by Amy Andrews
“C’mon, Finn.” She dropped her arms and held out her hand to her son. “Let’s go do some finger painting.”
“Oh, Mom… Can I please watch some more sports with Cole?”
“I think you’ve seen enough sports for one day.”
Her emphasis left Cole in no doubt what she thought about boxing—certainly not one she wanted her kid to witness. “But we were having fun.”
Jane dropped her hand to her side. “Finger painting is fun.”
Finn didn’t look like he considered finger painting fun. At least not in comparison to Cole, television, and popcorn. He turned beseeching eyes on Cole. “Tell Mommy how much fun sports is.”
Cole almost laughed out loud. He didn’t know Jane’s sporting preferences, but right now, if he had to guess, he’d say she wasn’t a fan of any. But there was something about the childlike desperation in Finn’s eyes that tugged hard somewhere around Cole’s middle.
How could he say no to that? Glancing at Jane, he said, “Look…I really don’t mind him being here with me. And we can watch something else.” He picked up the remote and changed it to the channel he knew was showing cricket. It was an old one-day match between the West Indies and New Zealand that Cole had seen a few years ago, but he doubted Finn would care. “There’s no violence in cricket, and it’s bound by strict rules of etiquette.”
Which was broadly true. Cricket wasn’t known for being a bloodbath. Sure, there was some smack talk going on between the opposing teams, and players might occasionally injure themselves and draw blood, but it was generally very suitable for children.
“Oh yes.” Finn clapped, his eyes lit with excitement. “I want to watch cricket, Mommy.”
Jane shook her head, but, egged on by Finn’s enthusiasm, Cole leaped in to play his trump card. “Look. How about this. He watches two hours of cricket with me, and then he can finger paint with you.” She opened her mouth to object, but Cole plowed right on. “Come on, Jane, think about it. You can do a couple hours’ work on the floor.”
She closed her mouth abruptly, and Cole knew he’d found her Achilles heel. “Two. Whole. Uninterrupted. Hours. During the day.”
She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, which was distracting as fuck, her gaze moving from Cole to Finn to the cricket, then back to Cole. He wanted to say you know you want to but didn’t think she’d appreciate his cockiness. Those prickles of hers were never far from the surface, and Cole was pretty sure cockiness caused them to unfurl. “You can go to bed two hours earlier tonight.”
He doubted she would if she was as behind as he figured, but she had to be pretty wrecked from the hours she was keeping. Not that she looked it.
There was more lip chewing as Jane, obviously torn, weighed her options. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“I’ll be so good, Mommy.”
“He’ll be fine,” Cole said. “Really.”
She kind of sagged a little, and Cole swore he could see a weight lifting off her shoulders. “Okay, well…thank you. I really appreciate that. But only two hours.” She wagged her finger at Finn for emphasis, but Cole couldn’t help but think it was for him, too, and there went that schoolmistress thing again.
“And only cricket.”
She was addressing him this time. She’d dropped her finger, but he felt it mentally keeping him in line. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her eyes went a little round at him ma’aming her, and there was a definite look that arced between them in that second. And a pulse in the air that stayed with him long after she exited the room.
Chapter Four
Despite setting the alarm on her phone, Jane kept a close eye on the clock because she still didn’t feel right about leaving Finn in Cole’s care. She didn’t worry about his safety—it wasn’t like either of them were going to shift their asses off the couch—or even that she mistrusted Cole, because there was no way she’d have left Finn with him if she did.
She just felt guilty. The way mothers did when they weren’t there for their kid every freaking waking and sleeping minute of the day and night. Jane had tried, unsuccessfully, to shake it off over the years, but it was an almost constant companion. Maybe being a divorced, working single mom exacerbated the guilt, but she knew plenty of stay-at-home moms and women with partners who felt it, too.
Why women put that on themselves, she had no idea. Trying to be everything to everyone and feeling like they were failing at everything as the balls they constantly juggled came crashing down on their heads. This job being a classic example.
But suddenly…Cole was here.
Jane had no earthly idea why she trusted him with her son on such short acquaintance. The reality was she barely knew Cole Hauser. Yet…she did trust him. Why? Because right from the start, he’d ceded to all her requests. He’d left her bed when she’d demanded it the night he’d crawled into it, obviously in pain and looking more exhausted than she’d ever seen another human being look. He hadn’t expected her to wait on him hand and foot. And when she’d asked him to avoid them and stay away, he’d done that, too.
Not to mention that Wade had spoken very highly of him and, of course, the easy way he’d clicked with Finn from their first meeting. And, lastly, there was this absolute certainty in her gut. The one thing she’d always trusted and had never led her wrong.
Tad being a classic example.
Her gut had been hinky from the start with him, but she’d been infatuated with his skinny rocker ass enough to ignore the almost constant state of dyspepsia. And when they’d been together long enough for her to think that maybe she loved him, she’d let her hormones override this very visceral signal.
She’d sworn the day Tad had walked out on her and Finn, when he’d been not quite one year old, she’d never, never, ignore her gut again.
And her gut was telling her Cole Hauser was a good guy.
