“Time to go back home, maybe buy ice cream on our way,” I offer, trying to cheer her up. She shakes her head.
“Slushies,” Porter counterparts. “You love them.”
She does. When we go to the gas station and head down to the convenience store to visit him, Harper begs for a small size slushy. She promises to behave for the rest of the day, but they’re empty promises that fall through as she’s on a sugar high after only taking a few sips of it.
“I like slushies,” she confirms, releasing her tight hold and giving me a smile.
My happy girl doesn’t return for the rest of the evening. She remains glued to Porter, who stays with us until they go to sleep.
“Thank you,” I tell him, as we walk down the stairs.
“Some days I miss my mother, too,” he says. “After losing a parent, the fear of losing someone else stays with you for a long time. I learned that during therapy—I was twenty-eight.”
“Patience and love,” I add, as if I guess he’s about to say that. He nods. “So where are you originally from?”
“Here and there,” he answers, his dark eyes looking sad. It’s nagging me to push him for more details; I just have to find the right question. “What part of Colorado are you from?”
I shake my head, huffing with frustration because he’s doing it again. Turning the conversation around and making it all about me. This time, I can do the same, switch it so it is all about him. “No, I’m from Charlotte.”
“North Carolina, right?” I nod. “I’ve been there once, boring city. Two days and I found nothing to do in town.”
“Impossible,” I retort. “There’s plenty, it’s all about looking for the right place.”
“No, the two nights I searched for a good night club, I couldn’t find any.”
“Hmm, I wouldn’t know about the night life,” I slump my shoulders. “After graduating from high school, I moved to Colorado for college. My parents bought a condo in a retirement community in Florida and the only times we went back to Charlotte were to visit my mother-in-law.”
“Your parents retired early.” He cocks an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Were you the baby of the house?”
“No, I’m an only child. My parents met when Mom was thirty-five and Dad was in his early fifties. At forty-two, my mother thought she was having signs of early menopause. Instead, she was having me.” I laugh remembering that my father always joked about being his early retirement present. He took a sabbatical to care for me when I was a baby, while Mom continued working. “Of course, they made sure I was their only ‘oops baby’. Not because they didn’t love me, but they were too old to have little ones.”
“I don’t blame them, you look like you were trouble back in the day,” he says, laughing. His guard is down and I enjoy this Porter. I’d give anything if he could stay like this all the time. “Imagine having more like you.”
“I did. When I was a child, I begged them to give me a little brother, or a sister.” Remembering those days are fun now, but back then, I wanted to scream at them for not giving me the only thing I wanted, someone to play with. They both had their careers and couldn’t imagine taking more time off from their schedule to tend to more than one child. “It was hard growing up alone with them. Most of the time they treated me like an adult instead of their child. But they’re loving, and at some point we understood each other.”
I abstain from telling him about the times I snuck out of the house to go to parties or went to my friend’s house to drink, because they wouldn’t let me have my own fun. They were afraid that I’d drink like the other kids my age. Which I did, and sometimes I smoked. I also smoked weed a couple of times. They held a tight grasp when it came to my social life. Thinking back, maybe my parents were the reason I looked into moving out of Charlotte for college. My dad wanted me to go to the same place he taught for decades. I couldn’t fathom the idea of being Dr. Grant Oliver’s daughter for four years. The same way I couldn’t imagine working while my children grew up under the care of some stranger.
“Sounds like a boring childhood, doesn’t it?” He nods. “We had our hobbies. Other than watching the Discovery channel and the History channel—hiking at Crowder’s Mountain Park was my favorite. They fed my love for nature; bought me a nice camera and I shot pictures of everything that I saw during our weekend hikes.”
“You miss them.” It’s not a question but a statement.
“Yeah, even though we talk often over the phone, I miss them,” I confess, looking down at the carpet.
The nostalgia for my parents isn’t the only thing that’s making me wonder about the past. Thinking about those years makes me wonder where I lost Mackenzie the woman with plans, goals, and dreams.
