by V. K. Sykes
Teddy poured a cup of coffee into a Philadelphia Patriots mug and pushed it across the counter. “You look like you could use this. And no, I didn’t hear a thing. In fact, I slept like a baby until I felt Toby’s wet nose on my cheek.” She laughed softly. “When I opened my eyes, he was standing over me like Snoopy doing his giant bird of prey routine. It’s a miracle I didn’t scream and wake the whole neighborhood.”
Teddy had quickly roused herself out of bed, put on her dog clothes—a halter top and sweat shorts—then fed the dogs and taken them for a brisk, two-mile walk. Now, almost two hours later, long after she’d showered, changed, and eaten breakfast, both Toby and Sadie were still sacked out—Toby on his usual sofa and Sadie lying below him on the floor. Noah had given them some attention after he came downstairs, but they’d immediately fallen back to sleep.
The Poodles were absolute darlings—sugar-sweet and easy to take care of if you didn’t mind a little rambunctiousness from the male. Teddy found it endearing, especially in a dog in his golden years.
Noah rolled his eyes. “I warned you about letting him on the bed, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t mind. He’s a sweetie.” Teddy swished out the empty carafe and started to make another pot. “You’re going to want more, right?”
“God, yeah. I didn’t get in the door until three-thirty. Thunderstorms delayed the team plane leaving Atlanta.”
Teddy had to stop herself from staring at him again as he stood up and opened the refrigerator, grabbing a carton of orange juice. The view of his broad shoulders and great ass wasn’t exactly hard to take. His hair was a little disheveled but he looked absolutely yummy with his heavy overnight stubble and drowsy eyes. Even better was the way his tight white T-shirt and navy blue sleep shorts bulged in exactly the right places and left little to the imagination. His tanned legs were a mile long and muscular, and it was all too easy for Teddy to imagine them wrapped around her.
She gave her head a shake, finding it almost impossible to believe that she was having coffee with the hottest bachelor in Philadelphia after spending three days in his fabulous house. And it was all because Buster had dug his way out of his prison next door. Go figure.
Noah sat back down with his orange juice. “Where’s Cristina? Out shopping?”
Teddy shook her head. “She’s still in bed. Apparently, she came down with something yesterday.”
“That sucks. Did you check on her yet this morning?”
“I knocked on her door a little while ago and asked how she was and if I could get her anything. She said she’d like a cup of tea, so I made one for her.”
Noah gave her a puzzled look. “Nothing about how she felt?”
“No, and I didn’t want to press her.” Cristina had come to the door and taken the tea, obviously not wanting Teddy to set foot in her suite.
Noah separated the sections of the Philadelphia Post and pulled out the sports pages, spreading the newspaper on the counter in front of him. He scowled briefly as he read a story and said, “Cristina can be a little weird sometimes. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s not really sick. She might still be sulking.”
Sulking was the word Noah had used after Teddy filled him in on the phone about the frosty relationship she’d had with Cristina all weekend. She’d only mentioned it because Noah had pressed her, and even then she’d been extremely guarded in how she’d described the situation. She didn’t want to get Noah mad at Cristina, nor did she want him to think he’d created discord in his home by injecting Teddy into the mix. She could handle whatever the housekeeper threw at her, and she was damn well not going to let Cristina drive her out of the best-paying gig she’d ever had.
“How about I make you some breakfast?” Teddy said brightly. Anything to get him off the subject of Cristina. “I can make a pretty mean omelet. Bacon and cheddar, maybe? Or asparagus? I’ve got some left over from last night.”
Noah looked up from his paper and gave her a crooked smile that made her legs go a little rubbery. “Teddy, that’s real sweet of you, but you don’t have to cook for me. You didn’t sign on for that.”
“No, but I can make breakfast for a friend, can’t I?” Teddy gripped her coffee cup with both hands as she took a sip, watching him closely. “Aren’t we friends as well as client and service provider?”
Teddy winced as the words came out of her mouth. Service provider? That could mean just about anything.
