by JM Stewart
Steph’s eyes popped open. She blinked for a moment, then rolled onto her back and pulled the covers up over her bare chest. “Shit.”
“Yeah, shit. Get dressed but stay here. I’ll see if I can get rid of them.”
Steph shook her head, eyes widening now with panic. “They have to know someone’s here, Gabe. My car’s in the driveway.”
He halted midstride halfway to the bedroom door and wiped a hand down his face. “Son of a bitch.”
How the hell did he get himself out of this one?
Already on her feet, Steph plucked her panties off the floor and stepped into them. “I came over for breakfast and spilled coffee on my shirt.”
He dropped his arms, shoulders rounding. The whole prospect of sneaking around just exhausted him. He turned sideways to face her and flung a hand in the air in frustration.
“But I’m in here with you. Supposedly changing my pants.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Stay here. I’ll figure something out.”
He closed the bedroom door behind him, then strode down the hallway. As he emerged into the living room, Char came into view. She sat on the couch, gaze glued to the cartoons on the TV. Their playful noise filled the air, easing the knots in his chest a fraction. Good. Maybe she hadn’t heard Steph after all.
He turned his head. Molly was in her usual place whenever she came over—in his kitchen. She currently appeared to be setting up the coffeepot. As he rounded the breakfast bar, she darted a glance over her shoulder. “Morning, sunshine.”
He shot her an irritated frown as he crossed the space to her, keeping his voice low enough only she would hear him. “I thought you said you’d call before you came over.”
Molly studied him for a moment, then let out a quiet laugh and closed the lid on the coffeemaker. She stabbed the ON button and turned to lean back against the counter. “How was I supposed to know you’d actually bring your date home or that you’d keep her here for more than one night? I take it by this cold coffeepot that she’s still here?”
He dragged a hand through his hair, his stomach lurching.
Molly shot him a mischievous grin and nudged him with an elbow. “Go you.”
“Ha ha.” He inclined his head in the direction of the living room. “What the hell do I tell her?”
The coffee began to drip into the pot, filling the kitchen with the aroma of the fresh brew. His stomach rumbled, and Molly turned to the cabinet over the coffeemaker, pulled open the left side, and got down two mugs. “You could just be honest with her.”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Dad had a sleepover. Yeah, ’cause that’s a conversation I want to have with my ten-year-old.”
Molly pursed her lips and shook her head, pulled out the sugar bowl and lifted the lid to check the contents. Then she bent into a low cabinet. “It’s a conversation you’re going to have to have with her sooner or later if you really want to start dating, Gabe. She’s ten, and she’s in advanced classes at school. She will figure it out eventually. For now I’ll take her to the bakery to pick out something for breakfast.”
“I’m not sure I want to do this again.” He dragged his hands through his hair, holding his bangs back off his forehead. “Christ. I’m not sure my heart can take it.”
Molly let out an entirely too-pleased-with-herself laugh as she refilled the sugar bowl. “Just wait till she starts dating.”
He shot her a sideways glare. “Not even remotely funny. She can’t date until she’s thirty.”
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Dad.” Molly clapped him on the back as she moved around him, heading out of the kitchen. As she rounded the breakfast bar, she called out to Char, “Hey, sweetie. Dad’s all out of eggs. How about we go get him some of those muffins he likes, from that bakery down the street?”
“Okay.” Char turned her gaze from the television to Molly and nodded. As she and Molly made their way to the front door, Char glanced out the front window. “Whose car is that in the driveway?”
Gabe’s stomach flipped. Panic set his heart hammering in his ears. He didn’t have a fucking clue how to answer that.
Molly wrapped an arm around Char’s shoulder and leaned down, a conspiratorial tone to her voice as she guided them toward the front door. “His date. They must have had so much fun Friday night, he invited her over for breakfast. But Dad forgot to buy eggs. So we’d better save him and go get him some of those muffins.”
Gabe rolled his eyes. Of course Molly would invite Steph to stay for breakfast. No doubt she wanted to check out his date.
