Téa

Scarlett looks a little green after eating a waffle the size of her head. She must have been starving the way she attacked that thing. I haven’t heard her speak since our food arrived.

“She’s a good eater,” I say, pointing my fork at the beautiful little girl with whipped cream on the corners of her mouth.

“Yeah usually, she hasn’t had had much of an appetite lately though, until this morning that is. It must be you.”

“Did I wear you out, Scarlet? I ask.

“No, more pictures.”

“See? It wasn’t me. She wants to take more pictures.” I say smugly from my side of the booth.

The bustle of cooks flipping pancakes and making bacon on the other side of the pass through can be heard throughout the small beachside restaurant.

It’s early so there aren’t many people here yet, just a spattering of fishermen and one family in the corner booth.

The smell of the ocean and breakfast mixed in the air is heavenly. I haven’t had anything this close to a home-cooked meal in months, and I’m taking full advantage of it.

“I didn’t mean you wore her out necessarily. It’s more like you’re filling a void.”

“Oh, yes I see. Is everything okay with that?” I say, trying to keep it vague enough that a four-year-old won’t recognize that we are talking about her missing nanny.

“No, we are looking for someone. It’s been hard. The women they have sent from the agency just don’t click with Scarlet. We’ll find the right one though won’t we?”

He gently pinches her round apple cheek, and she smiles with a mouth full of waffle and nods her head up and down.

“And you’re going on vacation Tuesday? That’s going to be rough finding someone before then.”

“I can handle vacationing alone. It’s our schedule at home that’s difficult. I have practice, and the team will start traveling soon again when the season starts. Scarlet has gymnastics and dance class. It’s all a lot to organize. We didn’t realize how good we had it, I guess.”

“So she traveled with you and Scarlet came along?”

“Yep, she goes where I go.”

“How about any of the other guys on the team? Do any of them travel with their family? Maybe they could help out until you find someone new.”

“No, all the guys are either party animals or married with wives at home who take care of the kids. There’s Ben, he’s my best friend, and he hangs out with us a lot, but he’s not the most responsible guy around, and he’s a little immature and impulsive too.”

“I love Ben,” Scarlet says, swallowing her food and joining the conversation.

“Ben’s a good guy,” he says and takes a drink of his coffee.

“I love Téa,” Scarlet says.

The three of us still and look around at each other, waiting to see how that comment settles. Nick seems taken aback and Scarlet apprehensive. I need to lighten the moment.

“You’re pretty cool too, Scarlet. I’m going to have to come to Myrtle Beach more often so I can have waffles for breakfast with you two.” I smile, and Nick relaxes.

“That reminds me, I wanted to talk to you about something before we get back to taking pictures.”

I stuff a bite of waffle and strawberry in my mouth and chew. I’ve never had a problem eating in front of guys. I order what I want and eat as much as I want, and if they don’t like it, they can take a walk.

I lift my eyebrows nonverbally, encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about that hotel you’re staying in. I’m sure by now you’ve looked up the history of the place.”

He pauses and I keep chewing, not interested in hearing him say I told you so.

“You mentioned that you’re checking out today, I hope it’s not because you’re going back to Chicago early.”

“No, I’m not going home. My friend invited me to stay with her and her husband. And since you implied that The Madison is as good as the American Horror Story hotel, I figured I should take her up on her offer.”

“You Googled,” I say.

“I certainly did not,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You definitely Googled.”

She rolls her eyes and sits back in the seat with a huff.

“How about coming to stay with us instead? We have plenty of room, and we will be leaving on vacation Tuesday, so you’ll have the whole place to yourself for the rest of your time here.”

Whoa, now that I wasn’t expecting. I thought he was going to razz me some more about staying at The Madison, not invite me to stay with him.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose on you like that. You’ve got enough going on with your nanny situation. I don’t want to add to your problems.”

“You’re not a problem at all.”

Scarlet sits up straighter in her seat and looks from Nick to me.

“You’ll stay with us?”