“Are you going to be okay?” I lift my gaze and he’s checking the time. “My shift starts in ten minutes. I’ll be back before you have to go to work.”
“Thank you,” I say, wanting to say much more, but not knowing the words that’ll express my gratitude. Instead, I touch his hand and squeeze it. He squeezes it back. “For everything.”
“Thank you,” he repeats back. “The three of you have brought some light into my life. Get some rest.” He lifts his hand, almost touching my face, but he hesitates and leaves without saying another word.
The doorbell rings right at eight thirty in the morning. I know who it is before I open the door. Porter. He’s wearing a leather jacket, a white button down shirt under it, and a pair of jeans. His friendly smile, as usual, is the first thing that greets me. After a few months, Porter and I have become friends. But there’s also some kind of attraction swirling between us. Often I find him watching me, winking at me, or just giving me a sexy smirk. I can’t help but smile back at him. At times, I find myself thinking about him. His coffee-colored eyes, that manly smell of his.
Every time I see him, something inside me stirs. It’s not only the outside. He’s just as beautiful on the inside. To say he’s wonderful doesn’t begin to describe him. He’s patient with my children, my aunt, and at times, even with me. Before I head to work at the godforsaken hours of the night, he comes to my house to keep an eye on Harper and Finn, so my aunt doesn’t have to wake up late at night. In the morning, he prepares them breakfast and walks with Harper to the bus stop.
Finn isn’t talking yet, but he can follow along Old McDonald animals. I want to think that imitating them is a promise that someday something will change. That he’ll come back to me. Then there’s my little Harper who is now a social butterfly. Not sure if it was the change in scenery, Aunt Molly, Porter or a combination but as Mom and Aunt Molly said, “things would get better in Portland.” Of course, I still miss Leo. They say it gets easier with time. But no, it doesn’t. He’s all I’ve known and loved since I was a teenager. It’s hard to look beyond our relationship and our old life. My heart might get a glimpse ahead, but my mind stops it with the reminder of what it could’ve been. Like when I look at Porter.
“Hey,” Porter says, as his fingers tilt my chin and our gazes lock. “What’s with the long face?”
“Hi,” I respond, with a small voice. “My mind got trapped where it shouldn’t, not today anyway.”
“Damn right.” He bends down kissing my nose. My breath hitches with the gesture. Damn it, what’s been happening between us? It’s nothing deep or serious but the stolen caresses and gentle kisses . . . they confuse the hell out of me. “Where’s the birthday girl?”
“Porter!” Harper yells, racing outside the house, leaping into his open arms. He sings happy birthday to her with that beautiful voice of his that makes me swoon like a teenager in heat.
“Are we ready to go?” He asks, setting her back on her feet.
“Yes, yes!” She jumps up and down and runs back inside the house.
We both enter the house. Porter shuts the door and Finn comes running toward him, jumping into his arms. “Good morning, sport. Are you ready to have fun today?” Finn nods, hugging his neck.
I turn to the c
ouch to finish getting ready. I grab my infinity scarf and my jacket, hoping that I won’t need anything heavier for the day. “What’s the plan?” For the past week, we’ve been planning to do something special for my sweet girl that will keep her mind occupied. Porter said yesterday night, “Leave it to me.” I am, but I have to know.
“Seaside. It’s a small town an hour and a half from here. Close to the northern coast,” he explains, lowering Finn to the ground. “There’s an aquarium where the kids can feed fish to the seals and so many more activities that by the time we finish, they should be ready for bed.” The last word emphasized just when he reaches for the bottom corners of my jacket and helps me zip it as if I couldn’t do it myself. The slow movement of his hands gliding all the way up my torso makes me tingle all over. As it reaches the top, he lifts his hand, tucking a loose strand from my ponytail behind my ear. My mouth parts and I can’t remember how to breathe. Fuck, it’s just a freaking zipper, what is wrong with you today, Mackenzie? “What do you think?”
