Chapter 21
“Hey, princess.”
Lesley sat on the couch dressed for the workday, clutching her aunt’s journal as John walked in the house. “There you go with that nickname again.”
“Yes, but now it has a whole different meaning.” He leaned down and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips.
Her body felt like melted ice on a hot summer day. She was a goner when it came to his kisses. When he pulled away, she slowly opened her eyes.
“Reading another entry?”
“Yeah.” She closed the Bible and sat it on the end table by her coffee. “You know, some of these things my aunt talks about are universal for all women, I think.”
“Yeah, like what?” He sat and put his arm around her.
She leaned in to his chest, taking in the scent of him. “Well, her and Samuel just kissed for the first time, and she said she felt tingles all the way to her toes. That’s universal.”
“Is that the way you feel when I kiss you?”
“Always.” She patted his leg. “But, what’s not universal is how she writes about her father…like she was afraid of him.”
“Maybe she was.” He shrugged.
“But why?” She picked up the key on the end table. “And this key? This was in the letter your uncle gave me. What does it go to? I’ve tried to figure it out, but I can’t. There isn’t any lock here that matches this key.”
John took the brass out of her hand and examined it. Angel rubbed against his legs, then jumped and curled in her lap.
“Wow, so you and the cat are on speaking terms now, huh?”
“Yeah. He’s really not so bad.” She rubbed the feline’s head, his fur tickling her legs. A soft purr settled in the cat’s throat.
“Well, wherever this key goes, the lock has got to be small. It’s not very big.” He handed it back.
“I know.” She rubbed her temple, pain radiating all the way down to her neck.
“What’s wrong? Is the new pillow not working?”
“I thought it was, but these headaches are coming back. I’ve had one every day this past week. It’s probably just stress and lack of sleep.” She poked him in the stomach. Every night John spent with her, sleep always became an afterthought to the other things they did in the bed.
“We’ve got about thirty minutes before the crews arrive.” He slid his fingers down the side of her arm.
The man was insatiable.
Today was the day they would put in new sheetrock. Painting would soon follow and new flooring. She had studied paint and flooring samples until they all began to look the same. Maybe taking her mind off renovations would do her some good.
“Yeah, we do.” She gave him a coy smile.
“And we’ve got a really tough day ahead. I think I know a way to help relieve your headache.”
“You do?” She leaned closer. “What were you thinking about, big boy?” she whispered in her most seductive voice. “Ibuprofen?”
His fingers trailed over her collarbone. “Something else.”
“What if I don’t want anything else?”
“Oh, I think you do.” He removed his hand and leaned back on the couch. “But, you know, I may need a little motivation to get started. I’m not really feeling up to working so hard today.”
She scooted closer to him. “Really? Well, what did you have in mind?”
“I can think of something.” He wiggled his eyebrows and grabbed her waist, positioning her on top of him.
She straddled his hips as he gripped hers. His breathing escalated, and she could feel his body harden against her.
“You, know?” She placed her hands on his shoulders. “We seem to be in this position a lot lately.” Not that she minded.
“I like you in this position. I’m eye level with heaven.” He leaned into her breasts…just as the sound of a horn blast startled him. “Damn it. Who’s that?” John pulled back and peeked out the window.
Lesley hopped off his lap and ran to the door. Her heart pounded at the sight of the rental car pulling up the drive. How could she have forgotten about her father coming in this morning? The hunky contractor propped on her couch distracting her had about ninety-percent to do with her poor memory, the other ten percent split between renovations and her headaches.
She needed to get it together. While she wanted her dad to meet John, doing so when he had an erection probably wasn’t the best idea.
“That would be my dad.”
“Your dad?” John shot up and adjusted the waistband of his jeans. “Geez, Lesley. A little warning would have been nice.”
“Sorry.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “But you were with me when he called, and you’re moving pretty fast now. It looks to me like you’ve found your motivation to get some work done.”
He gave her a cross stare.
She suppressed her laughter and held out her hand. “You still ready to meet him?”
John stared down at the waistband of his jeans, his problem becoming smaller by the second. “In about ten seconds, I will be.”
“You’re going to love him. Come on.”
He reached for her hand and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “After we spend some time with your dad, we’re finishing what we started.” He squeezed her hand and pulled her to the door.
He planned to spend time with my dad?
Her decision to introduce the two had never seemed more right than in that moment with John’s hand in hers and her father beaming up at them from the driveway.