But Noah’s expression didn’t indicate any reaction to her choice of words. Instead, he lifted his arms up high and stretched, making the muscles in his shoulders and biceps ripple in a way that sent Teddy’s hormones into hyper-drive. God, the man must be throwing off enough pheromones to attract an army of women since they were threatening to completely overwhelm her. She clenched her teeth for a moment to stop her mind from going to places it shouldn’t, because she and Noah were going to be friends. They were going to share a house from time to time, and they were going to enjoy an occasional meal together. She had to learn to stop reacting like a sex-starved maniac whenever he was around.
“Hell, yeah, we are,” Noah said at the end of the stretch and after a big yawn. “And if you feel like cooking, I’m sure I could manage to punch down a bacon and cheddar omelet.” He grinned. “With four eggs.”
“You got it.” Teddy snapped a salute before reaching down into the cabinet below her and pulling out a medium-sized mixing bowl. She’d familiarized herself with the kitchen after Cristina had told her on the first day that she had no intention of cooking for her. That had suited Teddy fine, of course, and ever since they’d acted like a pair of magnets, repelling each other whenever they came into proximity.
She went to the refrigerator for eggs, butter, cheese and bacon and then reached up onto an overhead rack for the omelet pan.
“How did it go last night?” Though Teddy hadn’t watched the game, Cristina had. In fact, she’d told Teddy she watched all “Mr. Noah’s” games.
Noah didn’t look up from the paper. “I really struggled, Teddy. Not the performance I wanted, that’s for sure.”
His eyes had come alive when they talked about the omelet, but now they’d clouded over again. Teddy wished she’d never opened her mouth about baseball. She wouldn’t make that mistake again. If Noah wanted to talk about it, she’d let him bring it up. “Are you sure you want me to spend the rest of the day here? I’m happy to, but I can leave and come back to walk the dogs later this afternoon if you’d prefer.”
“God, no,” he said. “I want you to stay, especially if Cristina’s under the weather. I want to get to the park early this afternoon so I can spend more time with the pitching coach and get a good workout in. In fact, you’re more than welcome to stay over another night if you’re up for it. I’m happy to pay.” He managed a small smile. “Actually, I wish you would.”
Though Teddy hadn’t planned on another night, how could she turn down the generous overnight rate Noah had insisted upon? When she’d suggested a rate to him before he left for Atlanta, the company’s standard two-dog fee, Noah had said he’d pay exactly double that amount. Staggered, Teddy had accepted and thanked him profusely for his generosity. Some of Dog Nanny Pros’ wealthier clients—like the Bennetts—carped a little about their rates, which were admittedly higher than most pet care services charged. But Noah had declared what she’d initially asked for to be insufficient to compensate her for the amount of work and the disruption in her personal life.
Personal life? What personal life? She could study just as well at Noah’s as at her apartment. Better, in fact, because it was so quiet. So, whatever service Noah Cade wanted—within reason, she reminded herself—she’d provide it, and not just because of the money.
“I think that could be arranged,” she said. She’d have to go home and get fresh clothes or else do a load of wash since all her stuff was dirty. But other than that there was no problem staying over.
Oh, except for the fact that I’ll be sleeping under the same roof as a man who
takes my breath away. A big, tough dude who, despite his apology the other night, looks at me with predatory eyes.
“Great. That way you can help Cristina, too, if she needs it. I won’t be home until close to midnight. Even later if we go extra innings.”
Inside, Teddy chuckled. Cristina would probably rather quietly expire in her room than ask Teddy for help. “Absolutely,” she said with a smile and began to break eggs into the mixing bowl. She braced her left hand on the counter as she cracked the eggs against the edge of the bowl with her right.
Noah stared down at her hand for a moment before raising his eyes. “I’d like to hear the story of what happened to your finger sometime. If you feel like talking about it.”
