It took about three minutes flat for Luxe to practically own me; hook, line, and sinker. He’d asked me which superhero I was, and when I didn’t answer fast enough, he stood before me, one hand on his hip and the other tapping his chin like a little grown man, then pointed at me, with more seriousness in his eyes than I’d expect from a three-year-old.

“You’re Superman,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You look like him.”

Well, if that didn’t boost my fucking ego, nothing would. “I look like Clark Kent?”

“No, Superman.”

“But Clark Kent and Super—”

“I said you’re Superman,” he insisted, his little voice strained with exasperation at my obvious incomprehension.

“Superman, it is, then.” I had to purse my lips together to keep from laughing. “And which superhero are you, Luxe?”

“Spiderman, duh!” He held his arm out toward me, flicking his wrists theatrically as though he could shoot webbing from the base of his palms. “He’s the best!”

“Agreed, little dude.” I finally pointed back toward the kitchen just as he was searching through a backpack beside his bed—with a Spiderman image on it, of course—and pulled out two action figures, one Spiderman and the other Superman. “Well I’ll be, Luxe! There’s you and me, huh?”

The little boy handed me the Superman toy, nodding emphatically.

“Do you think even superheroes need breakfast? Because I’m pretty sure your mom said that was first on our list of things to do.”

“Superheroes need good breakfasts!”

“Like what?”

“Like...” Luxe’s finger went back to tapping his chin again. “Like chocolate cake!”

I lost it, bursting out laughing without the ability to contain myself. “I must admit, I like the way you think,” I chuckled. “But I’m pretty sure your mom wouldn’t agree.”

Nevertheless, we managed to get through breakfast time, and the meal of peanut butter toast and a glass of milk even resembled real breakfast food. Okay, so we’d had to sneak over to my apartment to add just a bit of chocolate syrup to the milk, but, c’mon, the babysitter had to be cool, right?

After that, things were smooth sailing between him and I. That was the thing about young kids; they called it like they saw it, and once they were comfortable with you, you’re good to go. Anyone watching us from an objective standpoint might have thought that boy and I had known each other his entire life. If he was disappointed in being stuck with me instead of his father, he didn’t show it. In fact, the one and only time I mentioned Luxe’s dad—I had to, my morbid curiosity was killing me—the answer I received was short and sweet.

“Where’s your daddy?” I’d asked Luxe simply. We’d turned unpacking some of the boxes piled in the living room into a game, and the little boy was currently half-dangling off the side of a huge cardboard box, reaching for whatever he wanted inside it so badly.

“He’s busy.” Luxe didn’t mention him again. Neither did I.

The first time I pulled out my cell and glanced at the time, it was close to noon. That surprised me, seeing as the hours had flown by in a flurry of toy car chases, superhero tag-you’re-it (that’s what Luxe called it; not tag, but tag-you’re-it), and unpacking. Luxe’s eyelids were heavy by the time I laid him down in his bed for his afternoon nap, and he didn’t fight me on it at all.

The second time I checked the clock on my cell, my little assistant had been asleep for nearly two and a half hours, and I realized I’d forgotten to ask Leah how long I should let him sleep for.

To her credit, she’d only texted me twice to ask how things were going. No capital letters, no exclamation marks, and no emoticons. Just the question.

In response to her first text, I’d merely sent a selfie of Luxe and me, two toothy grins so big it made our eyes squint.

The second text, I sent: Fine. Just curious how long I should let him nap?

An immediate response came. Please tell me he’s not still sleeping?

I checked the time. Almost four o’clock. Hmm, obviously I should’ve known better than to let him nap this long.

Okay, I won’t tell you. ;) I clicked Send, waiting for the phone to ring shrilly, followed by Leah’s frustrated voice as she ripped me a new one over my stupidity.

But, it didn’t come.

Somehow, I wondered if that was worse. Maybe she’d save the shitstorm until she got home from work so she could berate me face to face.

That was okay, though. Let her be angry. If I had my way, she wouldn’t be furious for long.

The thought made me smirk. Leah was feisty and independent and protective, but two could play at that game. She didn’t know it yet, but she had just met her match.

***

I HEARD THE KEY IN the door just as I was putting the finishing touches on my surprise.

“Luxe!” I gasped with a grin, staying as quiet as I could. “Get up to the table, bud! Your mom’s home!”

“Eek!” The little boy zoomed by me in a frantic scurry, his eyes wide and mouth set in a wide smile.

