Chapter Six

 

Two days passed without me seeing either Brantley or the twins. By the time Thursday lunchtime rolled around, I’d finished the base coat on Ellie’s room and was about to start the final two coats in Eli’s room. Eric was in Ellie’s room measuring her floor and weighing up what he needed to do to fix it up.

“Kali?” He poked his head in Eli’s room, his dark-blond hair swishing in front of his eyes. “I have a lunch meeting. Do you mind if I come back when I’m done?”

I put down the paint can and looked at him with a smile. “That’s fine. You’re working on your time, not mine.” I winked at him. “I’d just like Eli’s floor done so I know when I need to finish painting.”

He held his hands up. “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got you covered. It doesn’t take me half as long as it takes you to figure out some flooring.”

“Do I look like flooring is my expertise?”

“No.” He grinned lopsidedly. “Plenty of other things, though…”

I threw my cleaning rag at him. He caught it with one swift movement and tossed it back to me.

“Don’t make me tell my daddy on you,” I warned him.

“Your daddy would marry you off to me in a heartbeat.”

“As long as you could abstain for six months without sex with other random women.”

He paused. “Point well made. See you in ninety minutes?”

Ha.

I rolled my eyes. “See you then, Eric. Come alone, won’t you?”

“I can’t promise I’ll come alone, but I’ll sure show up alone.” He tossed me a wink before he headed out of the door.

So much for that business meeting.

I shook my head and dipped the paintbrush in the paint and began the arduous task of edging around the base boards between the wall and floor. It was the worst job, and not one I could screw up even now. I had to paint the base boards eventually, and cleaning them up was no joke. The less paint I could get on them now, the better.

I’d barely touched brush to wall when I heard the sound of the door opening and muffled voices downstairs. Since Eric hadn’t left yet, it had to be Eric and Brantley.

Crap. I hoped Brantley didn’t mind I’d had him here without telling him. In fairness, he was happy to let me get on with it. And by get on with it I meant navigate boxes until I reached the twins’ rooms.

I made myself focus on the edging above the base boards before the door shut again. Silence reigned for a few moments before footsteps sounded on the stairs. It was suspiciously quiet for the middle of the day.

Where was the squabbling of the kids? Why weren’t they yelling at each other? That was their M.O., after all.

“Hey,” Brantley’s voice came from the doorway. “How are you doing?”

I shifted from my knees to my ass and looked over at him. Damn it, he looked good in a white polo shirt and light, ripped jeans. “Hey—good. You?”

“Good.” He paused, pursing those full lips of his. “Shit, it’s quiet.”

“That was my next question,” I said teasingly. “Did you leave them in the candy aisle at Irma’s store?”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent goosebumps up my bare legs. “No. I’m sure she wouldn’t appreciate that.”

“I don’t know. It’d give Mr. Pickles something else to chase than customers’ ankles.”

“Mr—oh, that cat.”

“Ah, you’ve met the town’s resident sweetheart.”

Another laugh. “Fortunately, I was wearing jeans. Protected myself well.”

“Smart,” I agreed. “Where are the twins, if not terrorizing Mr. Pickles?”

“Trial afternoon at daycare,” he said slowly. “No preschool in Rock Bay apparently.”

I shook my head. “Nothing until Kindergarten. Not enough kids in the area. Are they at Summer’s?”

“How do you—never mind. Small town.” His lips quirked. “Would you believe she knew everything about me before I’d even walked through the door?”

I dragged my lower lip between my teeth, grinning.

His eyes flickered down.

I think.

Damn, I’d been looking at plain walls for too long.

“Absolutely. Half the town probably know your security number and birth weight by now.”

His eyes widened, making the turquoise hue of his irises seem ten times brighter. “Seriously?”

The shock that saddled his expression made me giggle. “No. I’m messing with you. But don’t put it past Irma…Or Marcie at the Coastal.”

He relaxed, shoulders slumping, but he laughed lightly at the mention of Marcie. “Ah, yes. We just met for the first time. I saw she did take-out lunch on my way out of Summer’s place, and stopped in.”

“My condolences,” I offered. “It’s always stressful to meet Marcie for the first time. So I hear. And see when she deals with people’s unruly dates.”

“Unruly dates?” He quirked a dark eyebrow. “Experience with that?”

I held up a hand and fluttered my eyes shut. “Don’t. Just, don’t.”

He laughed. “Story for another time, right?”

“Sure, if by ‘another time’ you mean never.”

A lopsided, half-grin took over his face, making his eyes sparkle. “She heard you’re working for me—but you’re not surprised at that, are you?”

