by Layla Hagen
"I was fired from my job two weeks after my parents passed away, and I was running around like a crazy person in the beginning. I was a mess, and I suppose first impressions are hard to shake off. They’re checking in periodically, making sure the kids are all right."
"I don't like to think about you crying yourself to sleep."
"I'm not a crybaby. It's not like I do this every night. It was just a way to let it all out, I suppose." She seems to shrink a few inches as she adds in a low voice, "I felt like a failure."
Almost without realizing, I cup her cheeks, tilting her head up so she can't avoid looking at me.
"You're not," I say automatically. "You changed your life to accommodate everything around these kids. I think you're amazing."
"You're a sweet talker."
"No, this is me being honest." I respected her from the beginning because I usually like people who are competent in their job, but in the meantime, she's shot up to the list of people I admire. Dropping my hands from her cheeks, I place them on the counter at her sides, trapping her. "When I sweet talk you, you'll know it."
"Really?" Looking first down on the left and then to the right, she takes notice that I've completely invaded her private space, but instead of pushing me away, she merely glances up at me, cocking an eyebrow. Right, she's still waiting for my answer.
"Yeah."
"Give me a clue."
"Your panties will drop all on their own."
Inhaling sharply, she tilts her head to one side, as if she suddenly found something interesting to stare at to my left. Her hair slides back with the motion, baring her neck to me. Her skin is almost translucent, and I detect a faint smell of peach, probably her shampoo or shower gel. I could get drunk on the smell of her skin, on her in general. I'm tempted to dip my head lower and trail my mouth up and down her neck, feeling its softness. I grip the counter hard, steadying myself. The smart thing would be to step back, but right now, I'm not smart. I'm taken with this woman.
"You're truly incorrigible, Christopher," she whispers.
"Does this mean you're accepting my general shamelessness and won't scold me for hitting on you?"
"I'm starting to get that it really doesn't make a difference if I scold you or not."
"And you like it."
"Now don't put words in my mouth." She juts her head back in my direction, and our mouths almost collide. She stops short of touching my lips, but she’s so close I can feel her breath, can almost taste the sweetness of her mouth. She smells like cookies.
Walk back, Bennett. Walk back.
Instead, I lean forward until I feel her breasts against my front. A current of awareness zips through us, and my control nearly snaps when her soft nipples press against my chest. She's not wearing a bra. The temptation to cup her breasts overwhelms me, and feeling her nipples turn to hard buds sends a jolt straight to my groin.
"I'd say this is proof enough," I say in a low voice, desperately grasping for some humor to diffuse the sexual tension. I come up blank on laughs but find an unpleasant topic. "I shouldn't be so close to you when I haven't even showered yet."
"Christopher," she says in a low voice, fisting my T-shirt with both hands. "I like your smell. You smell like a man."
"Oh fuck. You can't say things like that and expect me not to kiss you senseless."
Turning to me, her eyes widen just a fraction, and she licks her lower lip quickly. I barely keep myself from leaning down and sucking that lip in my mouth.
"I've fantasized about lifting you up onto this counter and burying myself inside you since this morning." Just saying it out loud makes me hard.
"Oh." She sucks in her breath, squeezing her thighs together.
"You're the sweetest woman I've met, Victoria," I tell her honestly.
"And you're the most bizarre man I've met."
That one unexpected word breaks the spell. Through a haze, I step back. Victoria immediately crosses her arms over her chest, masking her nipples. They were showing nicely through the fabric of her shirt.
"Bizarre? Please elaborate."
"I didn’t mean it in a bad way."
"I can’t think of a single time I heard the word bizarre to describe something in a positive way."
"You take your time to come here on a Saturday to help Lucas, you guessed my favorite ice cream flavors, and… I just meant you keep surprising me."
No idea why she chose those two particular things, but they probably mean something to her. An honest man would tell her my sister Alice specifically told me about the flavors, but… not being honest seems smart right now.
"I believe the word you're looking for is perfect, not bizarre."
"You forgot to add cocky to my description."