“You ready?” I asked him, and he nodded, shoving his hands in front of his mouth in anticipation.

I pushed his chair in, then stood behind him, in full view of the doorway.

Leah pushed the door open a few seconds later, fidgeting with the key to get it out of the door. “I didn’t expect the—”

“Surprise!” Luxe cried out cheerfully, his little arms opening wide to display the table before him. His announcement was a little premature, but it accomplished what it was meant to.

Leah pulled the key from the door, but she wasn’t focusing on it anymore. It hung open, almost as much as her mouth. She stopped in her tracks, staring incredulously at the dinner table, neatly set with a piping hot pan of lasagna in the middle of it, steam billowing into the air above it. Her eyes were the only part of her that moved, from Luxe’s smiling face up to my own cocky grin.

To say I had her attention was an understatement.

“You...made dinner?” Getting those three words out seemed to pull Leah from her trance, and she took a long glance around the apartment. When she’d left this morning, a daunting stack of boxes had been piled up near the table, still sealed with packing tape. Now, the stack was gone, and the cardboard boxes were broken down and tucked neatly by the door, just needing to be taken out to the recycling bins downstairs. I didn’t think it was possible, but her eyes widened even further. “You unpacked my things?”

“We unpacked, didn’t we, Luxe?” I ruffled the boy’s hair, and he answered with a giggle.

“Surprise!” he said again.

Leah’s purse slid slowly off her shoulder to the floor near the door, and she shuffled out of her jacket. “I, uh, didn’t expect...I mean, I figured your day went okay, but...”

I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep my faint smirk from growing into a full-fledged grin. She was so damn cute when she was speechless.

I took a few steps to the left and pulled out the chair at the end of the table, motioning to her to come and sit down. “Everything went great, Leah. Really. I’m sure Little Man Luxe here will tell you all about it.”

She crossed the floor as though hypnotized, her gaze flitting between the meal on the table and me. She sat down without another word, and I helped her to pull her chair in, using the close proximity to lean forward and whisper into her ear, “You’re welcome.”

When her head turned quickly so she could see me, I just winked and headed for the chair at the other end of the table, unable to hide my amusement.

“You’re staying for dinner, too?”

“Well, I’m so glad you asked,” I joked. “I’d love to.”

She didn’t protest, but all throughout dinner Leah wore the same shell-shocked expression. It might have grown fainter over the course of the meal, but it remained, nonetheless. It made me wonder when the last time was that someone had done anything nice for her.

Luxe was as animated as ever, and his fork waved around frantically as he jabbered on about how he’d won superhero tag-you’re-it, and how he’d had chocolate milk for breakfast. That earned me an arched eyebrow, but I only pursed my lips together and shrugged. It was easy to tell after just a few minutes, though, that Luxe was easily going to fall into his plate of lasagna if one of us didn’t clean him up and get him into bed. The boy’s eyes were heavy-lidded, and his head drifted forward, bobbing slightly whenever he wasn’t talking.

“Someone’s tired.” Leah put her own fork down and pushed her chair out. “Bedtime, my boy?” She held her arms out to him.

Luxe shook his head. “Jason.”

“You’ll get to see him tomorrow. He lives right next door, remember?” she assured him with a smile.

“You can count on it, little dude.” I reached over, holding out a palm for him to high-five.

He did, but he shook his head. “No. Jason’ll tuck me in.”

I could have cut the tension in the room with a knife. I didn’t know what to say, and I damn sure didn’t know what Leah would have to say about her son’s request.

She paused, her gaze flickering over to me only briefly, but finally she nodded. “If he wants to, buddy, Jason can. Sure.” She took a step back, waiting for my own reaction.

If this was some kind of test, I wasn’t sure whether I passed or failed, but I leaped from my chair dramatically, pushing Luxe’s chair out and scooping him up in one fluid movement, and he erupted in a fit of giggles as I held him high in the air. “Want to?” I said. “I’d be honored to tuck you in!”

I made a game of it, first setting him up on the kitchen counter to wipe the tomato sauce from his face, then popping him up onto my shoulders as we made our way down the hallway. I stole a quick glance at Leah, and she was watching me—just as I knew she would be—but I couldn’t read her.

