Monica ran her finger down the tiny length of Skylar’s hand. “I’m so sorry I haven’t stopped by. We’ve been going non-stop with the bakery and the festival.”
Gabe nodded to Michael. “Yeah, I owe you big, cousin. But Monica’s not kidding. We’ve been going a mile a minute between the bakery and Oktoberfest. I hate that I haven’t been able to visit.”
Lindsey’s face lit up. “You guys should come over now! My godmother is going to watch the babies in a few hours. Em’s giving her first performance since Billy and Skylar arrived, and they invited Nick and me to tag along. We were planning on going home and making an early dinner while the guys shoot some hoops before we had to leave.”
“I thought I recognized you,” Monica said to Em. “I remember hearing about you when I was younger. You’re the famous violinist.”
A blush colored Em’s cheeks. “I don’t know about famous, but yes, that’s me—and you guys should come over.”
“I don’t want to intrude,” Monica said.
“It would be no trouble at all. We’d love it if you joined us,” Lindsey added.
“Definitely!” Em nodded then turned to Gabe. “And you, too, chef. You can sign my copy of your cookbook.”
Gabe nodded. “It would be my pleasure.”
Lindsey clapped. “Please, say you’ll come, Monica!”
She smiled at her friend. “How could I say no?”
The late afternoon sun cast shadows across the lawn, and billowy, blue-gray clouds floated lazily across the big Kansas sky. A light breeze had picked up, carrying with it the melody of a haunting violin piece coming from the house next door and the bounce and swish of Michael, Gabe, and Nick shooting baskets on the hoop attached to the carriage house at the back of the property.
“Do you get to listen to Em play every day?” Monica asked. She and Lindsey were sitting in a pair of Adirondack chairs on the Kincade’s back porch with a perfect view of the guys. Lindsey held her daughter, and Monica held Billy, so Em could warm up before they left for her performance.
“I do! It’s wonderful having Em and Michael as neighbors. My house was Em’s childhood home. She and Michael grew up next door to each other.”
“So, this is where Michael grew up,” Monica said, gesturing with her chin toward the boxy American Foursquare style home identical to Lindsey and Nick’s house.
“That’s right.”
“I met Michael a few times during the summer after my senior year of high school.”
“When Gabe worked with you at your bakery?” Lindsey asked.
Monica nodded.
“I don’t want to make you feel awkward, but Michael told us a little bit about your history with Gabe,” Lindsey said with a gentle smile.
“That was a long time ago,” she answered. Lindsey was her friend. She hated to lie to her, but she couldn’t say anything about her relationship with Gabe. Oktoberfest was only a week away. After the event, she could come clean.
Lindsey ran a finger down her daughter’s cheek then glanced over at her husband. “I know a thing or two about long-ago loves.”
That was true. Her friend could barely stand Nick the last time she had seen her all those years ago. “How did you end up with Nick? And how did you end up here in Langley Park? I thought you were from Maine?”
Lindsey gazed down at Skylar. “It’s a long, crazy story, but we were meant to be together. It just took some difficult twists and turns for us to get here.”
Monica glanced at Gabe, dribbling a basketball. He was still in his slacks and button up shirt he’d worn for the baking demonstration. He’d rolled up the sleeves, exposing his muscular forearms. He set up a shot and threw the ball. It swished through the old hoop. He met her gaze, started to smile, but reined in the emotion when he caught sight of Lindsey.
“So, there’s nothing between the two of you?” Lindsey asked.
Monica’s gaze bounced from her friend to Gabe when Lindsey’s phone pinged.
“That should be a text from my godmother. She’s watching the babies for us. I’m so excited for tonight! That yoga class you saw us at today was the first time we’ve left the house for something other than diapers and doctor checkups in weeks!” She picked up her phone and read the message. The excitement drained from her expression. “Oh no!”
“What is it?” Monica asked.
Nick jogged over to them. “I heard your phone. Was that Rosemary?”