Hell, the man had just given her two precious hours. Two preciously productive daylight hours when she was alert and awake and her energy levels were high. Unlike at night, when she was so tired from her early starts and long days with Finn she could barely keep her eyes open and her productivity was mediocre at best.
She was not thrilled about Cole sitting on his ass all day and doing nothing, but that really wasn’t any of her business. Just because Tad had proven to be an idle man-baby and she really disliked lazy men, didn’t mean Cole was cut from the same cloth. She’d googled him. He was a professional athlete, or he had been. That wasn’t compatible with laziness. That took hours of training and dedication.
It took drive.
Granted, he didn’t seem particularly driven at the moment, unless she counted his appetite for Pop-Tarts, beer, and ESPN, but from what she’d read, his career was pretty much over and he’d come to Credence—to this house—to get away from things. Surely, he was entitled to exist on junk food, booze, and television and get himself a square ass if he wanted. And if he didn’t want to shave or brush his hair, well…that wasn’t any of her business, either.
Jane shook her head at that distracting thought. She would not think about the developing scruff on Cole Hauser’s jawline. She didn’t need another injured thumb! Instead, she took a moment to admire how much she’d achieved today. Hell, she’d been more productive in this couple of hours than she’d been all last night.
Removing the tiles was a painstaking job. Normally, she’d take a sledgehammer to a room full of tiles—smash them up and remove them, quick and easy. But here, in this historically significant house, they had to be pried off individually and with great care. There were areas of the parquetry beneath that were in bad shape, fragile due to age and water damage, and she had to proceed with caution.
Which meant patience and a gentle touch. Ordinarily, that would’ve been fine. Jane loved a slow reveal and knowing she was doing everything in her power to safeguard the historical provenance of a house. And s
he had allowed herself ample time to do this job.
But that had been predicated on Finn being at his father’s.
With Finn here and her time limited, she was acutely aware of how behind she was, and the urge to work faster—to catch up—warred with the imperative to take things slowly and carefully to preserve the integrity of the valuable parquetry.
If push came to shove, she knew she could send out an SOS to company headquarters in Ventura. Alonzo, who’d been with her from the beginning, would come running to give her a hand. He was currently working on another job, but it wasn’t time sensitive, and he loved parquetry with a passion bordering on zeal. She’d been sending him pictures ever since she’d started uncovering the floor, and he was already champing at the bit to see it in person.
She would have handed it over to him, too, when Tad had dumped Finn on her out of the blue, but CC had specifically asked for Jane to handle the job personally and had paid Something Old, Something New a shitload of money to ensure it.
Jane had no doubt if she’d explained her changed circumstances and Alonzo’s excellent credentials to CC that the other woman would’ve been fine with Jane bowing out. She and CC weren’t close friends, but Jane knew her well enough to know CC was a reasonable and generous woman.
She was no don’t-you-know-who-my-husband-is diva, that was for sure.
But…Jane had wanted to do the job. She’d wanted to be the one to restore this floor back to its former grandeur.
The sudden peal of the alarm broke into her thoughts, and Jane tapped it off as she sprang to her feet. Time to rescue Cole. Finn could be relentlessly chatty, and Cole was probably counting down the seconds until he could watch his sports uninterrupted.
Hurrying to the parlor, she arrived just in time to see Finn bouncing on his haunches on the Chesterfield, yelling, “Catch it! Catch it,” and Cole leaning forward at the hips, saying, “Steady man…steady,” and then them both erupting into a cheer, Finn pumping his arm in the air. As she watched, Cole turned to Finn and said, “Howzat?” and they high-fived each other.
It was like a slug to her heart as Jane stood in the doorway, too choked up to breathe—to move—as the scene of pure domestic bliss played out. This is what fathers did. Or one of the things, anyway. Sat with their kids, watched sports on the television with them, shared in a team’s victory, in a great catch or a homerun, sang “The Star-Spangled Banner” when the country won a gold medal.
And the fact Finn didn’t have this as a constant in his life—like millions of other kids did; like she’d had with her father—tugged at her gut, making her sad and achey and yeah…also a little guilty. Like maybe she should have tried harder to mend things with Tad. Maybe she’d been too harsh on him. Maybe she should’ve given him another chance when he’d begged to come back four months after he’d split despite the fact he’d gone straight to another woman’s bed.
Jesus…
Jane shook her head. Why was she even thinking that? She didn’t love Tad anymore. In fact, there were a few times it had been hard to even like him. There was one thing she knew rationally—she and Finn were better off alone than with a man who didn’t prioritize them. Who had a loose association with the word commitment. And access to groupies.
And Tad would always be that guy.
Jane wanted Finn to have a relationship with his father, and, for what it was worth, she believed Tad wanted that, too. But he had maturity issues, and until that changed—and she desperately hoped it would—she was going to have to be the grown-up for both of them.
She and Finn would be fine. They were a team. They didn’t need anyone else. Especially not a guy like Cole, who clearly had his own issues, was here for only a short time, and lived on the other side of the world.
She didn’t want Finn’s heart broken any more this summer.
“Okay, Finn.” She hurried into the room. “Time’s up, sweetie.”