I emerged from the little boy’s bedroom a few minutes later, and I tried to make a joke of it, brushing my hands off as though I’d just accomplished the world’s biggest feat. “His pajamas don’t match, and he might be asking for chocolate milk as a bedtime snack, but his teeth are brushed and he’s under the covers. He’s all yours, Mama Bear.”

“You bet he is.” She smirked as she passed by me and headed down the hallway, but there was amusement etched in her features.

I busied myself by cleaning off the kitchen table and beginning to stack dishes into the dishwasher. I was just sifting through the cupboard under the sink, looking for the bottle of detergent I’d unpacked earlier, when Leah’s voice cut through the silence.

“So, you babysit, you clean, you can cook like a dream, and my son thinks you’re Superman. What’s wrong with you?”

I rose to my feet, turning to face her. Leah leaned against the counter, staring at me with a renewed interest. There was no venom in her words. It was a straightforward, serious question.

I leaned forward as though to tell her a deep, dark secret. “Maybe I am Superman,” I whispered.

She rolled her eyes, but she laughed quietly, and I considered that a positive sign. “You know what I mean,” she said.

I took her in, leaned against that counter in her black slacks and fitted V-neck blouse, her vibrant hair tied back tightly at the base of her skull. I wanted to reach out and untie it, letting her crimson locks fall freely past her shoulders, framing her pretty face. Instead, I purposely leaned across in front of her and plucked Luxe’s Lightning McQueen cup from the counter, tossing it into the dishwasher, too. “You think I’m going to tell you what’s wrong with me after you’ve just painted such a flawless picture of me?” I said wryly.

Pouring a bit of the liquid detergent into the dispenser, I closed the dishwasher and turned it on. When I turned back toward Leah, she hadn’t moved, or spoken.

“Why does there have to be anything wrong with me?” I laughed, realizing she’d been serious.

“The term too good to be true is floating around in my mind, Jason,” she admitted. “And I’ve just been burned by someone, so I—”

“Luxe’s father?” I pulled a dish towel from the drawer in which I’d put them in earlier, trying to make my questions sound less like an interrogation and more like an innocent conversation.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” There was an edge to her voice at the mere mention of him.

I nodded, purposely matching her stance, my back against the counter, one foot crossed in front of the other. “Mind if I ask what the deal is with you two?”

“If I said I did mind, would that stop you from asking again?”

“If I said no, would you throw me out of here?”

Leah’s lips curved up at the corners. “Not until you were done cleaning up, at least.”

“Ouch.” I grinned, rolling up the dishtowel and snapping it playfully at her shin.

“I’m kidding!” she chuckled, leaning away from the towel’s trajectory.

As much as I wanted to ask my question again, I left it unspoken, letting it hang between us like a gauzy veil as I focused on wiping down the kitchen table instead. I’d already seen flashes of hesitancy in her eyes a few times since I’d first met her, and I didn’t want her to feel as though I was pushing her in any certain direction, let alone towards me.

So, I let the silence loom between us, and when Leah finally spoke, the edge that had previously been heard in her voice was gone, replaced by a well-controlled nonchalance.

“Zach is his name. Luxe’s father, I mean. He was my—I mean, we were engaged. But it didn’t work out. He found someone else.”

Her choice of wording earned her an inquisitive glance from me. “Is that the politically correct way of telling me the bastard cheated on you?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps.”

I hung the dishtowel back on the handle of the stove. “Well, it turns out I’ve never mastered the art of political correctness, so you’ll have to excuse me if I call things like I see it.”

“There’s nothing much else to tell you,” she insisted, but her knuckles were white where her hands gripped the countertop, her fingers curled under it as she leaned back. “He lied, he cheated, and he found someone better because of it. Fast forward a couple weeks, and here I am, the newest tenant at Glenview Apartments.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I held my hands up, halting her. “You’re wrong.”

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. “I mean it, there’s nothing else to—”

“I don’t mean about about that, Leah.” My gaze bore into her, intense. “Yes, he lied, and yes, he cheated. But be damned if he found someone better. I don’t believe it, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Well, that’s what he thinks.”

“Well, he’s a fucking idiot, then, isn’t he?”

Leah’s gaze never faltered, but amusement tugged her lips into a faint grin. “You’re right, you don’t do politically correct very well.”

“Tried to warn you.”

She held up her hands. “No warning needed. It’s just...refreshing, I guess.”

I gave her my most debonair smile, puffing my chest out like I was the king of all men. “If you like that, you should see what else I’ve got up my sleeve,” I teased, waggling my eyebrows.