“Yes, she had to cancel. She’s not feeling well. She doesn’t want to risk getting the babies sick.”
Michael and Gabe joined them.
“Did you say Mrs. G was sick?” Michael asked.
“Mrs. G?” Monica asked.
“That’s what everyone around here calls my godmother.”
Nick shared a glance with his wife. “Linds and I can stay home and watch Billy so that you can go, Michael.”
“Of course, you must go, Michael,” Lindsey offered, but Monica could sense the disappointment in her voice.
“No,” Monica said. “Let me watch the babies. You all should go. You deserve a night out.”
“Are you sure? Two six-week-old babies can be a bit of a handful,” Lindsey said.
Michael turned to Gabe with a cheeky grin. “She won’t have to do it alone. I distinctly remember you saying if there was anything you could do to help you’d be happy to step up. You know, all that family guilt you’ve been harboring from missing my wedding and neglecting to come to see my kid.”
“Are you never not a lawyer?” Gabe asked with a grin then gave his cousin a play-punch to his arm. “Of course, I’ll watch Billy. I would be happy to.”
“How much do you two know about babies?” Lindsey asked.
Gabe crossed his arms. He was in chef mode. “It just takes a bit of delicacy and attention. If I can bake a perfect soufflé, I can take care of a baby.”
Michael and Nick looked ready to bust out into laughter, but they held it together. Monica didn’t know all that much either, but in the last hour, she’d changed Billy’s diaper and had given him a bottle. She was at least a step ahead of Gabe.
“They’ll be fine,” Michael said. “The babies go down for the night soon. Monica and Gabe will be mostly be sitting around.”
“That is true,” Lindsey agreed, smiling down at Skylar. “But they like hearing Em play the piano before they go to sleep each night. We leave the window open in Skylar’s room, so she can hear the music.”
“I’ve got a million recordings of Em playing,” Michael said, taking his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll send it to you, Gabe. You can forward it to Monica.”
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, Monica?” Lindsey asked, her genuine smile back in place.
“I’d be honored to babysit little Skylar. We’ll be fine.”
“Mon!” Gabe called out, knocking frantically on the door to Nick and Lindsey’s place. She opened the door with a sleeping Skylar in her arms. White trails of dried milk covered his shirt. In one arm, he held a crying Billy MacCaslin MacCarron, and the other, he had a stuffed bear, a large serving spoon, his cell phone, and a bottle tucked into the crook of his elbow. She wasn’t sure who looked more freaked out, him or Billy.
She ushered him into the house. “Billy won’t go to sleep?”
He looked at her like she had ten heads, then his expression crumbled. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I played the music. I gave him the bottle. I even tried entertaining him with the bear and the spoon.” Gabe maneuvered the bottle out from where it was tucked into the side of his body and squirted some of the liquid into his mouth like a prize fighter getting in a quick swallow before heading back into the ring.
“You know that’s Em’s breast milk.”
“F—” he began.
Monica pressed a finger to his lips. “No cursing around the babies!”
“I think I’ve broken that rule about a dozen times tonight. If Billy swears like a sailor, we’ll know where he got it.”
Monica shifted Skylar into on
e arm. “Give me Billy, and you take Skylar.”
“How did you get her to fall asleep?”
They switched babies. Gabe gazed at the peaceful Skylar Kincade in amazement.
Monica bounced Billy rhythmically. Red-cheeked and full of bluster, Billy was not a happy camper. She glanced down at his loose blanket and smiled. “I think I know what the problem is, but you’re not going to like it.”
Gabe went to squirt another stream of breast milk into his mouth and then stopped, abruptly catching himself. “I know, I know. Babies are not like soufflés. I figured that out.”
Monica led Gabe upstairs and into Skylar’s room. She set the angry baby on the changing table and checked his diaper to make sure he was dry.
“I already checked, Mon. No pee-pee. No poo-poo.”
“Are you okay?” she asked. This time she couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
“You said no swearing.”