Her eyes are sparkling and full of hope. Oh my God, how am I supposed to say no to that. I look to Nick for help, and he lifts his coffee to his smirking lips and shrugs.

He knew he had a little weapon sitting next to him. He used her irresistible allure to suck me in. It’s not that he isn’t a good enough reason to accept the offer because he is, but he is still essentially a stranger.

Her big blue eyes seal the deal exactly the way he knew they would.

“You play dirty, don’t you?” I ask, directing the question at him.

“Whatever do you mean?” His eyes pop open wide with feigned innocence and insult.

“Please,” Scarlet says, dragging out the word, imploring me to stay with them.

“Okay, I’ll come under one condition.”

“Anything,” he says, all traces of playfulness gone, replaced with a serious tone.

“You go about your day like I’m not there. I don’t want to disrupt your life.”

“Easy. Done.”

“You’re staying?” Scarlet asks, holding her breath. I’ve never seen a child get so excited.

“Yep.”

She lets out a screech that draws the attention of the few people who are in the restaurant.

“Letty honey, shush, mind your manners.”

She’s smiling from ear to ear and his words aren’t stern, as if he’s only saying them for the other patrons’ sake.

“Shall we go?”

I groan, “Yes, I’m stuffed. Let’s go work off some of these calories running around on the pier.”

Hours later, we pull up in front of a southern plantation home with columns, a wrap-around porch, and a lush sprawling green lawn that goes on forever.

“Oh my God, this is gorgeous. We have to take some pictures here, on the porch on the lawn.”

Nick pulls the car around the circle drive and I plaster my face against the window, craning my neck to see the balcony that mirrors the porch directly above it. He chuckles at my excitement, but he has no idea that his house is a photographer’s dream come true.

“Seriously, Nick, your house is a fantastic location for your family photo shoot. I can’t believe we were wasting our time on the beach when you had all of this at your disposal.”

“I’m glad you like it. I never thought about it but yeah, it would be a great place for pictures.”

I rip my eyes from the beauty of his home and look at him with my mouth hanging open.

“You never thought of having family photos done here? It’s your family home, what better place to have family pictures done?”

His chuckle turns into laughter. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ansel, I don’t think like a famous photographer.”

“Ansel Adams was my great grandpa,” I say, completely deadpanning. He stops laughing and eyes me with suspicion until I can’t hold my straight face any longer. I crumble into a fit of laughter and point my finger at him. “You were thinking about it, weren’t you? Admit it, you were doing the math in your head, weren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, “You’re a jokester huh? I’ll have to remember that.”

“Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s just so beautiful here.”

“Thank you, I guess I do take it for granted sometimes. We are so busy running in and out and traveling all the time I don’t take time to really look around.”

I shake my head. “That’s a damn shame. Whoops, sorry.” I look back to see if Scarlet caught me swearing, and she’s out cold with her head lolled to one side and her mouth hanging open.

“She’s heard worse, believe me. Most of the guys on the team are pretty foul-mouthed, except for Ben. I should tell you about him since you’re going to be staying here for a while.”

“Is Ben your boyfriend?” Ninety-nine percent of that question is teasing, and the last one percent is genuine concern that Nick is the perfect catch for a guy named Ben and not myself.

“Ben plays defense for the Hawks. He’s my best friend and absolutely not my boyfriend. He’s like family to us and he’s around a lot. He’s different from the other guys on the team. He’s not interested in the wild party life and he doesn’t have any family or a steady girlfriend, so he hangs with us.”

“That’s cool. So, don’t leave my door open or grab a drink in my underwear in the middle of the night?”

He lowers his focus from my eyes to my mouth. My pulse rises, and I squirm under his gaze and pull my bottom lip in between my teeth.

“Sorry, too forward?” I ask.

“You should be careful what kind of ideas you put into my head, Ms. Brown.”

His tone says watch it lady, but his eyes say he wants nothing more than to see me wandering around his house at night in my panties and bra.

I watch him round the front of the car and open my door, deafened by the sound of my heart pounding in my chest.

“We can do some pictures around the house tomorrow. Scarlet will probably nap until it’s time for dinner. Let’s go inside, I’ll put her down and show you your room.”