Char shook her head as they stepped outside. “He never ’members to go shopping.”
The door shut behind them, closing off the rest of their conversation. Gabe sagged back against the counter and blew out a breath, dragging a hand down his face. Jesus. He wasn’t cut out for this sneaking around crap. Now came the hard part: he had to tell Steph.
He pushed away from the counter and made his way to the bedroom. Inside, Steph sat on the end of the bed, fully dressed. Her back was ramrod straight, and she had her hands folded in her lap, but anxiety danced in her eyes as she looked up at him.
He stopped in front of her, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I have good news and bad news.”
She blinked. “Okay….”
“They’re gone. For now.”
She lifted a brow. “Why do I hear a but in there?”
He plastered on the brightest smile he could muster. God, here went nothing. “You’re supposedly here for breakfast, but I forgot the eggs. They’re going down to the bakery to get some muffins, which means they’ll be back.”
“And they’re expecting me to stay.” Steph sat staring at him, but her eyes glazed over.
As he waited for her reaction, his gut clenched in anticipation. He couldn’t be sure if he wanted her to tell him she’d stay…or that she had to leave. When regret rose in her eyes, however, disappointment sank in his stomach. She didn’t want to stay.
“Sorry. I know this isn’t what we agreed on, but Char’s ten. We couldn’t exactly tell her the truth.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave a helpless shrug. “I wasn’t expecting them to come back so early.”
Steph leaned forward, braced her elbows on her knees, and ducked her head into her hands. “I’m not good with kids. I work with divorcing couples. You know, things like who gets the house?”
“Then don’t worry about it. I’ll tell them you had a family emergency. I’m sorry they put you in this position.” Heart in his sneakers, he turned, intending to head back into the kitchen.
“Gabe…”
He stopped at the bedroom doorway but couldn’t bring himself to turn around. What the hell could he tell her? Admit it disappointed him that she didn’t want to stay and he hadn’t a fucking clue why? What good would that do, except make her more uncomfortable than she already was?
The bed creaked, and her quiet footsteps came up behind him. When he forced himself to face her, she settled a hand against his chest, her shrewd gaze working his face. “You’re disappointed.”
Damn. Clearly he was still transparent to her. “Yes, I’m disappointed. We didn’t get to have breakfast before you left. It kind of feels like I’m kicking you out, and that just sits wrong with me. I meant it when I said I don’t know how to do this. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
He pushed away from the doorway, calling to her as he headed for the kitchen.
“You should go. They’ll be back soon, and I can guarantee Molly’s going to give you the third degree.”
He was halfway through pouring himself a cup of coffee when Steph leaned against the counter beside him. She gripped the edge behind her and looked over at him. “It’s been eleven years, but you still get the same look on your face when something’s bugging you. Want to talk about it?”
He let out a harsh laugh and sipped at his coffee. It burned a path down his throat, but the dose of caffeine gave his brain the jolt he needed. “No.
”
“Come on, big guy. Talk to me.” She leaned sideways, bumping his shoulder.
He heaved a sigh and gave in, because his gut was tied in knots, and Steph was…Steph. Damned if he could resist the lure of her. His marriage to Julia had worked in large part because they’d allowed each other a measure of privacy, the space to be individuals. They’d only fallen in love there at the end. Her getting sick had brought them together. Yet for all of its challenges, their relationship had worked.
Steph had always left him feeling open and raw. Vulnerable. She was addicting and terrifying.
“This just became a whole lot more complicated than I anticipated. My daughter now knows you were here, and she’s going to have questions I haven’t a clue how to answer. This whole parenting thing doesn’t come with a fucking handbook.”
He pushed off the counter and straightened, staring out the window at the gray clouds blanketing the sky. Julia had always handled shit like this. She’d also left him alone with his private thoughts, never tried to pull them out of him the way Steph always managed to do.
Steph came up behind him, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, lessening his irritation.
