep by the time we get back from the restaurant. Okay?”
“Okay,” they chorused, and I took one last look at myself in the mirror before grabbing my clutch.
The dress was new and bought when I moved in because I thought I’d better have something elegant in my closet to match Jarrod just in case. The cobalt-blue, geometric, off-the-shoulder cocktail dress hit me at the knee with a slit at the front left. High-heeled black sandals and a single-strand pearl necklace completed my look. I’d braided my hair before securing it on top of my head in a knot.
My phone buzzed, and I retrieved it from the table, my lips tugging into a smile at the sight of the message from Jarrod.
Where are you? I’m waiting in the hall.
I typed a response quickly. Be right there.
I left the children in the rec room with a hug before heading for the hall. My legs were a little shaky, especially when Jarrod spotted me and watched me approach him. The way he observed me was the most nerve-wracking moment of my life.
He was dressed smartly in a black jacket suit, one hand casually in the pocket of his trousers. He removed said hand when I stopped in front of him and held it out to me. I placed my hand in his and looked up into his twinkling eyes. I was a little disappointed he was doing all this for the benefit of his staff. If they knew we were going to dinner together, they would be more accepting of our marriage because they too must never know the true nature of our decision to get married.
“You look beautiful,” he complimented me aloud. “Perfect for what we have in mind for tonight.”
“You’re not too shabby yourself,” I returned as he placed his hand at my lower back and guided me from the house. He immediately dropped his hand, walking ahead of me to open the door of the car parked out front. I slid across the seat and he followed suit, closing the door and instructing the driver to take us to The Capital Grille.
We would have driven in complete silence except the driver had soft, soulful music playing. I was relieved when we arrived at the restaurant and Jarrod helped me out. His hand remained on the small of my back just above the indentation of my butt as we walked into the restaurant.
The hostess led us to our table and passed us menus. As soon as she left, a waiter arrived to introduce himself pleasantly and take our initial drink requests. I wasn’t sure what they offered at the restaurant and left the drink ordering to Jarrod. He didn’t even look at the menu as he ordered us a bottle of wine by a name I didn’t recognize.
“You’ve been here a lot, haven’t you?” I asked him as we pored over the menu, more me than him.
“Business dinners. They offer private dining here,” he explained patiently. “Having trouble ordering? Do you want my help?”
“Yes, please.”
He was so matter-of-fact about it that I had no time to feel embarrassed for not knowing what to choose for myself. When the waiter returned, I took his suggestion and ordered fried calamari steak while he ordered grilled beef tenderloin. Our appetizers arrived, and we munched on crispy shell crab with rolls while talking about the girls.
“I can’t thank you enough for taking this job,” he remarked. “I’d never have thought the girls would adapt to you so quickly. Are you sure you’ve never been around children before?”
“None,” I responded, pleased with his compliment. “I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure I would know what to do, but they’re very smart kids.”
“Any luck with a tutor?” he asked.
“I was hoping I would continue to work with them until the new school year,” I told him. “I found the curriculum the previous tutor was working with and we’ve been catching up.”
“You don’t mind doing both?” he inquired in surprise.
I shrugged. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t know what to do with my days while a tutor was with them.”
“Hmm,” he said as though in thought.
“What?”
“You genuinely like the twins, don’t you?”
I was surprised by his question. “Of course I do.”
“I had a nanny and a tutor who complained about how unresponsive they were. You show up and in two weeks, you’ve made more strides than we did in two months.”
The waiter returned with our main course, which gave me time to contemplate how much I should really divulge to him. I wanted to spare him, but if he didn’t understand his children, he wouldn’t be
able to relate to them.
“Your children were afraid of you,” I said softly.
“I sensed that,” he sighed. “Though I often wondered why they would be afraid of me.”
“You were new to them,” I replied. “And your presence can be intimidating. But good news, now they think you’re okay.”
“Just okay?”
I chuckled at the scowl on his face. “It’s an improvement from being afraid of you.” I sobered and told him, “I have a question, though.”
“What is it?”