Between opening his door and opening mine, he has managed to rein in the desire that was in his tone seconds ago.

Nicolas Wood is once again the friendly fatherly man I spent the day with. The dominant, smoky-eyed man that I pushed to the edge with my teasing words seconds ago is nowhere in sight.

I nod silently. No man has ever made me speechless, but Nick Wood has cut the lines of communication between my brain and my vocal cords with a few commanding words.

He scoops Scarlet from her seat with ease and leads me up the long brick path to the house. Two rows of trees line the path, and their intertwined branches form a canopy overhead that keeps the yard uncharacteristically cool for this time of year.

The warm summer air smells sweeter here than the salty air from the beach. Hot pink bougainvillea that matches the pink sunset crawls up the brick wall that runs the length of the property on the south, and the sound of a million locusts singing fills the air.

God, I could stay here forever. The only thing missing is the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. If this house were on the beach, it would be outright heaven.

We climb the stairs to the porch and while he unlocks the door, I glance to my right at the row of mission rocking chairs. There are small cocktail tables every few chairs and enormous potted hydrangeas set in each corner.

I feel like I’ve walked into Tara from Gone With The Wind, but more beautiful.

Nick pushes open one of the incredible tall front doors, and I follow him inside to a wide-open foyer with a sweeping curved staircase. A chandelier bigger than my apartment in Chicago twinkles overhead, and a large round table sits in the center with an impressive vase overflowing with light pink hydrangeas and purple wisteria.

I’ve seen the homes of professional football players on MTV’s Cribs and I know they have money, lots of it. But this house is nothing like the ostentatious mansions that those players buy just so they can say they spent a couple million on a place to lay their head.

This is home that says I am classy and down to earth. You can almost feel the love that it took to make this house a home. It has character and history and a style long since forgotten.

Nick glances over his shoulder and catches me with my head tipped back, checking out the gorgeous chandelier.

“I’m going to lay her down. If you want to look around, be my guest. I didn’t see Ben’s car, but that doesn’t mean he’s not lurking around here somewhere, so be on the lookout.”

“Okay, I’m not going far though. I’m afraid I’ll get lost.”

“It’s not as big as you’d think. Have a look around and I’ll be right back.”

He heads up the stairs with Scarlet, and I look left at what was once the parlor and is now more of a family room than its formal predecessor.

Nick has done a nice job of updating the interior in a way that newer furnishings don’t seem odd or out of place. There’s just the right amount of detail in the molding and the fixtures. Giant colorful period rugs cover the hardwood floors.

Without thinking, I take out my camera and start taking pictures of the vase full of flowers, the chandelier, and the large fireplace that is the focus of the office on the right of the foyer.

I follow the flow of rooms back to the kitchen, where it feels more modern with its updated appliances and large island. There are three sets of French doors that open to the back patio where a large pool sits, tempting me to slide into the water. The sun has almost set and the rest of the yard has been swallowed up by the dark, but I don’t think there is much out there to see past the pool.

Stepping out onto the back porch is like walking into a magical fairy tale, with the glowing water and flowers pouring out of any place something could grow.

I’m so engrossed with taking pictures that I don’t even hear Nick approach. His hands slide over my eyes from behind, and I jump out of my skin.

“Holy shit!”

“What are you doing out here?” he says into my ear, propping his chin on my shoulder.

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry. I saw this beautiful wild creature wandering around in my yard taking pictures, and I had to find out why.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. When something this beautiful comes along, I sort of forget my manners and start trying to capture it.”

“I know the feeling.” He lowers his hands from my eyes, trailing his fingers over my shoulders and down my arms. He releases me, and goose bumps spread over my skin.

I half expect him to turn me around and kiss me until I hear his shoes against the cement walking away. I release a breath I started holding when his hands were resting on my shoulders and watch him make his way around the pool to the pool house.

He removes a skimming pole from two large hooks and slides it into the water. There isn’t much to clean; someone does an excellent job with the pool upkeep.