“Watch me.” She wrapped the blanket securely around the baby. “His swaddling is too loose. Babies aren’t like soufflés. Babies are just like strudels. Happy, little strudels! They’re most comfortable when they’re nice and snug. You, chef, always braided your strudels a touch too loose,” she said, speaking in a soothing sing-song voice.
“I do not,” Gabe answered.
Monica gestured with her chin toward Billy, content in his swaddling.
“Fine,” he said with an exhausted sigh. “You’re right. I completely f—”
Monica stared him down.
“I messed up the swaddling,” he said, altering his statement.
Billy blinked, eyes heavy, then fell sleep on the changing table.
“Do you think Em and Michael would care if we put Billy in with Skylar? I don’t want to risk waking him up during the pick up.”
“Pick up?”
Gabe shook his head as if he was trying to clear out some cobwebs. “Chef lingo. It’s what we call it when the waitstaff delivers a plate to a table. Like, pick up, table three, would mean the plates for table three were ready.”
She hadn’t seen Gabe this flustered since Oma had given him a hard time about puff pastry during his first day at the bakery years ago.
She patted his cheek. “I’ve got it, chef. And, no, I don’t think Em and Michael would mind if the babies slept together.”
She lowered Billy into the crib, and Gabe followed with Skylar. They stared at the sleeping babies. Their sweet, peaceful little faces relaxed as they fell deeper into slumber. Gabe wrapped his arm around her waist as they watched the babies angle their little bodies toward each other.
“I think they like being together,” she said.
Gabe tightened his grip. “It’s just like Em and Michael.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Em and Michael have the same birthday, too. Em is like five minutes older, and she makes sure Michael knows it. They grew up together just like Billy and Skylar will.”
Monica rested her head on Gabe’s shoulder. “I like it here.”
“Me, too,” he answered.
They watched the babies sleep as a long, blissful stretch of silence enveloped the room.
Gabe shifted his hand and rubbed her back. “Let’s go downstairs. I think the babies are good.”
She gave one last look at the sleeping bundles then followed Gabe out of Skylar’s room and down the steps.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asked.
Monica shook her head. “I don’t want to wake the babies.”
“We could raid their fridge. Isn’t that a babysitting rite of passage?”
As if on cue, her stomach growled. “Let’s do it! Babies are a ton of work. I’m starving.”
“Let’s see what they’ve got.”
They opened the refrigerator and found several Park Tavern to-go boxes.
“The Kincade’s and the MacCarron’s have been calling in a lot of to-go orders,” Gabe said, sniffing a container then tossing it into the trash can.
Monica opened a pizza box, grimaced, and closed the lid. “We only have to do this baby thing for a few hours. Imagine if we had to do this around the clock? I’m actually surprised they don’t have more carry out boxes.”
“Here we go!” Gabe said, pulling out a block of cheese. “Check the pantry and see if they have any elbow macaroni.”
“You’re one of the best chef’s in the world, and all you can think of to make is macaroni and cheese?”
Gabe gave her a sexy smile and kissed the tip of her nose. “This is going to be like no mac and cheese you’ve ever had. I can promise you that.” He gestured to a basil plant on the window sill. “Pick a few of those and chop them up.”
“Basil? In macaroni and cheese?”
He pulled out a package of bacon and a stick of butter. “Trust me.”
The savory smell of the cooked bacon filled the kitchen as Gabe combined milk, butter, and a cheese trio of Gruyere, blue cheese, and cheddar in a pot on the stove along with a pinch of salt, pepper, and nutmeg. He added the cooked macaroni and crumbled the bacon into the mix.
“Taste,” he said, holding out a spoon.
Monica opened her mouth, and Gabe fed her the bite.
She closed her eyes. The creamy richness of the Gruyere, the sharp bite of the blue cheese, and the comforting familiarity of the cheddar had her groaning. “Gabe, this is—”
He smiled. “The best mac and cheese you’ve ever had?”
She released another sigh. “It is! Can we eat it right from the pot?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Remember that basil you chopped up?”