"It runs in my family. You can't hold inherited traits against me."
"Is that so?" She runs her fingers through her hair, shaking her head. A loud alarm makes us both jump, and she turns her attention to the oven. "Second batch of cookies done."
A delicious smell fills the kitchen as she takes them out, placing them on the counter.
"Lucas said you like to experiment."
"Yeah, this time I included a few with pumpkin." She leans over the counter, inspecting her work.
"Interesting. Can I taste?"
She glances at me over her shoulder, a satisfied smile spreading on her face. "Brave, aren't you?"
"I like to live dangerously. And I'm always a fan of spicing things up."
A red hue spreads up her neck as she hands me a cookie. It's still hot, but I'm impatient, so I bite into it almost immediately.
"Hey, this is good," I say, unable to hide my surprise. "So how come you do this every weekend?"
"Lucas also told you that?"
"Yeah."
She remains quiet for a few seconds, busying herself at the counter, her back to me.
"Mom used to bake every Saturday morning. I loved how it made the house smell. All warm… like a home."
She and I have that in common.
"I like to keep that tradition," she adds.
"See? More proof that you're amazing. And yes, now I am trying to charm you."
Victoria laughs heartily, turning to me. "My panties are still on, Bennett."
"Challenge accepted."
The tension between us is rising to dangerous levels again, but the sound of footsteps and voices cut right through it. Seconds later, Lucas bursts inside the kitchen.
"The new batch of cookies is ready. Awesome." Without further ado, he heads to the counter, attacking the cookies.
"I'd better go shower."
Sienna and Chloe enter the room, joining their brother by the counter.
Grabbing my gym bag, I say, "Sorry to interrupt the cookiefest, but would anyone care to point me to the shower?"
"It's down the hall, second on the left."
***
"I had a great time today," I tell Victoria later, as I'm preparing to leave. I usually plan the hell out of my weekends, be it friend visits or working out at the gym, only leaving a few hours unscheduled in case my family is up to something spontaneous—and they always are. It might sound weird to plan time for spontaneity, but I'd never get to keep up with what everyone in my family is doing otherwise. I want to make the most of every free moment, and I found that's best achieved by planning ahead.
Today was different. I cleared my schedule until dinner and came here without any expectation beyond teaching Lucas some moves and making Victoria blush. It's been a wildly different day compared with how I usually spend weekends, but I found it surprisingly nice, and I don't want it to end. I have a hunch anything that involves Victoria would have that effect on me. And the kids are definitely a bonus.
"Thank you for doing this, Christopher."
Damn it. My name in her mouth is a trigger. She opens the door for me, and I step outside but linger in the doorway, inches away from her lips.
"He's going to kiss her," Lucas whispers. Damn. He and the girls were sup
posed to be in the kitchen. I can't see him from my position in the doorway, but he's obviously watching us.
"No, he won't." That was Sienna.
"Kissing is gross," Chloe chimes in.
Jesus. Where are they? I peek behind Victoria, but I still don't see the little buggers.
"But maybe we'll have another sister," Chloe continues. That girl jumps to conclusions fast.
"She'd be our niece," Sienna says. "Besides, kissing is not how you make kids."
"How do you make kids?" Lucas asks.
"You have to—"
Right, time to break up that conversation. Victoria seems to shake off her stupor, swirling around.
"Kids, eavesdropping is not polite," she says.
"But he wanted to kiss you," Lucas says. The kiss police emerge from behind the staircase leading upstairs. "We have to protect you."
I'd be perfectly on board with his plan if he were referring to anyone else except me.
Sighing, Victoria turns to me again. "In this house, there will always be someone listening," she whispers. A strand of her hair has caught at the corner of her mouth. I brush it away with my fingers, but instead of retracting my hand, I touch her lips, watching with satisfaction as they part in surprise.
"In that case, I can't wait to see you outside of it again."