“What do you do with all of your photographs?”

“The ones I take for pleasure?”

He lifts his eyes from the water to look directly at me.

“Yes, the ones for pleasure.”

I swallow when he says pleasure. He can make the most ordinary statement sound alluring.

“I uh, I have a portfolio, and the ones I’m particularly fond of, I blow up and hang on the walls of my loft.”

“Is your loft all one room?”

“Yes.”

“What do you have on your walls right now?” he says, scooping a few leaves from the surface of the water.

I sit down in a chair next to a large table with an umbrella and raise my camera, aiming it at him.

“I have a shot of a lion I took in Africa.” I take his picture. Click. He looks up, startled by the flash.

“Did you get my good side?”

“You have a bad side?” I ask and take another.

He’s got the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up, exposing his tan, toned forearms. His hair is tussled from the wind at the beach. It looks better that way to me. The first couple of buttons of his shirt are unbuttoned, showing a hint of what I can only imagine are incredibly chiseled pectorals.

“You tell me.”

I lower the camera, and our eyes meet. “No, all your sides look pretty good to me.”

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he blushes, again. Just like in the plane, a slight tinge of pink springs to his cheeks when I compliment him.

“You’re blushing.” I snap a picture, and he laughs and holds out his hand to block me, but he’s too late. It’s a perfect shot.

“I like it.”

“I’m glad my body’s inability to accept a compliment from you without blushing brings you pleasure.”

“Do you always blush?”

“Yep, since I was a little boy. My mother adored it. She would say things to embarrass me in front of her friends so I would turn pink.”

“Aw, what does your mother do?”

“Well, she’s a mother,” he says playfully.

“Duh, come on, tell me about your family.”

“My mom is from Scotland, she moved here when she was a teenager. She owns an art studio downtown. My dad is Italian, born and raised in New York. He’s a stock broker, and my little sister Nora is in college at Duke.”

“Wow, impressive. How old is your little sister?”

“Twenty-one. She wants to be a model, but Mom and Dad insisted she go to college first.”

“Good idea, most models don’t make much money. Not to say she can’t, but I’m in the business, you know. I see what a lot of those girls go through for a couple bucks. What’s your mom’s studio called?”

“Edie, which is also her name.”

“Is that Scottish?”

“Yes, and your next question is going to be why my last name is Wood, isn’t it?”

“Well, now that you mention it.”

“My father’s name was Tessaro. In New York when he was growing up, there was a mob family named Tessaro. They were no relation to him, but he caught a lot of crap because of it. He changed it when he was in high school. My grandma let him because she thought the name was cursed after my grandpa died in a freak accident building a high-rise.”

“Wow, such a colorful past.”

He hangs the skimmer back on its hooks and rounds the pool to stand in front of me.

“Like a rainbow. You’re pretty colorful, what are your parents like?” He reaches out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, and a shiver runs up my spine.

“My mother died when I was eleven, and my dad is a mechanic for Carl McGovern.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”

“It’s okay, I never really knew her. I was young when she died.”

“You have that in common with Scarlet. Her mother died during childbirth.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry, that had to be tough.”

He nods, and sadness floods his eyes. My heart breaks a little for this man who lost his wife and raised their baby alone. I always sensed my father missed my mom, but I never saw the pain in his eyes because we never talked about it, ever.

He offers me his hand to help me up. “Let’s go inside and have a drink.”

He leads me through the kitchen back to the living room at the front of the house, never letting go of my hand.

“How far did you get on your self-guided tour?” he asks when we’ve reached the couch.

“Oh, just through to the kitchen and out onto the back porch.”

He gestures to the couch and releases my hand so that I can sit. I miss the warmth of his touch as soon as our hands separate.

He strolls to a small built-in bar just inside the adjoining dining room.

“I’ll show you the rest tomorrow. Brandy?” he says, holding up a glass bottle of the amber-colored liquid in one hand and a brandy snifter in the other.

“Sure, thanks.”

I’ve never had brandy, or at least I don’t think I have. Anything’s possible when you attend hundreds of parties in college.