****
John slapped the steaks on the grill, the meat sizzling just the way he liked it. Instead of grilling steaks, however, he should be at the manor, working. His plans for hanging drywall hadn’t panned out like he’d hoped; the few local volunteers who joined him had been inexperienced in the art. And Lesley had spent the whole day playing catch-up with her father after they spread her aunt’s ashes around the old oak stump.
Needless to say, without her help and without the expertise needed from other workers, not much got done. One day of lost work put them behind schedule, and that wasn’t something he wanted to do to Lesley.
On the other hand, the sheer delight of spending the day with her father was more important to her than any schedule, and seeing her so happy was more important to him.
Emma had been right. If he were going to think serious thoughts about Lesley, which he already was, then he had to see how she interacted on a more personal level with his children. Her dad being in town was a bonus, because he got a chance to see exactly how she acted with her own family. The ease with which she and her father picked back up, fell into step together, proved to him their family ties ran deep.
Could she feel the same connection with my kids?
Getting involved with someone meant getting involved with their family, too, and lucky for him, Frasier seemed like an all right guy, but they hadn’t got much of a chance to talk yet. Tonight, they would. John would make sure to do everything he could to fall in favor with her father.
“Daddy, Daddy.” Rachel raced outside and pulled on his arm. “Ms. Lesley and her daddy are here.”
His arm threatened to be wrenched from its socket as his daughter dragged him away from the grill and hauled him through the house. “Okay, sweetie. Calm down.” He gently pulled his hand away from her grasp and swung his arm like a pitcher warming up at the mound. Despite her young age, the girl could hold her own in strength. Pride swelled his chest.
Lesley stood in the foyer, wearing the green blouse he had bought her and carrying Matthew in her arms. Joy expanded his already swollen chest like a hot air balloon. The afternoon sun poured through the front door, creating a halo around her head. She looked like the angel he knew she was.
“Hey, you.” She gave him a smile. “This little guy practically tried to knock me down.” She squeezed his son and tickled his tummy.
Matt threw his head back in laughter as he wiggled down her body before she placed him on his feet.
Rachel pulled on her hand. “Lesley, let’s go play with my Barbie dolls.”
“No, she’s going to play with my dinosaur,” Matthew shot back.
“That’s for boys, not for girls,” his daughter hollered.
“Hey,” he said to break up the argument.
“Guys.” Lesley knelt down eye level with the both of them. “I have an idea. How about we play with the Barbies and dinosaur together?”
“Yeah,” both of his children yelled in unison.
“Great. Go get them.” She motioned for them to get their toys.
John studied her as she watched his kids run upstairs to their rooms. She had an easy smile on her face when she flipped her gaze back to him. He couldn’t fight the excitement that expanded his heart.
This could really work.
“You have a beautiful family,” her father said and reached out his hand.
John focused on the man, and then shook his outstretched hand before he took the bottle of wine Frasier offered. “Thank you. They can be a handful sometimes, as you can tell.”
With one swift pat, Frasier slapped him on the back. “You’re doing a fine job.”
“I’ll take that.” John grabbed Lesley’s purse from her. They made eye contact and the elation he felt seconds ago replaced with a nagging concern.
Besides his sister, Lesley had been the only other woman he had ever invited in his home. The house he and Sandra had built into a home, and this was Lesley’s second time coming over. Making memories with her in the same home as his deceased wife seemed…wrong. He pushed the notion aside, and turned, placing her purse inside the hall closet.
“Hey.” Emma bounded through the door with a chocolate cake in hand, Uncle Milton close behind.
“Aunt Emma.” Matthew raced down the stairs and plowed into her. The chocolate cake wobbled in her grip.
“Whoa.” Frasier grabbed the dessert from her grasp. “We don’t want to lose that. I’ve heard how wonderful of a baker you are all day from Lesley.”
“Oh, she’s being too kind.” His sister squeezed Matthew.
“No, she’s not.” Milton closed the front door. “Emma’s won a few contests. She’s just too humble to admit it.”
“And she’s going to teach me a thing or two about the art of cooking breakfast,” Lesley chimed in.
Frasier glanced to the ceiling. “Thank, heavens.”
“Dad.” She smacked her father on the arm.
John sucked in a chuckle. In their short time together, Lesley had never volunteered to cook. Now he knew why. But, her spending extra time with his sister couldn’t have come at a better time. The women could spend quality time together, and he just might get a warm meal out of the situation. Win, win in his book.
“I saw that, mister.” She wagged a finger at him.
“Come on, Ms. Lesley.” Rachel barreled through the house and pulled her hand. “Let’s go play.”
