by Layla Hagen
I do believe him. I cannot even begin to imagine the horrors he must have witnessed, even if indirectly. I also believe there are many wolves in sheep's clothing, but I’m not one of them.
“The best advice I can give you is not to stray from the straight and narrow path.”
Chapter Eight
Christopher
When I walk up Victoria’s porch on Saturday morning, I can hear a war waging inside the house.
“Chloe, you can't wear that shirt again. It's dirty. Take it off now.” Victoria's voice sounds stern but tired.
“But I like it,” Chloe retaliates.
“It's dirty and smelly,” Lucas says. “Why do you want to be smelly?”
For a few minutes, I wait outside the door for the spirits to calm down, but things just seem to escalate. It's best if I announce my presence, even if I'm twenty minutes early.
The second I ring the bell, the voices die down but then start again, now as low whispers. After a few hurried orders of “behave” and “pick your socks up off the floor,” the door swings open.
"Hi," I say.
"You're here early," Victoria exclaims. She wears a bright orange robe she desperately tightens around her. Clearly she meant to change before my arrival. Something is different about her this morning. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks utterly disheveled. She looks down at the gym bag in my hand as if considering something.
"Should I wait outside, or in my car?" I joke because she seems to need some lighting up.
"God, no." If possible, she gets even more flustered than before, shaking her head and opening the door wider. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a mess this morning."
"There's no need to explain yourself to me," I assure her as I walk inside. The little devils are nowhere to be seen. "Where did the kids disappear to? I heard them when I walked up onto the porch."
"Chloe agreed to change when she heard the doorbell. Sienna's helping her. Lucas went to change into soccer-appropriate clothes. Do you need to change?"
"Nah, this will do. I'll change into a new shirt afterward." I point to the gym bag, in which I packed a towel, shower gel, and a new shirt.
"Sorry for my outfit. I meant to change into something decent, but…."
And maybe it's because she seems to get more distressed by the second, but I resort to the one thing I know will take her mind off it.
"Hey, I'm a big proponent of indecency. You'd make my day if you told me you're wearing a camisole underneath that." Seeing her blush, I can't help leaning in and adding in a slight whisper, "And no panties."
My words have the desired effect of making her laugh. "I'm not even awake enough to come up with a witty reply to that. Let's go in the kitchen. I'll make you a sandwich."
As I follow her, I actually make an effort to avoid ogling her round, perky ass. Her robe is tightened around her middle, which highlights her other curves more than I wish it would.
"Do you ever leave the house wearing just your robe?"
"I know my choice of clothes is oddly colorful sometimes, but I don't go out of the house in what's practically underwear."
"Not even to get the mail or something?"
She turns around as we enter the small kitchen. "What's with all the questions?"
"Just wondering if any of your neighbors saw what I'm seeing right now. I might have to kill a few if the answer's yes."
"Territorial much?"
Her question takes me by surprise, and damn, I haven't been territorial with a woman in a long time. Victoria keeps surprising me. Not only that, she makes me surprise myself, and that has never happened before. Maybe this is why, despite my best efforts, I can't tone down the flirting. Okay, scratch that. I'm not even making a decent effort. If anything, I'm looking for any opportunity to make her blush.
A slow smile spreads on her face. "Just think about all those men who saw me in a bikini."
I love this woman's spirit and talent for banter. Still, that doesn't make me less of an ass. All I want is to prop her up on this counter, bury myself inside her, and lure sounds of pleasure out of her delicious mouth.
"How do you drink your coffee?" she asks, snapping me out of my dirty, selfish thoughts.
"Black. I thought you were a tea person?"
"I am, but you aren't, so I bought a bag of coffee. It's the least I can do since you're willing to spend your day training Lucas."
The kitchen is small but practical. Placing my gym bag in a corner, I stand by the window, where I have a view of the backyard. There's a goalpost in place already.
A few short minutes later, she hands me a cup of steamy coffee and pours herself tea, then opens her fridge.
"What do you want on your sandwich? I have ham, cheese, vegetables…."
"Ham and cheese will do."
Shortly afterward she hands me a sandwich. I bite into it while I'm waiting for the coffee to cool down a few degrees since I don't have the patience to sip it slowly. Usually, I down it in a few gulps. I formed the habit over the years, drinking my coffee quickly before anyone interrupted me with a call or a meeting.
"Are you waiting for that coffee to cool down so you drink it in one guzzle?"
"Please tell me you don't have that weird people-reading ability all the women in my family possess. I'm a dead man otherwise."
"I'd love to say yes, but I'm a pretty bad judge of character. Something in your body language just tipped me off, I suppose."
"You're right. I usually wait until the coffee is almost cold, and then drink it in a few gulps. It's the quickest."
She squints her nose, looking more adorable than ever. "So you're not just a coffee drinker, but a lukewarm coffee drinker?"
"The worst kind," I confirm. "I don't drink it for the taste. In fact, I don't even like it, but I need the caffeine boost."
She holds up her cup, tipping it slightly in my direction. "Is tea sounding more attractive?"
"Never."