Instinctively, Teddy gazed down at the stump between her index and third fingers and sighed. She’d been surprised that he hadn’t mentioned it before. Everyone always asked, sooner or later. “It was just a dumb childhood accident on the farm. I’ve grown up with only nine fingers, so it doesn’t bother me much. Probably the biggest inconvenience is that I can only use my right hand to flip somebody the bird.”
When Noah laughed, it was a deep, hearty sound that vibrated through Teddy’s core. She liked that laugh very much. “Now that is a big problem,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s a real bitch when I’m driving,” she said sardonically, “since I can’t seem to go more than a few blocks without railing at some other driver.” She dropped the eggshells into the disposal and washed her hands thoroughly.
“I’m not going to let you off that easy. What exactly happened back on the farm? How old were you?”
She gave a little snort as she started to beat the eggs. “I was six, and a little too curious, just like you are now.”
He grinned as he held his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Okay, it’s obviously a state secret. I give up.”
She shook her head. “I was kidding. Look, you know how farmers get grain up into a silo, right? With an auger? Yeah, well, my dad’s auger in those days was practically an antique and not properly guarded, so when I put my hand near the chute…uh, into it, actually…well, you get the picture.”
Noah grimaced. “No way to reattach the finger?”
Teddy snorted. “No way to find it. But it probably made a nice little meal for some rodent hanging out in the silo.”
“Jesus, Teddy, that’s gross.”
“You wanted to know,” she mocked.
Noah stood up and eased around the corner of the counter to open the microwave. The unit’s drawer silently slid out at the touch of his fingertip. “I’ll nuke the bacon while you do the eggs.” He reached a long arm around her to snag the package of bacon, brushing her butt in the process. “Why don’t we make enough for the both of us? I eat alone a lot of the time, so it’d be nice to have company.”
Teddy froze for a moment at his glancing touch, inhaling his musky masculine scent. The scene felt both domestic and incredibly intimate—with Noah barely dressed and their bodies touching as they worked together to make breakfast. “I’m not really hungry,” she managed. “I had some yogurt and cereal earlier. Besides, an athlete like you can handle all those extra calories. I can’t.”
“Come on,” he scoffed, his lips quirking up into a grin. “You’re so slim and toned it ought to be illegal.”
When he ran his hand gently down her side and rested it on her hip, Teddy sucked in a startled breath. The warmth of his hand penetrated her shirt and felt wonderful, but it scared her, too. “Uh, Noah, what was that you said the other night about our working relationship?”
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re right, but you should stop being so irresistible.”
Though her legs felt boneless, Teddy forced a laugh. “You’re just happy I’m feeding you.”
“Yeah, there’s that, too. I can’t cook worth a damn, though I can sure microwave the hell out of bacon.” He stared layering the bacon strips between paper towels.
“Did your mom teach you how to cook?” he continued as Teddy started to grate the cheddar. “Farm girls all learn how to cook, don’t they? At least they all seemed to back where I grew up in west Texas.”
Almost eight years later, Teddy still felt a stab of pain whenever someone asked about or mentioned her mother. Fifty years from now, if she was still on this earth, she knew she’d still feel it. “Sure she did. I doubt if there are many farm families where the only daughter isn’t expected to do her share of cooking. And cleaning. And barnyard chores. And anything else that needs doing.”
Noah punched a few buttons on the microwave until it started up. “Do you get home much?”
Teddy had told him earlier that she’d grown up on a farm in Susquehanna County, about three hours from Philadelphia. “Maybe once a month—certainly not as much as my dad would like. Neither he nor my brother can cook worth a damn.”
Noah frowned as he picked up his mug and took a drink. “Your mom’s gone?”
Involuntarily, Teddy’s hand doubled its speed as she raked the cheese up and down the grater. “She died about six years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Teddy,” he said from behind her.
Not wanting to get weepy, she didn’t turn around. “Thanks. It was rough at the time.”
And it still is. Who gets over losing their mother at nineteen? She put down the grater, dropped a slab of butter into the omelet pan and turned on the range.
“Cancer?” he guessed.