I bob my head in agreement, as there’s not one word I can come up with to answer his question. I can’t think. Confusion. That’s the only word that pops inside my head. To settle back down and act as the grown woman that I am, I walk to Finn who is now kneeling down while drawing on his new coloring book. “Time to go, baby, we’re going to celebrate Harper’s birthday.”
“Yes, my birthday.” She’s running down the stairs holding her jacket and Finn’s too. “Can you tell me now what the surprise is?”
Porter shakes his head, takes Finn’s jacket away from her and helps him put it on. “Time to go. If you have a lot of fun, I might give you your birthday present.”
Present, the best magic word there is to make a seven-year-old do whatever we want her to do.
Porter carries Harper’s sleepy body. Finn’s head hangs on my shoulder, his eyes half-asleep. After feeding the fishes, riding the bumper cars, the carousel, and walking along the arcade playing all the games they had, we were exhausted. We had dinner at the Astoria and rode the trolley. We missed the Maritime museum, roller-skating and ice cream time, but they were too fatigued to continue walking. The promise to go back there soon made the kids happy. At least Harper, who jumped up and down when we told her that would be our next outing.
Our next outing . . . when did we become this little family that shares so much together? Should I look more into what is going on between Porter and me?
“Babe, I’m settling Harp on her bed. Get them ready for the night while I head to the garage for her present. Did you change her bed with the new sheets?” Babe? It takes a minute for what Porter called me to register. He said it so naturally I don’t think he realized what he said. He’s left me stunned, so I just nod as he leaves the room.
In the mean time I hurry before he’s back with the presents. Harper has been asking for her own room and, of course, that’s close to impossible. My job only covers the daily expenses, but I hope that next year I can find a position that pays better. I sold the house in Colorado, but I don’t want to use the little money that I made for a down payment to buy another house. At least not until I’m working at a place that gives me better benefits and of course, an increase in salary.
She wants a pink room with a dollhouse bed and flowersu. Porter came up with a few ideas that included a dollhouse headboard that he made. We bought decal flowers that will go on her side of the room and some farm animals that will go on Finn’s side to make it fair. For his birthday next year, Porter wants to build a farmhouse headboard. Unless his interest for animals is gone and we’ll have to rethink the theme.
“Thank you for my birthday, Mom,” my sleepy Harper murmurs as I tuck her in bed after putting on her pajamas.
“I love you, baby,” I whisper and her eyes close again.
And while Porter moves her bed to set the headboard, she remains asleep. When he’s done, I set the new soft pink comforter down and we put the decals on top of her night stand so she can decorate with them tomorrow morning. Maybe Porter was right; we should have done this last night. Waking up to a new room on her birthday would’ve been a bigger surprise.
“Thank you, for everything you did today,” I whisper, as I make sure both of my kiddos are properly tucked inside their beds. “The room, the trip, everything. You know the area well. Do you go out often?”
He gives me his signature shrug and I’m hoping this is one of those rare occasions when he’ll confide in me.
“No. My foster parents’ home is in Washington State. Not far from here,” he says. The nostalgia he carries when he talks about them is infiltrating the air we breathe. “Their parents took us—me and their triplets—there a couple of times. James and Janine were cool with me.”
“Sounds like the family is lovely.”
“Let’s go, you need to sleep.” Porter takes my hand and guides me outside the room. The conversation is over before it began. So much for him opening up to me. At this rate, I’ll die before I get to know him better.
“Don’t worry about me, I took a day off today,” I respond. “I’m rested.”
He lifts my hand and kisses the inside of my wrist. “I wish I could stay, but I have to go to work.”
I don’t want him to go, but I don’t tell him that. There’s no reason why he should stay with me tonight—or ever. Unless I count the fact I feel alone and cold today—more than usual. That being with him makes everything less . . . Everything is easier to cope with when he’s around. The loneliness dissipates.
“You okay?” I nod. “Are you sure? Because the last thing I want to do is leave you alone when you need me.”