“Yes, let’s.” Lesley winked at him as she followed his children into the living area.
“We’ll get the food ready,” his uncle said. “Kitchen’s this way.” Milton led Frasier through the house and into the kitchen.
John stood in the foyer and admired his view. Any doubt he ever had of Lesley loving his children flew out the window as he watched her drive Barbie and a green dinosaur around the floor in a pink jeep.
“Told ya.”
Emma had leaned over and whispered in his ear, her voice catching him off guard. “What? Told me what?”
“She loves the children.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, the view securing any doubts he might have had. “She does, doesn’t she?”
Emma patted his shoulder and joined the group in the living room. A huge weight lifted from his chest, only to be replaced by another as he glanced around the house. The soft grey walls, the frame around the door where the children’s height had been marked for the last six years, the position of the furniture, all little touches made by his past wife…his past life.
If he and Lesley were to have a life together, they couldn’t do it in this house, not with so much history weighing on them. He would have to sell…and despite how much he cared for her, he didn’t know if he was ready to leave all these memories behind.
****
With her legs crossed and a glass of wine in her hand, Lesley snuggled in closer to John on his back porch. Her head felt light from the expensive bottle of Merlot her dad had brought, or maybe it was being so close to this man that had her a little tipsy. Either way, the feeling was one she didn’t want to shake.
Dinner had been wonderful. Her dad and Milton had a new budding friendship, and she had never felt closer to Emma or John’s children than tonight.
While everyone else sat inside, eating cake and playing a board game, John had taken her hand and led her outside, giving them their first chance of the evening to be alone.
On a sigh, she finally admitted to herself she was falling in love with him.
The thought terrified her. It was so soon. And while she adored John’s children, the fear of being a stepmother nearly overwhelmed her. Admittedly, her anxiety eased the more she spent time with them, but still…being a mother? Those were giant shoes to fill. Was that something she could handle?
She’d never been around children and knew nothing about how to care for them. Absolutely nothing. When Peter told her he never wanted children, she had accepted it, until closer to the end when she thought a child would help their relationship. Then the universe smacked her in the face with the realization her husband had been cheating, and she took that as her sign—motherhood was not a good idea for her, especially if she thought bringing a child into a troubled marriage had been a good one.
Now, the possibility of being a stepmother loomed over her head, stirring up a bag of mixed emotions—fear being number one.
And what about the children? While they liked her as a friend, liking her as anything more permanent might be a stretch.
Her cheeks flamed beneath her skin, making her thankful for the darkness. Here she was planning a “what if” future with this man, and she didn’t even know if they would last past the renovations of Rosalyn, much less anything more serious.
But she meant what she’d said about not taking sex lightly. And he believed in them enough for her to spend more time with his children—surely that meant he wasn’t taking their relationship lightly either.
Although, while she truly cared for John, she’d moved to Bakersville to claim her independence, not fall in love with another man.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “What are you thinking about?”
“Just how happy I am being here with you.” While it might not have been exactly what she thought about, she was delighted to be by his side.
He took her wine glass from her hand and placed it on the drink table in front of them. “Are you happy? With me?”
There was no denying. “I am.”
“I’m not just some small-town fling to pass the time?”
Her heart ached. Despite her reservations about playing the role of mom, and despite him messing up her independence plan, she’d never once thought of him as a fling. “Why would you say that?”
“You’ve been through a lot this past year. We both have. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I have the kids to think about.”
As do I.
“I don’t do flings John, and if I did, I’m sure I could’ve found someone a little less grumpy than you.” She poked him in the stomach.
“Grumpy?” His chest rose and his back straightened. “I’m not grumpy.”
“The first time I met you, you scared me to death. You were so tense. Fierce.”
“Tense? Fierce? Where are these words coming from? I wasn’t tense.”
She cocked her head to the side. “You were, too.”
“Well, maybe a little. I had a lot on my mind.”
That she could relate to.
“You still do, but you’re not the same man I met a few weeks ago. What’s changed?”
“You.” He placed his finger under her chin and gently tilted her head back before placing his lips, soft and sweet, on hers.
Her brain and body became all mushy, the wonderful sensation of his kiss sending her into oblivion. When he touched her that way, held her, independence suddenly seemed overrated.
Reluctantly—and only for air—she pulled back. “What about me?”