Again, Leah rolled her eyes. “God, you really do think you’re a superhero, don’t you? Luxe has you brainwashed.”

“I could think of worse things to believe,” I replied with a smile. Such as you thinking the woman your fiancé cheated with is somehow better than you.

Leah pushed away from the counter and turned to pull one of only three wine glasses from the cupboard. I hadn’t found a forth in any of the boxes to complete the set.

“Do you want a drink, Jason?” she asked without looking at me. I watched her head to the fridge and pull a bottle of white wine from it.

“Are you trying to get me drunk already?” I pressed my hand to my heart, feigning shock. “I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

She held up the bottle, revealing that it was less than half full. “If we shared this, you’d get less than a quarter bottle of wine to yourself. If you can get drunk off that, you’d better go home, Jason, because I won’t be able to resist making fun of you for being a lightweight.”

My hand was pressed against my chest again, and I took the bottle from her. “Jesus, first you insinuate I’m not a superhero, then you call me a lightweight. I’m really not doing a very good job of making a decent first impression, obviously.” I poured a generous amount into one of the glasses and handed it to her.

Leah took it with a nod of gratitude, her eyes shining with humor. “You made my son smile from ear to ear, cooked supper, and cleaned my house. Yet, you think you haven’t made a good impression?”

I pushed the bottle onto the counter, pushing the second wine glass away with it. The movement also brought me closer to Leah, and I found myself close enough to her that I could smell the sweet scent of her perfume, lingering tones of vanilla and sugar. “Trust me,” I said in a low voice, my mouth dangerously close to her ear. “I could definitely leave a better impression.”

It may have been a figment of my imagination, but I thought I heard her gasp. Just a sharp little noise as she sucked in a breath, but it spoke volumes.

“You’re n-not going to have a drink?” she stammered, trying to cover it up.

“I rarely do, to be honest.” Without thinking, I reached my hand up and gently brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t indulge.” In anything, I wanted to say. Whatever you want, Leah, I’m game.

The way she was looking at me, her gaze hovering somewhere between my hand and my face, I thought maybe she was reading into what I’d said, too, and I paused, waiting for her to make the next move. I didn’t want to come on too strong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell I could move away from her now and risk her thinking I’d second-guessed myself.

When her words came, though, they weren’t the ones I’d hoped for. “Your turn,” she said, sounding breathless. “What’s your story, Jason? Because men like you aren’t exactly a dime a dozen.”

“Men like me?” I quirked a brow.

She lifted her wine glass between us and took a long drink, forcing me to distance myself from her a bit. “Men like you,” she confirmed. “Highly attractive, domestic gods with their own business and their head on straight.”

“Domestic god?” I bit my lip. “Shit, Leah, I’m going to need you to say that more often, because it’s kind of stroking my ego,” I laughed. “Hell, maybe I should get you to call my mother, too, and tell her what you just said. I think she’d be proud.”

Leah slid from between the countertop and me, chuckling, and I followed her into the living room. As she took a seat on the beige leather sofa, she said, “You’re stalling, Jason. Which tells me there’s a story there. What’s the deal?”

I contemplated glossing over the details, or even giving a vague answer, but Leah had been upfront and honest with me. It was only right I offered her the same. “You’re not the only one who’s been burned,” I admitted, taking a seat beside her. “I’d been with Destiny for three years. We lived together.” I pointed toward the wall, indicating that we’d both lived in the apartment beyond it. “I thought we were on the same page, that we were happy with what we had together.” I lifted my gaze to Leah, a sad smile on my lips. “I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” Leah said softly, staring down at her hands. “She left because she wasn’t content?”

“If there were signs she wasn’t happy up until that point, I missed them.” I shrugged and tried to keep my voice light, but I’d rarely spoken about my breakup with Destiny since it happened six months ago, and it still wasn’t easy to now. “But, there really isn’t any other way to interpret a rejected marriage proposal, now is there?”

Leah’s eyes widened. “You proposed, and she ended the relationship instead?”

“Well, when you put it like that...” I pretended to mull it over. “Yeah, that’s exactly what she did.”

“What a cruel thing to do.”

“Always the politically correct one, huh?” I teased, nudging her knee with mine. “I prefer to say it was a bitch move, but who am I to judge?”

“Judge away,” Leah replied with a smirk. “Sounds like you’ve earned the right.” She paused to take another sip of wine. “I guess I just don’t get it.”