Finn frowned at his mother. “Oh, but Mom!”
Ignoring Finn, she shot Cole a smile. “Thank you so much for entertaining him for me.”
He smiled back, and it was a thing of pure beauty, with his full, perfect lips curving upward, emphasizing his very distracting facial scruff. A ridiculous diamond-bright spark bounced around her belly like an electrified pinball zapping all her good bits.
“No worries. He was fine.”
Jane saw him speaking but barely heard his words—she was still so distracted by his whiskers. She’d always been a sucker for scruff. That very specific stage between deciding not to shave and just prior to complete beard. And she’d watched his jaw these past few days go from dark to darker to three-day-growth to what was now, officially, scruff.
It suited the lean angles of his face and was dark with a hint of salt in it, just like the wild tangle of curls he kept pushing back off his forehead. He looked like a really wicked angel. The fallen variety.
Yup. The man was freaking Lucifer. Great…Satan was sleeping in the room three doors down, and now she was staring.
Quit staring, you weirdo!
“Well, anyway…” she said because she had no clue what he’d said, and well, anyway seemed like it’d probably fit in any conversation. She held her hand out to Finn. “C’mon, let’s go do that finger painting.”
“Mommmm.”
“Finny.” Jane used her I’m-not-messing-around-here voice but softened it with a small smile. “We said two hours and then it was finger-painting time.”
Finn sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “Okay.” He slid off the Chesterfield, tucking Carl into his chest as he did before looking over his shoulder at Lucifer. “You want to do some finger painting with me, Cole?”
What? Jane shook her head. No. “Finn… No.” She glanced down at Cole, her gaze skimming the third beer bottle that had been added to the table, before meeting his eyes. “Cole doesn’t want to do any finger painting.”
She spoke to Finn, but her eyes remained fixed on Cole’s. He shrugged nonchalantly, but she could see the irritation lurking in his syrupy gaze. Yep, his eyes were a deep, dark brown. Maybe darker than syrup, even. Molasses, maybe. “I can finger paint.”
Jane blinked. “What?”
“Sure?” He shrugged. “Why not?”
Finn cheered as Cole stood, leaning heavily on his stick. Jane took a step back because, even with the aid of a device, Cole was overwhelmingly able-bodied. He looked like he could easily toss her over his shoulder or on his bed, which caused the kind of excitement inside her underwear that had been absent for far too long.
Yup…there was a party going on down there for sure, and all he’d done was stand up! Gah! She’d known the man for five days. Freaking hell…he really was the devil incarnate.
“If you show me where the stuff is, I can get it set up.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Jane protested.
“I know. I don’t mind. Plus, you can get some more work done on the floor.”
“Oh yes, please, Mommy.” Finn tugged on the side seam of her shorts. “Can Cole finger paint with me?”
Jane didn’t know what to say. A part of her—the mother-guilt part—wanted to dismiss Cole’s offer because she was the mom. She had to do this stuff with her son, or he’d turn into a…serial killer or something else socially undesirable down the track, right? But the other half was telling her to say yes, let Cole entertain Finn for a little longer. It seemed dumb to look a gift horse in the mouth just because she may or may not want to ride said gift horse, long and hard and bareback…
Jane shut her eyes briefly at the image. Her hormones were really taking the wheel today. When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her mouth intently, and a mad pulse flared to life between her legs.
“I really don’t mind,” he reiterated, taking his damn sweet time lifting his gaze.
Jane couldn’t deny how good it woul
d be to keep working on the floor. She had tried to do some during the day when Finn first arrived, setting up activities in the red sitting room so he could play and she could work, but all Finn had really wanted to do was help with the removal process, and the floor was too precious to let a small boy help. There were often jobs he could help her with on projects, but not this one.
Plus, Finn was four! There were plenty of years ahead where he’d have to toil and work, and she wasn’t going to ruin his childhood by turning him into some kind of mommy’s-little-apprentice! He was supposed to be having four weeks of fun and adventure with his dad—Jane certainly wasn’t going to put him to work.
But that had made her behind.
“Well…” Her teeth pressed into her lower lip for a beat or two as she considered yet another tempting offer from Cole. His gaze followed the movement. “If you’re sure?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
“Okay then…thanks.”
“Yessss!” Finn jumped up and down and hugged Jane’s leg briefly before snatching Cole’s hand, saying, “The paint’s in the kitchen.”
He started a little slower because of the cane, and Jane opened her mouth to warn Finn to take it easy, but Cole just chuckled and kicked on some speed as Finn dragged him out of the room.
Jane wouldn’t have ever said limps were sexy. In fact, she was pretty sure that was probably a really un-PC thing to think, but it certainly didn’t detract from Cole’s back view one little bit. His limp didn’t diminish his masculinity one jot. The night he’d first arrived, he’d looked rough as hell, and his leg had obviously been hurting, but, apart from then, he’d looked nothing but supremely capable. If anything, the cane emphasized the bunch of his shoulder muscles and his arm muscles on the left and drew her gaze to his ass.
Crappity crap. Lucifer in floral board shorts. That should not work.