“So how personal can we get with our questions?” I ask.

He stops pouring and looks up at me.

“As personal as you’d like.”

“How long were you and your wife married?”

He returns to pouring our drinks and makes his way back to me before he answers. I scoot over on the couch to make room for him.

“You can take your boots off and get comfortable if you want. You’re living here for a while, and it’s been a long day.”

“Are you avoiding my question?”

“No, but I want to take off my shoes so I figured I’d see if you’d go first.”

I laugh and roll my eyes while I unlace my left boot with one hand and take a drink of brandy using the other. I swallow a big gulp and choke when the strong liquor hits my throat.

Nick pats me on the back vigorously. “You have to take small sips. Are you okay?”

I sputter and hand him back the brandy. “I don’t drink much, and I’m not drinking that ever again.”

He sits down next to me and sets our glasses on the coffee table.

“Give me your foot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your foot, up, right here,” he says, patting his thigh.

“You’re going to take my shoes off for me?”

“It’ll take your mind off of the burning in your throat.”

He’s got that right.

I wrinkle up my nose and shake my head.

“I don’t think you wanna do that after the day we’ve had running around on the beach.”

“I have a four-year-old who has a great love for mud. You can’t possibly shock me with your stinky feet.”

I shrug, “Okay, it’s your nose. Have at it, champ.”

I lift my leg and lean back against the plump beige and blue pillows behind me and watch as he begins to loosen my laces.

“I was married to Mariah for five years, we met in college. We waited to have children until we both were established in our careers, if you call playing football a career.”

“I think anything that brings in enough money to live in a place like this should be considered a career.” I gesture around the room at the floor-to-ceiling windows covered in drapes that pool on the floor and the grand stone fireplace that commands your attention.

“Mariah decorated the house. She loved every minute of it. That’s what she did though, she was an interior designer.”

“She did a beautiful job.”

He’s loosened the laces all the way to my toes, and now he’s working it off of my foot. When it’s off, he drops it to the floor and pats his leg. I switch feet and he starts the process over.

“She did. It was hard when she was gone. She handpicked every single thing in this house. Memories of our life were everywhere. She worked nonstop from the moment we bought the house to make it the perfect place to raise a family. As hard as it was to stay, I had to respect her wishes to raise Scarlet here.”

“That’s really sensitive of you.”

“I loved her very much.”

“It shows.”

He has both of my boots off now with my feet resting in his lap.

“So, are you ready to try your brandy again?”

I scrunch up my nose in distaste.

“It’s gross.”

“It’s not. You chugged it like a glass of water. You have to take tiny sips and build a taste for it.”

I groan and toss my head back onto the pillows.

“Why would I want to drink something I have to build a taste for? Shouldn’t I just like it or not?”

“Humor me.”

I sigh and hold out my hand without looking at him. He hands me the snifter and I raise my head to take a microscopic sip. It’s not bad. I don’t want to admit it, but his face is so hopeful that I do.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s better in small doses.”

“I won’t say I told you so.”

“Thank you.”

“So, are you going to take off your shoes too or am I going to be the only one with bare feet?”

“God, yes, I hate shoes.” He toes off his shoes and takes a sip of brandy.

“Thanks for feeding me all day.”

“No problem. I couldn’t let my favorite photographer go hungry.”

“Oh, so now I’m your favorite photographer, huh? Just how many photographers do you know?”

“Actually, I know quite a few. They’re sports photographers, but none of them take pictures as beautiful as yours.”

“I don’t think you can compare the two.”

“Okay, maybe it’s not just your work that is my favorite.”

“Yeah? It’s my shining personality, isn’t it?”

“Yep, you’re pretty bright,” he says, tickling my feet.

I wiggle and laugh and nearly spill my brandy, but he doesn’t stop until I accidently kick him where it counts.

He buckles over and groans. I bolt upright and swing my legs over the side of the couch to take his glass out of his hand. I set them both back on the table in front of us and slide onto the floor on my knees to look up into his face.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I’m really ticklish. I couldn’t help it.”