I leaned back against the couch, letting out a breath. “Get what?”

Straight faced, Leah lowered her glass. “Not wanting to be with a superhero. I mean, really?” Then, she winked.

I’m telling you, it took everything I had not to tackle her and kiss the hell out of her right then and there.

Instead, I scoffed. “I know, right? I mean, and I’m a highly attractive domestic god to boot.” I held up my hands in surrender. “Your words, not mine.”

“I’m not going to live that one down, am I?”

“Not any time soon, pretty lady. I liked the way it sounded way too much.”

She held the glass to her lips, staring at me in silence over the rim of it, then took another drink. “I kind of like the way that sounded, too.”

“What?”

“You calling me pretty,” she explained, a hint of pink in her cheeks.

I leaned forward a bit, a devilish smile on my face. “I told you before, Leah, I just call it like I see it.”

The pink tinge deepened quickly into a fiery crimson.

I watched her a moment longer, relishing in the reaction I’d caused, then sat up straight. “I should probably go,” I sighed. “You must be exhausted.”

Leah looked suddenly alarmed, and I knew what she must be thinking—that she’d said or done something to turn me away. It was easy to recognize blatant insecurity when you harbored it yourself. Anyone who’d ever been hurt by someone knew that kind of doubt.

I didn’t want to come across as disrespectful, and I certainly didn’t want to cross any lines, but I reached out and patted her knee gently. “This was nice, Leah. Tonight, I mean.”

She nodded. “Yeah, it was.”

Her gaze kept flitting down to my mouth, and if she was trying to hide it, she wasn’t doing a very good job. God damn it, she was silently begging for me to kiss her. I could see it. Hell, I could feel it. The want. The need. The chemistry.

But, I couldn’t risk giving her a reason to jump to the conclusion that I was on the rebound. Wait, I scolded myself. She needs time to trust you.

“The icing on the cake when it comes to the awesome day I had with Little Man Luxe.” I gave her a reassuring smile. “He’s a good kid, Leah. You should be proud.”

“I am. And thank you for staying with him. I’m sure it’s not your idea of an ideal day.”

Mentioning Luxe seemed to have rescued her from her embarrassment, and I stood up, offering a hand to help her up from the couch, too. “Let me tell you something. I was raised with three sisters. Trust me when I say that getting to hang out with Luxe and play trucks and superheroes is much closer to my ideal day than the hair barrettes and makeup and Barbie dolls I’ve been subjected to in the past.” I pointed a finger at her, daring her to laugh. “And, believe me, contrary to what you might think, pink is not my color. Now, walk me to the door, will you?”

She did laugh, and the sound stirred something within me as I tugged her the ten feet toward the door with me. “Thank you,” she said as I pulled my shoes on. “All joking aside, thank you. You were a lifesaver today.”

“A real, live Superman,” I reminded her with a wink.

“Yes. For Luxe,” she said as her eyes met mine. “And for me.”

I felt my stomach clench at the weight of her words. Something smoldered in her eyes, and if I wasn’t careful, the fire burning in mine was going to collide with it and there’d be no going back. “I’m here, Leah,” I promised her, my voice now coarse. “For Luxe, and for you. If you need me, for anything, I’m here.”

“I’ll be sure to remember that.”

I leaned forward, my hand gently grazing her forearm, and I kissed her cheek. “Do me a favor and remember that domestic god bit, too, okay? A guy can never hear that enough.”

She turned to face me just as I pulled away from her, but I halted, my face only a breath away from hers. Heat radiated from her skin, and mixed with the desire in her eyes and the sweet scent of wine on her lips, I was suddenly intoxicated by her.

If Leah had planned to follow up my witty comment with something else, it was lost amongst the electricity that sizzled where my fingertips touched her arm and the heady spark between us.

“Goodnight, Leah.” I breathed the words against her lips, in hopes of conveying that it was taking every ounce of restraint I had in me to leave her standing at that doorway, wine glass in hand, the breathy promise of what we could become left on her cheek.

“Goodnight,” she whispered, still as a stone.

I let my thumb trail lightly down her arm, and I stepped away with a sigh. I’d just told that woman of the hardships I’d recently dealt with regarding my ex, and yet nothing seemed to compare to how difficult it was for me to walk out of that apartment, leaving that beautiful, fiery redhead staring after me, especially when I could see it in her eyes that she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.