“We probably should have just gone to your place, but you made me laugh, and I forgot myself.” He shook his head, disgusted with himself, and sipped at his coffee. “I wasn’t thinking much past getting lost in you.”
And he had. Too much so.
Steph remained silent a moment, but her thoughts filled the space between them. He couldn’t be sure whether or not he wanted her to voice them.
“I’ll stay.”
Surprised by the soft agreement, Gabe glanced back. Steph had turned to the coffeemaker and was pouring the steaming liquid into one of the mugs Molly had gotten down. Like it was any other morning. Like their cozy weekend hadn’t just imploded. Hadn’t she just told him she wasn’t good with kids? He’d gotten the clear impression she didn’t want to stay. So what changed her mind?
Deciding he had to know, he turned to face her. “Why would you do that?”
She turned, glancing at him over the rim of her mug as she took a sip, eyes dancing with playful impishness. “Just so happens I don’t actually have anywhere to be this morning.”
He turned back to the window. He knew a line when he heard one, but if she didn’t want to tell him the truth, he wouldn’t push her. “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.”
She released a long, heavy breath, the sound one of defeat and acceptance. “All right. You want the truth?”
He tossed a smile over his shoulder. “That might be nice.”
One corner of her mouth quirked upward, recognition and amusement lighting in her eyes. It didn’t escape his notice that her mug trembled as she lifted it to take a sip, though. Or that she turned to gaze in the direction of the living room instead of looking at him.
“You could have shut me out, but you didn’t. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to be so straightforward with me, except you’ve been nothing but since we met in the park Friday night. Truth is, I needed this weekend. All of it. I’m grateful to you for that. You sound overwhelmed.” She shrugged, a soft pink rising in her cheeks. “I’d like to help.”
Gabe could only stare for a moment. Once again, she was that vulnerable woman who pulled at all those deep places inside of him. That woman scared the hell out of him. Being with her was so damn easy. She simply accepted him at face value.
He set his coffee mug on the breakfast bar and crossed to her, cupped her cheeks in his palms, and tilted her face to his. She stared at him, eyes liquid and tender and so goddamn vulnerable. “I needed that, too. More than I can tell you. But I can’t ask you do this.”
“You’re not. I’m offering. Clearly the thought of facing her is eating at you, and to be honest, I hate that it does.” She settled her hands on his pecs, her skin warm and soft. “Let me help.”
“I owe you.” Too damned stunned by her generosity, he leaned down, brushing his mouth over hers, then released her. “I need to go put a shirt on. They should be back soon.”
Chapter Seven
Two days with him, and she was already in over her head.
Steph’s gut clenched as Gabe disappeared around a bend in the hallway. She’d gone and extended their time together. As he’d left the bedroom, he’d gotten that all-too-familiar look on his face. Gabe had always tended to bottle his emotions, and like the last eleven years hadn’t happened, she’d done what she always used to—offered to help. Clearly she hadn’t learned her lesson at all. A weekend fling with a nice guy she could handle. Not to mention it had been a chance to do what she’d spent eleven years wishing for—to reconnect with him. If only for a few days.
It was supposed to be just a damn weekend. Yet here she was, volunteering to stay for breakfast with his daughter. What could she do, though? Leaving him to deal with the aftermath by himself seemed cruel.
The low rumble of a car engine drifted in from outside, and her heart launched itself into her throat. She hadn’t a damn clue how to relate to a ten-year-old.
Stomach tied in sickening knots, she moved around the breakfast bar and took a seat. She willed her hands to stop shaking and sipped at her coffee, hoping the dose of much-needed caffeine would bolster her nerves.
Gabe came up the hallway then, tugging down a navy T-shirt as he moved. As he came to a stop at her side, she set her coffee on the counter and pulled a hand through her hair. “Do I look like I just rolled out of bed?”
The right corner of his mouth quirked upward, those hazel eyes dancing at her. “You do have a ‘thoroughly fucked’ look about you.”