He grimaces, covering his crotch with his hand.

“It’s fine. My fault. Shouldn’t tickle.”

His answers come in short bursts, making me feel even guiltier.

“Can I do anything?” I ask, regretting the stupid question.

He lifts his miserable eyes to mine and gives me an I-think-you’ve-done-enough look.

I grimace and tip my head to the side, placing my hands on his knees.

“Sorry, again.”

He slides his hands over mine as he starts to relax. It’s almost worth racking him to have his hands on me again.

“This is another thing you have in common with my daughter. She always ends up getting revenge this way when I tickle her.”

“We must be soul sisters.”

“I hope not.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t do this with my daughter.”

He leans forward and presses his lips against mine. A lightning bolt of electricity explodes through my body, and I lean into the warm kiss I’ve been thinking about all day.

He tastes like brandy, and he smells like the ocean and fabric softener and strawberries. The combination is oddly pleasant and intoxicating. He’s masculine and domestic and paternal all rolled up in a perfect package of lean muscles and tanned skin topped off with a sexy, commanding manner and a kind disposition.

His strong, talented hands slide up to my elbows, and he pulls me forward until I’m nestled between his legs and his arms are holding me against his body.

I thread my fingers through the soft curls of hair at the base of his neck.

I wanted this. More than I realized. I mean, I’ve been drawn to him from the moment we met, but the time we spent together today felt like we were in a pressure cooker. The cooker opened when our lips touched and the release is overwhelming.

His hand slides up my back and into my hair where he slips off the tie that’s been holding my wild mop at bay all day. My mane of silky red and black waves cascade around us, shielding our faces from the world while he takes my breath away with his kiss.

He feels good, so damn good pressing against me. Too good, I could lose myself in this man that I’ve only just met. I should stop this before it gets out of hand, but there’s no way I can do it on my own.

The universe must have been eavesdropping on my internal deliberation because not a minute later when I’m considering climbing into Nick’s lap and straddling his hips, I hear the shuffling of little feet and the swoosh of a blanket being dragged along the hard wood floors.

“Daddy?” Scarlet’s voice comes from the foyer. I pull away and slide back up onto the couch next to Nick, who flops back against the cushion with a groan. The couch is situated so it faces away from the foyer, and we are both slouched down so she can only see the tops of our heads.

“Hey, Letty. What are you doing up, sweetheart?” he asks, dragging his hand over his face.

“I can’t sleep.”

“You mean you can’t sleep alone.”

She makes her way around the couch and is standing next to him with a unicorn blanket wrapped around her shoulders, dressed in a pink sparkly nightgown with bare feet.

It’s obvious she’s exhausted, everything about her is droopy and limp.

“Go lay down with her, don’t worry about me. Just lead me to a bed and I’ll be out of your hair.”

I sit up and straighten out my shirt and wad my hair up to return it to the top of my head in another messy knot.

“Okay, let me show you to your room then.” He stands up and lifts Scarlet into his arms before turning to offer me his hand.

“Need some help?”

I don’t need any help standing, and I’m sure he knows it. Maybe he likes touching me as much as I like being touched by him?

I give him my hand and he pulls me up. Scarlet looks at me as if she’s forgotten I was here.

“T,” she says, reaching out for me.

“Hey, Scarlet. You’re up really late, how about we all get some sleep and I can make you waffles again in the morning?”

I look at Nick to make sure that’s okay. I shouldn’t interject myself into their routine. I specifically asked them to go about their business like I wasn’t here, but it’s impossible.

Separate, these two are magnetic. Together, they are addictive. The more time they give me, the more I want.

“That sounds perfect. Come on, your room is this way, don’t forget your brandy and your boots.”

He nods toward our drinks on the table and my boots on the floor next to it.

“You can have mine.” I smile sweetly and grab my boots. “Lead the way.”

“I’m going to make you a brandy connoisseur, Téa Brown, you just wait.”

I roll my eyes and he chuckles.

We make our way up the long staircase to the second floor. Scarlet watches me over Nick’s shoulder as we climb. When we arrive at the top, she reaches out and taps me on the nose.