He let out a breath. “When you first arrived, and my uncle told me you were from a big city, I figured you’d be like all those other city people I deal with in Atlanta. All those big corporations that lie, cheat, and steal to get ahead. I’ve had past high society clients nickel and dime me to death, only to fire me for some cheaper, shoddy laborer. When you arrived in that fancy car, I worried I might waste my time on you. But you…” He glanced her over and rubbed the top of her hand. “You’re not what I expected. You’re good and right.”
“Nor am I high society. At least, not now.” Losing all her money didn’t seem to matter too much anymore. Thanks to John and her great aunt, she was finding her way. Learning the value of people. Good, kind people, instead of monetary value.
“No, you’re not. You’re better.” He caressed her cheek.
“So, that explains the chip on your shoulder that you had with me.”
“Pretty much. I’m sorry. Apology accepted?”
She leaned in, her lips barely touching his. “You’re not getting off that easy.”
“I’m not?” he said against her mouth.
“No way.” She parted from his lips, the scruff of his cheek scratching her own as she whispered in his ear. “You’re going to have to work for it.”
“Can you wear the heels again?”
She giggled as he kissed behind her ear. “If you keep doing that, and promise not to shave, we might be able to work something out.”
“Ewww. Daddy’s kissing Ms. Lesley,” Rachel squealed from the window.
Her heart bounced as they both jumped. She uncrossed her legs and sat straight up, knocking her glass of wine to the ground in the process.
“Oh my gosh, she scared me.” Lesley placed a hand to her chest. They’d been caught necking by a six-year-old. How embarrassing. She stared at the overturned wineglass and bent to pick it up.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” John turned toward the window. “Rachel, go back to the kitchen and play your game,” he demanded through the glass.
The girl scurried off the windowsill and ran toward the others. The moment gone—just like her nice glass of wine that spilt all over the grass. Stolen moments with John were something she would have to get used to, and joining his family meant independence wouldn’t be an option.
She placed the unbroken glass on the table and reached for his hand again; his gaze locked on her. Warmth radiated through her body. He was her safe spot, and in that moment everything was right, independent or not.
****
“All right, kids. Time for bed.” John clapped his hands and stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Though her father, Milton, and Emma had already left the house for the evening, Lesley had asked John if she could stay, wanting to get a glimpse of his family’s routine.
Matthew tugged on her hand. “Can you read me a book, please?”
“Sure, big guy. Go pick something out.”
“Okay.” The boy grabbed a book from a basket in the living room.
“Daddy, may I have some water?” Rachel asked, her voice low.
“Me, too, me, too.” Matthew jumped, holding the book in his hand.
“Okay, fine, but one sip. That’s it,” John warned.
Why only one sip? Lesley dismissed the warning as odd and took the book Matthew quickly offered.
“You guys go get a drink, and I’ll be upstairs waiting for you, okay?” She wanted to get a head start, pulling Matthew’s covers down, as she’d never tucked a child in before.
“We’ll be right there.” John placed a peck on her lips and ushered the kids into the kitchen.
A superhero nightlight stood plugged into an outlet in Matthew’s room. She flipped the switch and pulled down his sheets. Her hands shook as she opened the book.
I can do this. I’m only reading the child a story for goodness sakes. Calm down.
Deep down, it was much more. She could be his new mother someday, and she loved John and his kids enough to try. Her dad had always read a book to her when she’d been a child. Perhaps, Matthew and Rachel would be open for her to read to them the ones she had loved as a kid. She’d have to remember to bring one with her next time.
The patter of little feet charged down the hall. Her stomach flipped.
“Ms. Lesley? Where are you?” Matthew called.
“In here.” She turned and faced the doorway.
The boy entered his room, and she patted his bed. “I turned your sheets down. Ready for me to read to you?”
Giant tears welled in his eyes. “I don’t sleep in here,” he yelled. “You can’t make me sleep in here.”
Lesley’s stomach sank as she jumped off the bed, ignoring the book sliding from her lap to the floor as she went to him.
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” John ran down the hall.
“I don’t know.” She knelt beside the little boy in the doorway of his room. “I was just waiting on him to come to bed, and he started crying. I don’t know what I did wrong. I’m so sorry.”
John glanced at the bed then down at Matthew. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay. Lesley didn’t know.” He knelt on one knee and faced his son.
“Didn’t know what?” She glanced around the room. What had she missed?
“I don’t sleep in there.” Matthew’s words broke through his sobs. “I sleep with Rachel. Mom was the last one to tuck me in. I don’t sleep in here anymore.”
“Oh, buddy. I know.” John pulled him in for a hug. “I miss her, too, baby,” he added softly.
A bomb could have exploded inside Lesley and it couldn’t have hurt worse.