Teddy shook her head. “Heart attack.” She added milk and a little salt and pepper to the eggs and started to whisk the mixture as if her life depended on it. Her mother had made a fantastic omelet and had taught her that you had to beat the living hell out of the mix if you wanted it fluffy. “Her family had a history of heart disease, but it was still a shock.”
Shock? It had turned Teddy’s life upside down. She’d withdrawn from SUNY Binghamton so she could stay home for a semester to help her dad cope with both his grief and the farm. The “semester” had then turned into the better part of three years.
“She must have been young,” Noah said. His eyes were filled with more sympathy than she’d expected, as if he could comprehend a loss like she’d suffered.
“Forty-seven.” Teddy said softly as she poured the egg mixture into the heated pan. Though she refused to dwell on it, she’d wondered ever since if she’d inherited those genes and could look forward to a similar fate.
“Bacon’s nearly done,” he said. With the microwave located so close to the range, their bodies kept touching briefly when either of them moved. “We have something in common, though I guess the impact was different for me. I lost my mom, too. She was twenty-nine when she passed, and I was only two years old, so I really only know her from pictures.”
She gazed up at him and couldn’t think of a single coherent thing to say to such a numbing revelation. “Oh, God, Noah, that’s awful.” She poked at the eggs until she had a perfect pancake shape in the pan.
“Hard on my dad, because it happened just like that.” Noah said, snapping his fingers. “She was out riding her horse on the ranch when somehow she fell off and smacked her head on a rock. No riding helmet.” He started to break the crisp bacon into small pieces. “I just wish Dad hadn’t gone right out and married the bitch who calls herself my stepmother.”
Teddy almost dropped the spatula. Noah’s tone had hardened to stone in a fraction of a second. “Why don’t you stop pulling punches and tell me how you really feel about her?” she said in an attempt to lighten him up again.
“Cute, but I’m not smiling because there’s nothing good I can say about Samantha Cade. Well, other than that she gave birth to the little brother I love.”
Teddy flipped the omelet. She didn’t want to press him but couldn’t manage to contain her curiosity. “How did you and your father get along after she married your stepmother? It must have been a tough family dynamic under those circumstances.”
Noah reached around her and grabbed the coffee carafe, refilling his mug. “Dad
hated that Samantha favored Levi so…openly. So, he tended to lean in my direction whenever Levi and I had a problem. He and Samantha would duke it out, with Levi and me caught in the crossfire.”
The omelet was nearly ready. Teddy filled the centerline with the bacon chunks and grated cheese then folded it in half to finish. “It’s a miracle that it didn’t drive you and your brother apart.”
“Nah, Levi’s a good guy. All he’s ever wanted to do is please Dad.” He snorted. “Wonder why, huh?”
“Can you hand me a plate, please?” Teddy lifted the omelet pan from the burner.
Noah reached into the cabinet behind him and pulled out one of his heavy, gold-rimmed white plates, holding it out so she could lift the omelet onto it. “You said your family has a ranch?” she said, thinking the father must have some serious money, too, just like his son. “What does your father do?”
“He’s an engineer and a businessman. So is my brother.” Plate in one hand and cup in the other, Noah went back to the other side of the counter and sat down in front of his paper again.
Along with his curt response, by burying his nose in the paper Noah seemed to be making it clear that he didn’t want to continue talking about his family. But Teddy couldn’t resist one more question. “From what you told me, it’s not surprising your brother followed in your father’s footsteps. But what about you? How does your father feel about you being a baseball player?”
Noah shrugged as he swallowed a mouthful of omelet. “He’s fine with it, at least as long as I’m not beating the Texas Rangers,” he said with a hint of a smile. “By the way, this is a hell of a fine omelet, Teddy.”
“Thanks.” As the word left her mouth, Toby padded into the kitchen and stuck his nose in Noah’s lap, sniffing up at his plate. “Somebody else clearly thinks it must be good, too.”
Noah sighed as he patted the big dog’s head. “Great. Just what you want in your lap first thing in the morning—dog slobber.”