“You won’t go?”

“Who, me?” I say, looking left and then right before pointing at myself.

She giggles, “Yes, you. Don’t go, ‘kay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, don’t you worry.”

At the end of the hall, there is a large set of doors standing open that look as though they lead into the master bedroom. On the right is another open door with a pink glowing light flooding out onto the hallway floor, and on the left is a closed door.

Nick carries Scarlet into the pink room, and I stand on the threshold to wait while he tucks her in.

Scarlet’s room reminds me of a giant piece of bubble gum with glitter sprinkled on it. So far, it’s the least period room I’ve seen in the house, but I suppose when you’re four you don’t care if the furniture or the wall decorations fit in with the proper century of design.

Her floor-to-ceiling windows have long, pink sheer curtains with little fairies and crowns sewn on them. There is a play area set up in one corner with a pretend kitchen and two child-sized recliners that are arranged in front of a flat screen television, you know, for when she has her best friend over to watch Ellen in the afternoons while she serves pretend tea. The opposite corner is a mini library with bookshelves on both walls chock full of children’s books, from little baby board books all the way to young adult paperbacks.

There is a small library table with four chairs and two beanbag chairs on the floor next to the table. An enormous fuzzy pink rug is spread out in the middle of the room, and a chandelier with a pink hue hangs directly over it.

Pretty swanky for a preschooler, but her parents worked hard for her to have it and I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.

I wonder if her mother bought all of those books when she was pregnant. Having been an interior decorator, I suppose she did.

“I sleep with you, Daddy.”

“You need to be a big girl and sleep in your own bed.”

She doesn’t argue, but it’s apparent from her fat bottom lip poking out that she’s not interested in sleeping in her princess rice bed by herself.

She looks over at me, and I wave a little wave and give her a thumbs up. She returns both gestures, and a hint of a smile plays at the corners of her lips.

“Goodnight, Scarlet.”

Nick walks toward me and Scarlet answers, “Night T. Waffles, don’t forget.”

Nick squeezes past me in the door, and the brief contact almost makes me forget to respond. I shake off the brief contact high and reassure her that I won’t forget our breakfast plans.

“I won’t. Sleep fast.”

That brings a true smile to her face. One more wave, and I turn to see that Nick has opened the door to the room directly across from Scarlet’s and the light is on.

One step in, and I stop and look around the bedroom. As is with most of the rooms in the Wood household, it’s decorated in pure plantation style, but this one has more of a feminine touch. The mahogany rice bed is the focal point of the room just like Scarlet’s, although this one is king-sized.

Nick is pulling back the comforter and dimming the light next to the bed.

“The sheets are clean, and there is an en-suite bathroom over there.” He points to my left.

“My room is next door. If you need anything, the door is open.”

I lift my brows, and he chuckles.

“Scarlet won’t make it through the night. She hasn’t since Mimi left. Don’t let that deter you, though. I’d be happy to share my bed with both of you. Scarlet says I’m a pretty good snuggler.”

“I think that’s the most interesting pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

One corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk.

“Seriously though, if you need anything, just let me know.”

“I will, thanks.”

“I’m going to grab your suitcase from the car. I’ll set it inside the door here if you want to go ahead and shower.”

“Okay, goodnight Nick.”

“Night, Téa. I had a very good time today.”

“I did too, I’ll start editing your pictures tomorrow.”

“No rush.”

I watch him cross the room and close the door behind him. When I hear it click, I take a deep breath and blow it out.

What are you doing, Téa? He lives in Myrtle Beach. You live in Chicago. He’s a famous, busy professional football player. You’re a struggling photographer. He has a daughter who is the center of the world. You’ve never considered having kids. He is straight-laced and you’re a free spirit.

This can never work. There are too many hurdles, too many barriers.

But he makes me feel a way that I never thought I wanted to feel. He makes me feel normal.

In the bathroom, I look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m different. I’ve always been different. I’ve always embraced that about myself, I make it work for me.