Chapter Ten
Victoria
After shutting the door, I turn on my heels, inspecting my siblings. Sienna gives me an amused, if sheepish, smile, trying to shush Chloe, who tugs at her shirt, repeatedly asking, “How do you make kids?” Lucas stares at me, arms crossed.
"We need to talk," I tell them, doing my best mom impression. "In the living room, all of you."
Once inside, Sienna sits on the ottoman while the small ones take the couch. I pace around the room, looking for the right words.
Sienna breaks the silence. "We're sorry for interrupting the moment with Christopher."
"You didn't interrupt anything," I assure them. "That's not what I wanted to talk to you about."
"What, then?" Sienna continues.
Mulling the answer over in my mind, I realize I don't have a plan. I just want to reassure them that I'll never let anyone take them away. At the same time, I don't want Lucas to realize Christopher and I talked about him. He won't appreciate it. Biting the inside of my cheek, I take a deep breath.
"So, I have a confession to make," I begin, and the three of them perk up. "Yesterday evening, I cried."
Lucas grimaces. "Christopher told you what I told him, didn't he?"
Fantastic start. Sighing, I admit, "Yeah."
"Why were you crying?" Chloe asks. "Will they take us away from you?"
Sienna throws me a startled glance, a sign she didn't know the little ones were eavesdropping when I shared my concerns with her.
"No. No one will take you away, I promise."
"I thought grown-ups didn't cry," Chloe whispers, breaking my heart. That's because Mom never did, or at least we never got wind of it.
"Of course they do," Sienna says sensibly. "They just hide it better."
"Kids, I want you to know that whatever happens, I won't let anyone take you away."
Lucas and Chloe are both watching the floor.
"What if you get married?" Chloe asks.
"What—" I begin, but my brother interrupts.
"You're old enough to have your own kids," Lucas insists. "Will you still want us when you have your own kids?"
Wow, this is going extraordinarily well. Sienna runs a hand through her hair, alarm clearly visible on her face at the fears the little ones are harboring.
"Of course I’ll still want you. I love all of you."
"But what if you fall in love?" Chloe asks.
"If I do, it doesn't mean I will love you any less, or that I will stop taking care of you." Where are they going with this?
"What if he won't like us?" Lucas asks, stunning me. "I've seen kids at my school with divorced parents. When they get a stepmom or stepdad, they hate each other."
"I promise you I won't date anyone I'm not one hundred percent sure likes you. And you also have to like him."
Lucas’s and Chloe's faces break into the biggest smiles I've seen in months, and my heart suddenly feels lighter.
***
An hour later, I’m elbow deep as I attempt to build owls for a thing Chloe has at her preschool. The emphasis is on attempt because my owls so far look like deformed potatoes. The kids are in the backyard, and I can hear them bickering from here.
“Victoria!” Sienna pokes her head through the living room door. “Can I go to the movies?”
“With whom?” I ask automatically.
“The usual. The resident weed dealer and the head of an underground fight club.”
“So, Ben and Emma?” I ask, referring to two good friends of hers.
“You got it.”
“Smartass. What time will the movie end?”
“I guess around nine. I’ll come straight home afterward.” She bats her eyelashes at me, grinning.
“Sure, go. Have fun.” She spends so much time helping with Lucas and Chloe that I’m afraid she isn’t living enough.
Soon after Sienna leaves, I get the hang of making owls. They end up looking so cute that Chloe and I build a few for our home too. I can't help wondering how Mom did it. I don't remember ever seeing her cry. Sure, she lost her temper now and again, but she always seemed in charge, as if she could handle anything life threw at her.
After we’re done with the owls, we settle in a companionable silence in front of the TV, watching a documentary about saving whales. Since it's Saturday, both Lucas and Chloe are allowed to go to bed later.
Today has been unexpected on so many levels. Christopher's presence here was everything I dreamed of, as well as everything I feared. I watched him and Lucas while they trained, and I could practically feel Lucas's self-confidence grow the more time he and Christopher spent together. The bad part is that we obviously can’t control our attraction to one another. I almost climbed him in the kitchen… while the kids could have walked in on us at any moment!