“Would you consider them going to a regular school?” I suggested, then hastened to add, “not a public school. A private school. I did some research on it, and Lakehill Preparatory is a great school.”
“Laurel, we talked about this before.”
“Before you say no, hear me out,” I told him, reaching absently across the table to pat his hand. “The kids would benefit a great deal from it. It will teach them how to socialize with their peers and be more comfortable around others. If they have a tutor, sure, they learn academics, but what about everything else they learn by being in a school? Problem solving, critical thinking, self-preservation.”
“I understand what you mean, but is it so bad wanting to protect them?” he inquired, then continued, his voice thick with sorrow. “Their mother committed suicide, Laurel, and they found her. They dialed 911 and explained their mother was bleeding all over the tub in the bathroom and wouldn’t wake up.”
“Oh no!” I cried, horrified. Now it made sense—their reservation and his desire to shelter them. “That’s horrible.”
“It is,” he affirmed. “And then being sent to live with a complete stranger. Me. I screwed it up worse by not knowing what to do when they came to live with me. Like you, I’ve never been around children. I never wanted any children. I even had a vasectomy done a couple months before I found out about the twins.”
The odd feeling of disappointment inside me was misplaced. I wasn’t looking to be a mother to his future kids, so it didn’t matter if he’d been snipped or not.
“How could you be so sure you don’t want more children?” I queried. “You’re getting into the hang of things with the girls.”
He shook his head vehemently. “In that case, a vasectomy is reversible, but I don’t see that happening. No kids for me in the future.”
I mused on that while we ordered dessert and fresh glasses of wine. The first bite of milk chocolate fudge cake almost made me moan. “This is good,” I told him. “You should try it.”
I dug in again and paused when I realized he wasn’t eating. Just watching me. “Is something wrong?”
He scraped his chair back and approached me. His eyes were glittering mischievously before he dropped down on one knee. I could hear the hush in the restaurant. I shouldn’t have been surprised at the black velvet box he took from the inside pocket of his jacket and popped the lid.
The most beautifully, exquisitely cut diamond engagement ring peeked out at me. My breath caught. It’s not real. It’s just a ploy. As much as I tried telling myself this, I felt overwhelmed. Why hadn’t he told me he would be doing this tonight? Because I would have been prepared instead of getting choked up about a fake marriage proposal for a fake marriage.
“Laurel, will you marry me?” he asked, reaching for my hand with his free one.
“Yes,” I affirmed past the lump in my throat.
An applause thundered in the restaurant as he slipped the ring on my finger. Someone yelled “kiss” and a chant went up that placed us in an awkward position. I stared nervously at Jarrod, wondering what he would do. He pulled me to my feet and took me in his arms, and as his lips descended on mine in a kiss that left me weak-kneed, I had a hard time convincing myself this wasn’t real.
Chapter 16
Jarrod
Treading along a long corridor, my legs heavy as though I had been walking for hours, I sighed with relief on reaching a closed door. I reached for the knob and turned it. I pushed the door open and water mixed with red paint sloshed about my bare ankles. Where were my shoes? I hadn’t even been aware I was barefoot.
I hesitated before entering the room, but curiosity grabbed me when I saw the single white porcelain tub in the room. From the rim of the tub, the red-colored water sloshed onto the floor, soaking my feet. Something was very odd about the way the water kept sloshing onto the floor. Magnetized by the tub, I inched closer, although what I wanted was to head for the door.
I almost gagged at the sight that awaited me in the tub. The lifeless body of Rachel, my daughters’ mother, lay prostrate in the tub, her wrists slashed, the blood mingling with the water, sloshing on the floor.
“Oh, God, Rachel, why?” I choked out, her beautiful face sad in death.
Her eyes flew open, and she angled her head so she could stare at me accusingly. “You know why,” she contradicted. “I told you I would do it. Why didn’t you stop me?”
“I didn’t know you were serious,” I stated, my voice anguished. “I hadn’t seen you in eight years.”
“I reached out to you, and you did nothing about it,” she said sadly. “Now you have to face the consequences. Letting the girls know what you did. You helped kill their mother.”
“No!” I protested. “I tried to help you before and it didn’t work. I didn’t believe you.”