“That helps. Thanks.” She rolled her eyes, but his teasing eased the knots in her stomach. Only by a fraction, but she’d take it. “How is it you’re not coming out of your skin?”
“Because as I was dressing I reminded myself that she’s my daughter. I see her every day. That’s what I’m choosing to focus on.” He moved around the breakfast bar and picked up his own coffee, peering at her over the rim. “Relax. She isn’t going to notice or care whether or not you’re perfectly put together. All she’s going to care about right now is that Dad has a breakfast date.”
Steph gave a bitter laugh. “Again, that doesn’t help.”
The front door opened and then closed again with a quiet snap. Steph’s whole body tensed until her shoulders ached. She sat straighter on her stool and clutched her coffee mug to root her. God. Here went nothing. The performance of a lifetime.
Plaster on a smile and pretend it’s your best day. It’s how she got through everything.
Gabe came around the center island and slid onto the stool beside her. He bumped her shoulder with his, his voice meant only for her. “Relax.”
Her mug trembled as she lifted it to her mouth. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
A thin redheaded girl and a short brunette emerged into the main room of the house. The girl stopped at Gabe’s side, peering at Steph with wide, curious eyes. The woman moved around the breakfast bar and into the kitchen.
A broad grin slid across Molly’s face as she set a white bakery box on the counter. “I’m so glad to meet the woman who finally got my hermit of a brother out of the house.”
Steph had only seen pictures of Molly before, back when she’d known Gabe in college. Molly had been a teenager then, but there was no mistaking the familial resemblance. She had the same greenish-brown eyes and dark curls Gabe had.
Steph moved to slide from the stool, but Molly shook her head and held out a hand. “No need to get up. I’m Molly, Gabe’s sister.”
Steph shook Molly’s hand, plastering on a smile she prayed wasn’t wobbling. “Steph. Nice to meet you.”
The girl had yet to say anything, only stared. Steph squirmed inside but did her best not to show it. Gabe was a father. God, the word seemed so foreign to her. Nothing demonstrated how much he’d changed as this moment right here.
Gabe swiveled sideways and turned to hook an arm
around the girl. Steph suddenly felt like a third wheel and completely out of place. A stranger in a strange land. A cold sweat moved across her skin, and she clutched her shaking hands on her thighs.
Gabe gave the girl a soft smile. “You chatter at me all morning, every morning. Now suddenly the cat’s got your tongue?” When she gave him a shy little shrug, he rubbed the girl’s back and turned to Steph. “This is Char.”
Steph’s stomach roiled so hard she was afraid she’d puke. Taking a deep breath, she drew up the image of her office at work, pulled the power of her profession around her like a shield, and stuck out her hand. If she could deal with cranky judges and cocky attorneys, she could talk to a ten-year-old.
“Nice to meet you. I have to say, you don’t look anything like your father.” She let her gaze roam the girl’s face. “Well, except maybe the eyes. Those are definitely Gabe’s eyes.”
Char blinked for a moment, then slipped her hand into Steph’s, shaking it like she’d done it a thousand times before. Despite the girl’s clear nervousness, she had a sure, strong grip. “I look like my mom. She had red hair, too.”
As she pulled her hand back, Steph picked up the easy conversation thread. Thinking of Char like a client calmed her nerves a bit. She made conversation with people all the time. “Your mom must have been very pretty.”
Char dropped her hand, seemed to study her for a moment, darted a glance at Gabe, then drew a breath. “Yeah. She died.”
Gabe casually turned his stool to face the breakfast bar, where he picked up his mug. His acute awareness prickled in the air around them. Even Molly, who, up until this point, had busied herself with getting out plates and napkins, seemed to still.
Steph drew her shoulders back and focused on the sad acceptance hanging on the girl. Here, at least, they had something in common. She gave the girl a sympathetic frown. “Your dad told me. I’m so sorry. You must miss her very much.”
Char gave a sad little nod. “Yeah. She had a tumor. But Aunt Molly says she’s in heaven now, so she’s all better.”