My skin heats up at the memory of having him near me. Even talking about my parents wasn't as painful as thinking about them usually is, and I have a suspicion it's all because of Christopher. He was there with me, strong, resilient, and listening intently. With a sigh, I hug my knees to my chest on the couch, trying to put the day behind me.
We're all entranced in the documentary when my phone lights up with a message.
Christopher: My mother wants to ask you something about her kitchen furniture. Is that okay?
Victoria: Sure, I'll call her right away if you give me her number.
After Christopher sends me her number, I move away from the living room into my office, where my laptop is, and call her. She answers at once.
"Hello, Mrs. Bennett. Victoria Hensley here, Christopher's decorator."
"Hi, Victoria! Please, call me Jenna. Thank you for calling me so quickly."
"My pleasure. What are you looking for?"
"I want to add some cabinets to the kitchen, but the shop I've bought from doesn't stock the model anymore. I haven’t been able to find anything similar enough."
"If you tell me the brand and model number, I'll look for it. I'm sure I'll find what you need." Jotting down what she dictates, my mind already races with potential shops that might still store it. Opening my laptop, I'm about to type the model in the search engine when Mrs. Bennett changes topics.
"Christopher told me you've got quite the soccer player on your hands."
"Yeah, my brother, Lucas, hopes to make his school's team. Christopher was very sweet to help him today. Dad was a great player, but unfortunately, neither my sister Sienna nor I were ever interested in it."
"I'm sorry for your loss, child."
"Thank you. It's been harder for the little ones." My throat clogs up. Damn, I'm overly sensitive today.
"Pain is pain, no matter the ag
e. And having to raise three kids on your own on top of that is no small feat."
"You've raised nine. You're the authority on that." Tucking my feet underneath me, I can't help asking, "Were there days when you felt overwhelmed?"
"Every single day. Hard doesn't even describe it. It was beautiful, but raising them felt like an impossible task most days. Don't be hard on yourself. One day you'll look at them and won't believe they’re adults."
Aunt Christina often tells me I’m too hard on myself when I share my concerns, but I’ve always feared she’s just cutting me too much slack. Hearing this from Jenna Bennett helps tremendously.
"You raised wonderful adults," I tell her in all honesty. I've only met Christopher, Alice, and Pippa, but I think it's an educated guess to believe the rest of them are just as great.
"Sometimes I wonder if they all grew up in the same house. My children are all so different, and also the same."
"How do you mean?” I ask.
“The oldest trio always had a deep sense of responsibility, rarely stepping out of line. The younger ones were more relaxed, also because they had more opportunities. Christopher and Max pulled so many pranks, I swear they're responsible for all my white hair. Because the older ones shouldered most of the pressure, the younger ones had more freedom. Pursuing hobbies is one example. Max was in a band in college. Christopher and Alice were so good at soccer in college that they had professional scouts asking them to join teams."
"How about the youngest ones?" I inquire, eager to know more.
"Oh, Summer is an artist through and through, and Blake and Daniel are shameless. But they're all fiercely loyal."
I'm about to point out that Christopher is the most shameless man I've met—in a way that makes me laugh, and tingle in places I don't have any business tingling— but some things mothers don't need to know. Instead, I type in Mrs. Bennett's kitchen model in the search engine.
"Jenna, I found three shops where your particular kitchen model can still be ordered. I can call them up and find out which one can deliver the models you want quicker."
"Oh, no need, child. Just tell me the name of the shops."
After I rattle off the names and phone numbers, we say good-bye. And it's only after clicking off that I realize Ms. Bennett has asked me exactly one question about her kitchen, and it was something she probably could look up herself on the Internet. Of course, it could be that she's not using the Internet much, or Christopher might have asked her to make up a bogus reason so I'd call her and she could give me a pep talk, given my mini-meltdown today. The way she gently spoke about the days when everything felt impossible, the reassurance in her voice…. The more I think about it, the more I lean toward the second option. And here goes the tingling again, only now it's taking over a more dangerous part of my body—my heart.