He still missed his wife, the mother of his children.
Her heart split and fell, joining her already sunken stomach.
She was crazy for ever thinking she could be a mom. She couldn’t even tuck a child into bed properly. And here she was trying to make a go of it with a man who still had intense feelings over his deceased wife. Understandably so, but that small fact did nothing to help her hurt feelings. If the universe hadn’t thrown her a sign before, then this one practically bashed her over the head.
How stupid am I?
Tears stung her eyes. “I’m sorry, honey.” She rubbed the boy’s back. “I didn’t know.”
Hesitantly, Matt reached over and wrapped his arms around her. “Can you still read me the book?” he whispered.
Stay and read? He still wanted her after what she just caused?
Lesley desired nothing more than to run away, seek fresh air, and clear her mind.
She pulled back and stared at Matthew’s little bloodshot eyes. Denying him would really send this fragile child over the edge.
She glanced at John as she embraced the boy. “I-if your dad thinks it’s all right, I will.”
“Can she, Dad? Can Lesley read me the book? Please.”
“I think that would be wonderful.” He smiled at his son then at her.
Though his eyes shone with love, that hint of sadness that plagued him seconds before still lingered.
By the time Lesley finished the story, both Mathew and Rachel were still, their mouths wide open, fast asleep. She kissed the children on the head before John did the same then turned out the light.
Time to go.
Once downstairs, she grabbed her purse from the hall closet. Despite the story finally going over well, the weight of what happened still weighed heavy on her chest. She and John were both so fragile, so hurt by their pasts. Moving on…with each other. Was it such a good idea after all?
“Hey, why are you leaving so fast?” he asked.
“John.” She bit her bottom lip to keep it from trembling and wished the pressure building behind her eyes would go away.
He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry.” Fat, warm tears fell down her cheeks. “I didn’t think this would be so hard.”
“What? What’s so hard?” He squeezed her tighter.
“The kids. I couldn’t even tuck Matthew in properly.” She pulled back and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I didn’t know he slept on the floor in Rachel’s room.”
“It’s okay,” John consoled her. “I didn’t tell you.”
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honestly…” He let go and stood next to her, leaning his back on the wall. “I just forgot. Matthew sleeping with Rachel has been our new normal. Everything changed once Sandra died. Rachel has reverted back to wetting the bed, Matthew sleeps with his sister, and I’ve…well I’ve…”
“You’ve what?” She gripped the handle to her purse, the strap digging into her flesh.
He turned his head, his gaze locking with hers, and his eyes taking on a fresh sparkle. A look of hope. “I’ve learned to love again.”
More pressure built behind her eyes, and her palms sweat. He said the word. Love. She should bolt before things got out of hand. Admitting the notion out loud cemented everything they shared. Such a commitment didn’t work for her the first time. Who’s to say it could work now?
The door stood straight in front of her. Her exit. Problem was, her feet weren’t working. Even without ever hearing him say the word before, a part of her knew he did love her, but for him to admit it…
“You…you have?” She wanted to hear it again. She wanted him to really say it. Make sure it was real.
He stepped in front of her, blocking any chance of her escape. Slowly, he took the purse strap off her arm and sat it on the floor. “Yes.” He placed his palms on her arms and steadied his gaze on hers. “Lesley, I know I’m not perfect. I know I’m not what you’re used to, and I come with two kids, a load of baggage, and sometimes a minimal paycheck, but I love you.”
“Oh, John.” Her heart leaped as she stared down at the floor. Could she do this? Could she love again so soon? To a man who still hurt from his past? Could she say the words back?
A new, fat teardrop ran down her cheek. He raised her chin and placed his mouth to hers, soft and slow. In response, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he swept her off her feet.
“Don’t leave yet,” he whispered in her ear. “I do love you. Let me show you.”
When he held her like that, his woodsy scent overpowering her, and his warmth radiating into her, saying no seemed impossible. She loved him, too, loved him so much her body felt as if it were going to explode, but her head took over.
Guard yourself. Watch out.
Still, as foolish as it was for her to fall in love again so soon, she couldn’t help herself.
“Okay.” She nodded and kissed him back as he carried her into his bedroom.
She could do this. They would make this work. John was her safe spot.
More tears rolled down her cheeks as he caressed her, showing her how much he loved her. Her heart swelled with emotions she couldn’t express for him. Not yet. Her body burned for him, but a nagging thought kept rising back up over and over as she stared at his nightstand—and the picture of his deceased wife.
Would she ever really be enough?