“Yeah, I’m just tired,” I lie, because I do want him to stay longer. “Thank you again, for everything that you did for us today. Try to rest after your shift.” With a final goodbye, he leaves the house, and I regret not asking him to stay a little longer.
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Molly, my landlady asks as I put on my leather jacket. “Did something happen between you and Mackenzie?”
I roll my eyes. She’s been trying to fish for information since Harper’s birthday. I tilt my head watching her as she guesses why I’m leaving early, or if something is going on between Mac and me.
“You have a date,” she states without hesitation.
“Did you find a woman? Or is it a guy? I’m okay if you’re gay, but that takes away the chances of us having a relationship.” She winks at me.
I laugh, because this flirty woman will never take any conversation seriously.
“I have to work, Molly,” I say wiggling the door handle. “Have a good one.”
There’s more to the story. Tomorrow is Halloween and I’m going trick-or-treating with Mackenzie and the kids. Harper invited me and since it’s the first time they’re celebrating since Leo—Mac’s husband—died. I accepted without hesitation. It doesn’t hurt that I adore Finn and Harper, or that Mac is great to be around.
Yes, keep saying that, Porter. She’s a good friend, great to be around . . . maybe soon I’ll accept that I’m attracted to her. Hell, I think I’m falling in love with her, just as I’m falling for her children. Stepping outside, as I turn towards their home, I spot them. Mackenzie and Finn are walking toward me. Her hazel eyes find mine. Her smile appears naturally the moment I wave at her. The beautiful creature never fails to take my breath away. It’s the tenderness in her face. Petite perfection that looks great wearing a pair of sweats or a sundress.
“Leaving so soon?” She comes to a halt right in front of me. “Thought it was your turn to cook dinner?”
“Left it in the crock-pot.” I bend to pick up Finn, who extends his little arms toward me. “Hey, sport, are you ready for tomorrow?” He nods. “Where’s Harper?”
“A playdate,” Mac informs me, her smile widens. “She’s finally making new friends. How about you, did you have dinner?”
I shake my head as she frowns and her small hand reaches my chin. Those happy eyes are now harboring worry. “The
food won’t be ready for another hour.”
“Tell you what, since we’re not going to the park today,” She takes Finn in her arms and continues, “We’ll visit you and bring some food. I hate when you don’t eat.”
“You spoil me,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “How about we make it seven, that’s when I take my break.”
Her cheeks turn a slight shade of red. She flusters easily when I compliment her, caress her, or give her a kiss. Some days I live for those stolen moments. Things between us are progressing slowly. At least I want to believe that there’s something building between the two of us, something that if I protect it, and nurture it, might grow to be . . . everything for us.
“Seven it is then,” she mumbles.
“It’s a date.” I wink, turning around and leaving her in the middle of the driveway.
Fuck, sometimes we behave like two teenagers. But how much heat can you add to a relationship when her children are always around. Plus, I want this to be significant. And the only significant relationship I’ve had was with AJ Decker when I was a kid. My conversations with any other women went as deep as your place or mine?
I rub my face before crossing the street. I’m wondering if I’m doing the right thing. Wondering if I’m ready to start a relationship. It’s been years since I’ve been close to anyone that doesn’t have initials after their name and charge two hundred dollars an hour to listen to the story of my life. Mackenzie Brooke made me step outside the safe area I stayed in for so long. The many questions she asks, just like Harper, her little girl, have started to chip at my defenses. Their curiosity is adorable and I can’t resist either one. God knows I’ve tried several times.
Mac and her little ones are like a gift. They make me feel as if I belong to them, like if I work hard, they could belong to me some day. Fuck. I might dare to say that I’m starting to love them all. I want so much more from her. From them. Questions remain in front of me like a wall. We are recovering from a loss. Both different losses, but are we ready to take the next step? She doesn’t talk about her husband a lot, but I just don’t want to fuck up what we have.
Undefeated (Unexpected Book 5) Page 8