"I challenge you to take your time and enjoy your coffee in peace today. Admire the sky, the flowers."
"Maybe I'll just admire you."
She smiles coyly, sipping her tea. I sip my coffee.
"Hey, this is actually good. I wasn't expecting it since, you know…."
"I'm a tea drinker?" Her smile fades. Sadness settles over her as she sits at the small kitchen table by the window. "Mom and Dad were big on coffee. I learned to do it just the way they liked it when I was a teenager. They had this cute routine on weekends, which always started with them drinking coffee in the morning. They'd sit out on the porch, enjoying each other's company. Our old house also had a porch."
"The old house?"
"The kids and I grew up somewhere else. We had to sell the house after our parents passed away. The mortgage was more than I could handle. But we love this place too."
She offers me a smile, but her eyes are glassy, and damn if I don't want to call a real estate agent and buy that house for her and the kids.
"Tell me more about your parents," I encourage. "If you want to."
"They were the loveliest people. Mom was my best friend, and Dad was just… he was a character. Always up for a good laugh. They loved each other so much. Sometimes I caught them looking at each other, and there was so much love there. I sort of always assumed that love faded away with time, and the relationship was based on respect. But my parents were in love, even after all that time."
"My parents are like that," I tell her. "They still finish each other's sentences sometime. It's weird for all of us to watch. Also, it explains why there are nine of us. Though to be fair, there are two sets of twins."
She chuckles, which is what I was hoping for; seeing her sad makes me want to walk over and take her in my arms. That's a bad idea for many reasons, not least of which is I'd end up kissing her.
"Do you talk to your parents often?" she asks.
"Yeah. In fact, I'm heading to their house for dinner tonight. We're very close. Since I returned from Hong Kong, I swear Mom is
hogging me even more than before."
"Good. Let her do it and enjoy it as much as you can. You never know when you won't have the chance anymore." Shaking her head, she adds, "Well, aren’t I a ray of sunshine today?"
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just a rough morning. Sorry you had to walk in on a war."
"Technically I just eavesdropped."
She still looks uncomfortable, and I have a hunch I know why. Moving from the window to sit at the table, I say, "You don't have to put on the professional facade now. I'm not a client you need to impress, just a friend showing Lucas how to score. Ground rule for today: relax."
"You want to set the rules in my house? You've got balls."
"You have no idea. Do we have a deal?"
"Okay. Are my eyes red?" she asks, somewhat alarmed as thunderous steps indicate the kids will burst inside the kitchen any second now.
"I can't tell. They look beautiful, as usual."
Before she has a chance to reply, the three kids enter the kitchen. Sienna carries Chloe, who appears to be in a great mood. Lucas bounces in wearing his training gear, ball under his arm.
"Hi, Christopher," Lucas and Chloe say at the same time. Sienna just nods.
"Hey, everyone," I greet. "Lucas, ready to kick some ass?"
Sienna and Victoria shoot daggers with their eyes at me, but it's not until Chloe giggles, informing me, "We're not allowed to say bad words," that I realize where I'm wrong.
Lucas's grin is contagious. "Yeah, let's go in the backyard." We walk out of the kitchen, and as soon as we're out of the girls' earshot, he says, "And kick ass."
***
Lucas's enthusiasm magnifies once we're in the backyard, which is small but gives us enough space for practice. Putting the soccer ball down, he hunches his shoulders, dipping his head downward. That's a sign of lack of confidence.
"Let's do some warm-ups," I say.
Lucas stares at his toes, then back up. "Do you have time to warm up and give me pointers?"
"Yeah, kiddo. Don't worry."
He attempts to rush through the motions, obviously eager to get to the good part, but I make him do it again. Eventually, he gives in, doing everything by the book.
"Now, show me what you know, and we'll go from there."
I observe him for the next few minutes, in which he self-consciously performs the routine he learned at school. I make mental notes of the moves he does wrong and the techniques he can improve.
For the next few hours, I teach him everything I think might be useful for tryouts. He absorbs everything with a voracity I recognize, and it reminds me of the long afternoons Alice spent practicing with me. Yeah, my sister was, and still is, hands-down the best soccer player in our family. When I was in high school, I finally shoved my pride aside and asked her to train with me. I desperately wanted to be the best on the team, to impress a girl.
Watching Lucas, I can tell there's something strong driving his motivation, but given his age, I suspect it's not a girl.
Four hours later, we're both tired. We only stopped for brief breaks to drink water. Now we're wolfing down sandwiches Sienna brought to us. I can tell Lucas would like to keep going, but he's exhausted.
"Do you think I have a shot at making the team?" he asks. "Dad would be so proud of me if I did."
Ah, and here’s his reason. "Yeah, you do. When are tryouts?"
"In two weeks."
I try to remember if I have important meetings scheduled late in the evening from now until then. Screw it! If I do, my assistant will just have to move them around. "How about if I stop by a few times after dinner until your tryouts? I could give you more tips, watch you train."
Lucas freezes in the act of biting into his sandwich. "That would be so cool."
"I'll work out something with Victoria, then."