“I can’t remember anything except that bite of heaven.”
He chuckled. “We’re going to spoon the mixture into a baking pan and sprinkle the basil and breadcrumbs on top.”
He deftly transferred the contents of the pot into a rectangular baking dish, added the breadcrumbs and basil, and slid it into the oven.
“How long does it need to bake?” she asked.
“About thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes!” Monica whisper-shouted. “What are we going to do until then?”
His sexy smile was back, and his sweet boyish dimple made her head swim. “I can think of a few ways to spend thirty minutes.” He gripped her waist and lifted her onto the countertop.
“I don’t know if we should be making out in Lindsey and Nick’s kitchen?”
“We’ll be really quiet,” Gabe countered and kissed her neck.
Monica closed her eyes and entwined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I like this,” he whispered into her ear.
“You like kissing the babysitter?” she teased.
He met her gaze. “I like being here with you.”
This man. This man she thought represented her greatest mistake had transformed into her greatest love. “I like being here with you, too.”
He ran his hands down her back, gripped her buttocks, and slid her body forward. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to kiss the babysitter.”
She bit her lip. “What are you waiting for?”
He squeezed her ass, and she rubbed against him, the friction building between her legs in hot, pulsing waves. She arched forward, and he took her mouth in a scorching kiss. In a matter of seconds, they were all hands and lips and teeth, grinding together like horny teenagers. She craned her neck as Gabe licked a trail to her collarbone. A distant sound registered, a subtle click followed by a creak. Gabe, now paying great attention to the delicate skin behind her ear, didn’t seem to notice. Another creak pulled her from a lusty haze, and she opened her eyes.
They weren’t alone.
Em stood in the entrance to the kitchen in a full-length ball gown holding a violin case. “Crisis averted. I found them. The babysitters have raided the refrigerator and are currently making out on your counter.”
Lindsey, Nick, and Michael filed in.
“Hi, guys,” Monica said, untangling her legs and adjusting her blouse.
“We were just making some macaroni and cheese.”
Michael smirked. “Looks like you’re making a lot more than mac ‘n cheese.”
Gabe helped her off the counter and positioned himself behind the kitchen island. She glanced back and stifled a grin. He was still sporting a pretty impressive erection.
“So, when you said there was nothing going on between the two of you,” Lindsey said with a glint in her eye. “You meant everything was going on.”
Monica glanced at Gabe. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I think our secret is out.”
“You two are together? Like together, together?” Em asked.
Monica shared another look with Gabe. His grin and that dimple melted her heart.
Nick turned to Michael. “That’s the face of a man in love! Pay up!”
Michael shook his head. “You two just lost me twenty bucks!”
“How?” Gabe asked.
Lindsey blushed. “Don’t hate us, but after the babies were born and you two had that whole cupcake in the face thing in our hospital room, we put bets on whether the two of you would get together.”
“You did what?” Monica asked.
“Please, don’t be mad, Monica,” Nick said with an easy smile. “Linds and I thought you guys would end up together.”
“I’m not mad. Not at all. Gabe and I just didn’t want anyone to know about us. We didn’t want anything to eclipse the plans for Oktoberfest. That’s the only reason we’ve been so secretive.”
Lindsey’s face lit up. “You don’t have to worry about us saying anything. Your secret is safe. Plus, Oktoberfest is only a week away. Then what? Please, tell me you’re staying in Langley Park.”
Monica glanced at Gabe. He cared for her, but a sliver of doubt cut through her heart. Yes, they loved each other. Yes, they wanted to be together. Yes, they loved Langley Park, but they hadn’t made any concrete plans. Gabe still had his partnership in his New York restaurant. And even though he hadn’t mentioned it, she was sure the whole entertainment side of his career wasn’t completely out of the picture. She pushed the negative thoughts aside. Right now, the focus needed to be on the festival and the bakery. Everything else would come later.
She met Lindsey’s gaze. “We’re still working all that out.”
The Complete Langley Park Series (Books 1-5) Page 102