But I also always wondered what it would feel like to be treated like everyone else, to blend in instead of sticking out. To not have people stare at my tattoos on the bus or give me the snobby side-glances in the hallway in high school for wearing what I like to wear instead of what’s popular. To not be labeled the creative girl or the mixed girl or the wild girl.

How would it be to just be an average run-of-the-mill girl?

Why am I even thinking about this? I am who I am, always have been, always will be.

I peel off my t-shirt, turn on the shower, and wiggle out of my ripped jeans. I take off my socks and toss them in the sandy pile of clothes on the floor. I didn’t have time to shower this morning, and I’m still wearing my sports bra and Captain America underwear. I have an entire set of superhero underwear that my friend Lisa got me for my birthday a year ago. They probably aren’t even meant for a woman to wear, but I love them just the same.

I hear the door click shut in the bedroom. Nick must have delivered my suitcase to my room and closed the door behind him.

He’s such a good host. I’m relieved to be out of my hotel, but I can’t help but feel a little guilty for accepting his offer to stay here for the next week and a half. That’s a long time to have a houseguest, especially one you hardly even know. It’s really only a couple of days since they are leaving Tuesday though. I guess that makes it okay.

The bathroom is steaming up, but I need something to change into when I’m clean so I open the door to grab a t-shirt out of my bag.

I jump when I realize I am not alone. Scarlet is standing just inside the door, looking at my suitcase covered in crazy stickers that I find when I travel.

“I like this one.” She points at a big pink butterfly with the words Pretty in Ink written across the middle of it. I got it in Miami at a tattoo parlor when I was there for a shoot and consequently decided it was high time for some new ink.

“Thanks. I’ll bet you like it because it’s pink, huh?”

She raises her eyes to me and nods yes with a smile. Her smile widens and she starts to giggle when she eyes my underwear.

“You got boy panties.”

I glance down and back up and when I do, I find four eyes staring at my underwear instead of two.

A strange man the size of Texas is standing next to Scarlet with his wide eyes glued to my crotch. Oh, God, this must be Ben.

“Uncle Ben, look at her panties.” Scarlet has a good case of the giggles going now, and I do the only thing I know how when I’m embarrassed.

I hide it.

I lean my shoulder against the bathroom door, cross my arms over my chest, and bend my knee, propping my foot on my calf in the most casual stance possible.

“Hey, Ben, I’m Téa, a friend of Nick and Scarlet’s. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, oh.” Ben averts his eyes and covers Scarlet’s at the same time.

“We should go, sorry, I didn’t know anyone was staying …”

“What are you doing out of bed again, young lady?” Nick’s voice comes from the hall right before he enters the Captain America panty party.

“Holy shit, what’s everyone doing in here?” he says, taking in the scene.

“Daddy said a bad word! Ben, did ya hear that?”

“Come on you little narc, get back to bed,” Ben says, ushering her from the room.

“Wow, I mean …” Nick gestures at the Captain. “Wow. Those are … I don’t even know what those are.”

I drop my arms to my sides. “They’re underwear, probably little boy’s underwear, but they were a gift. I can assure you, there’s no little boy running around out there without his superhero underpants.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and raises one hand to cover his mouth. He’s laughing, he has little smile wrinkles on the outside of his eyes and his shoulders are shaking.

“Go ahead, laugh. It’s okay. I know I look hot.”

“Actually, you do look hot. Incredibly, ridiculously hot as a matter of fact.”

“Thank you.” I push off the doorframe and strut across the room until I am standing directly in front of him. Never taking my eyes off of him, I bend my knees and grab the handle of my suitcase. I turn around with a flick of my hair and pull it back into the bathroom.

As I close the door, I hear him call, “Captain America never looked better.”

I pause and relax my back against the door, smiling to myself.

That had to rank in the top ten most awkward moments of my life, maybe even the top five.

What a way to meet Nick’s best friend. What a day to be wearing gag gift underwear. I do think I played it off pretty nonchalantly though. Nobody suspected I was dying to run into the bathroom and slam the door behind me.

That’s the key, never ever let ‘em see you sweat.