He nods, eating his sandwich at lightning speed.
"Hurrying somewhere?" I inquire. "You'll choke."
"Yeah, I have to shower and then water the flowers," he explains proudly. "I always do that on Saturdays."
I stare at him, slightly thrown by his enthusiasm. "You're a good brother. When I was your age, I tried to weasel out of my duties as often as possible."
Lucas sits up straighter, squaring his shoulders. "I'm the man of the house. I can't wise out of my duties."
"Weasel," I say automatically.
"Yeah, that." After a brief pause, he says, "I want to help Victoria, so they let us stay with her."
"What?"
"That guy from social services was here yesterday. Victoria is always upset after that. I think they want to take me and Chloe away. We're adopted, you know."
Stunned, I mull over an answer in my mind, but nothing brilliant strikes me. "I know, but Victoria is your sister, and she loves you," I say simply. "She'd never let them take you away."
Judging by the apprehension on his face, he really fears that possibility. He glances toward the kitchen window before saying in a small voice, "Last night I heard her crying in her room. Victoria never cries. What if something bad happened?"
I stop chewing, the thought of Victoria crying not sitting well with me at all. The kid breaks my heart. I take one long look at him, trying to put myself in his shoes, but the truth is, I didn't have a care in the world growing up, while he’s lost his parents. I suppose this creates some kind of insecurity running deeper than anything I know.
"Look, your sister loves you 100 percent. People sometimes cry without something bad happening. Maybe she just had a long day. Work can be stressful, or you just run into a jerk in traffic—"
"Bad word," Lucas informs me.
"Sorry! You run into a bad person in traffic."
"But how can I help?"
"Sometimes there's nothing you can do, but there is one thing that almost always helps. It's the big secret to dealing with women."
He shifts closer. "What's that?"
"Chocolate."
"Huh?"
"No matter if they cry or laugh, chocolate is always welcome."
"You sure?" he asks suspiciously.
"Buddy, having chocolate ready for every occasion is Survival 101. Trust me, I have three sisters."
This seems to convince him.
"So what do you do when someone makes your sisters cry?" he queries.
"First I give them chocolate. Then I have my sisters' backs. I protect them. That's what brothers do."
His face instantly lights up.
Chapter Nine
Christopher
The house smells like heaven when we step inside. I'm guessing Victoria's been baking some kind of pastry. I don't recognize the smell, but it transports me back to when I was a kid and Mom baked for us. This is what a home should smell like.
"What's she baking?" I ask Lucas as I follow him into the kitchen.
"Cookies. I hope she made some with cheese again."
"Cookies with cheese?"
"Yeah, we have cookies every weekend, and she likes to experiment."
We walk in on what appears to be happy hour in the kitchen. The girls are drinking lemonade and laughing their asses off. Sienna sits on the windowsill, munching on a cookie. Chloe sits on the table while Victoria braids her hair. Neither sees us come in, and I take this moment to study Victoria in silence. She changed into jeans and a tank top, and there is something incredibly sweet about the way she plants little kisses on top of Chloe's head while doing her hair. I like this tender, nurturing side of Victoria. But then again, I suspect there's little I wouldn't like about her.
"Boys," Sienna exclaims when she notices us. "I didn’t see you there. Which one of you will shower first?"
"Which means we stink badly," I say.
"How come I'm not allowed to be smelly, but they are?" Chloe inquires, looking honestly crestfallen.
"They played soccer, and they’re sweaty," Victoria explains patiently. "But they'll shower."
I pop a few cookies in my mouth. Damn, they're good.
"Chri
stopher said he can come by after dinner until my tryouts," Lucas announces, puffing his chest forward.
Victoria turns to me. "But don't you have work and meetings?"
"I'll shift things around," I assure her. The bright smile she offers me is the best damn payment in the world.
"I'll go shower first," Lucas says. After stuffing himself with cookies, he rushes up the stairs. Sienna and Chloe leave the kitchen too. After the girls leave, I take advantage of the fact that we're alone and ask, "Can I talk to you about Lucas?"
She frowns, nodding. "Sure."
Delicacy has never been my strong point, but I try to recount what Lucas told me in the gentlest way possible. Leaning with her back against the counter, Victoria becomes smaller with each word, and I feel like a jackass for making her feel bad, but she has to know.
"That poor thing. I had no idea he feared…. I'll talk to him. Thank you for telling me this."
"Why were you crying? If it's the social worker's fault, just give me his name. I can take care of him."
Unexpectedly, she smiles—and damn, I love how it lights up her entire expression. "You don't even need his address?"
"Nah, a name is all I need to find him. I'm resourceful like that."
"Quite a savior, aren't you?"
"If you want me to be."
"Thank you for the generous offer, but it's not necessary." Her smile falters. "The meeting with him wasn't even as unpleasant as it could’ve been, but child services aren't convinced I'm a fit guardian. They're keeping an eye on us, and it's exhausting to always be afraid that if I make one mistake, I could lose the little ones. But I never mentioned that to Lucas and Chloe, just to Sienna. They must have eavesdropped."
"How can child services doubt you?"