“You failed me, Jarrod. Just like you’ll fail our girls.”
I stepped back, shaking my head, and slipped on the wet tile. Instead of hitting the floor, I was dragged under the pools of bloody water seeping into my nostrils, my mouth, suffocating me…
A poignant scream pierced the night, jerking me awake. I sat up, gasping for air and choking a little at the last lingering remnants of the dream. I’d thought I was over the guilty nightmare since I hadn’t dreamt of Rachel for several weeks.
Another scream echoed in the distance, and my deliriousness had waned enough for me to recognize the voice. I couldn’t tell by the hysterics which one of the two was wailing, but it didn’t matter. I scrambled out of bed, not bothering to grab my robe. I ran from the room towards my daughters’ bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and the screaming had subsided into soft sobs.
I skated to a stop just inside the room, not surprised to find Laurel already there, sitting on Isabelle’s bed, the little girl sitting in her lap and sobbing into her chest. Laurel rocked her gently. From across the other bed, Anabelle was shaking but not crying. I walked into the room and joined Laurel, instincts taking over and dispelling any awkwardness I would have normally felt being so close to the children. I swallowed hard when Anabelle didn’t protest me sitting on her bed and pulling her to me, my arm going around her slender body. And then she, too, started crying.
“Nightmare,” Laurel mouthed to me over their heads, and I nodded in full understanding. I could only imagine what they had seen in their dreams. If it was anything like mine, they had a right to be freaked out.
We didn’t speak, only rocked them gently until they fell asleep again. I followed Laurel’s example, placing Anabelle back into bed, ensuring she wouldn’t wake, and we tiptoed from their room. I closed the door behind us and turned to Laurel.
From her state of undress, she had run out of bed as I had. She wore a silky night dress which ended several inches above her knees. Shit. I shouldn’t have allowed my gaze to leave her face. She had perky breasts which jutted firmly from her chest without the restraint of a bra. Her nipples peaked against the material beneath my gaze, and my mouth went dry. Lust shot through my body and hardened my cock.
So the kiss in the restaurant hadn’t only been about the moment. I was attracted to her, and from the reaction of her nipples, it was safe to conclude she was turned on by me too. I hadn’t anticipated such a development, especially on my part. I’d been celibate for two years, long enough for it to have become a way of life, and I was lusting after her so hard. Maybe it was the celibacy making me react to her this way.
“Any idea what h
appened?” I asked her, walking beside her to her bedroom, which sat at the opposite end of the corridor from mine.
“She wouldn’t say,” she replied, crossing her arms over her chest, but I could have told her it was already too late. I’d probably need a cold shower before I could go back to sleep.
“Maybe about her mom.” I sighed heavily as we stopped at her bedroom door.
“Possibly,” she concurred, pushing her hair behind her ear. The engagement ring on her finger flashed.
“I’m thinking of placing them into counseling,” I ventured. “What do you think?”
She nodded her approval. “That would be good. You all could go.”
“Oh, just them.”
“It may do you some good too.”
Sometimes, her intuitiveness was scary. I ignored her comment and switched the topic. “I want to meet with the wedding planner tomorrow. I won’t go into work until the afternoon.”
“Can we bring the children with us?” she asked.
“Are you sure you want them helping make decisions for the wedding?” I asked uncertainly.
“I think they’d like it.”
“We’ll have to tell them first,” I reminded her. “We still haven’t done so.”
“We’ll tell them together at breakfast,” she decided.
“How do you think they’ll react?”
A smile tugged at her mouth, and she bit her bottom lip to contain it. “They’ll be fine. Good night, Jarrod.”
I couldn’t help staring at her back and down to her round backside. Heat flooded my cock just before the door closed behind her. I ran my fingers through my hair and willed my erection to dissipate as I walked back to my bedroom.
Despite being jerked out of sleep, as soon as my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep, not thinking of the disturbing nightmare. The passionate way she’d kissed me in the restaurant, clutching the lapels of my jacket, was the memory that stayed with me. What had started as a kiss, appropriate after such a public proposal, had turned into us losing ourselves in each other.