“About as surprised as if you told me the temperature outside feels like we’re halfway up Satan’s ass.”

That grin turned into another bout of laughter. Goosebumps tripled in quantity at the sound as they took over my arms. God, I wouldn’t look colder if I were naked in the Arctic.

“Well, she gave me twice the amount of food she should have, and ordered me to make sure you were well fed. Apparently, she’s able to make me wish I was never born if I don’t.”

“She’s feisty.”

“No kidding. Thanks for the warning.”

“Write me a list of the places you need to go next and I’ll give you the rundown.” I grinned.

“I’ll make sure I do.” He folded his arms across his chest. “So, I have lunch for you downstairs. It beats eating alone. Care to join me?”

I glanced over him quickly.

I’d had worse offers—and dates, lately. Not that this was a date. No, this was Mar—

Shit the bed. She knew what she was doing here.

I was going to kick her ass next time I saw her.

Just not too hard. ‘Cause, you know. She saved my ass more times than she needed hers kicked.

“Let me finish up this edging, then I’ll meet you downstairs,” I said. “Is that okay?”

He nodded. “She said it’s your favorite.”

“Oh my god, she made her pasta?”

“I asked her what was the best, and she said the pasta you love.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Is it unprofessional if I say screw it, I’ll finish this after pasta?”

A smile crept back onto his face. “I won’t tell if you don’t. Take it as my apology for my kids terrorizing you at the start of the week.”

“I wouldn’t say they terrorized me,” I said slowly, laying my brush on the side of the roller tray. I set the lid on the paint can and pushed it in just enough I’d be able to pop it off again without trouble.

“You’re too nice.” His eyes twinkled. “You can say it how it is—I won’t be offended. Fuck knows they terrorize me at seven a.m. every day.”

“I’m maintaining my stance,” I replied, trying not to meet his eyes, because I knew I’d get butterflies if I did.

There was something about the way his damn eyes sparkled.

“It’s best if I finish this edging.” I picked the brush back up. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. I don’t have much left on this wall.”

He glanced at the wall and where I was sitting. “Sounds good. I have some work to handle—I’ll keep it warm.”

“You don’t have to wait for me.”

“Kali,” he said, smirking. “By the time I get stuck into my email, you’ll the one waiting.”

“Wow. You know how to charm a lady.”

He laughed. “Come down when you’re ready.” He turned away, giving me another view of that tight ass of his.

I sighed, turning back to the wall.

Damn, that ass.

 

***

 

Twenty minutes later, I made my way downstairs.

Brantley sat at the kitchen table, his phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder, typing at his computer. “Yes, well I can’t deal with this currently. I haven’t yet been to the office here… I still have a week…I understand that, but—” He glanced at me. “Yes, sir. Understood. Can we continue this? I have a private appointment right now… Yes. Goodbye.”

He pulled the phone from its perch, tapped the screen and placed it face-down on the table. Offering me a tight smile, he closed the laptop and pointed to the microwave. “Sixty seconds and it’ll be perfect.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Did I interrupt an important call?”

His nostrils flared as he inhaled, but he shook his head. “My boss trying to get me back to work at my new office before I’m able to. The office managed before me, they can wait a few more days until I can get there.”

“The twins?” I asked softly.

He hit the button on the microwave. The light came on with the whirr of the machine, revealing two of Marcie’s pots of pasta. “Yep. I tried to source a nanny around here before I moved, but that was surprisingly difficult.”

“Yeah, there isn’t a lot here.” I slid into a seat at the table.

“Let me guess,” he said, amusement tinging his tone. “There’s not a market for it.”

“Oh my god, how did you know?”

He glanced over his shoulder, dark hair almost flipping into his eyes, and smirked. “Lucky guess.”

I laughed, resting my chin on my hand. The table was hard on my elbow. “Summer is who we all use. It was her mom before her, and I think her mom before her.”

“Is there anything in Rock Bay that isn’t a family business?” Brantley pulled the two trays out carefully. He spilled the pasta onto two plates before setting them in front of me with cutlery.

“Thank you.” I flashed him the hint of a smile. “Actually, that’s a great question. I basically took after my dad because I didn’t have much choice. I think the same was for Summer—her dad worked a lot so she was always with her mom, then worked for her when she got older. Hmm.” I stabbed my fork into some pasta. “Have you been to Corkys? The Irish Bar?”

“No. I can’t say that’s a place I’d like the twins to explore.”

“Because it’s a bar or because they’d terrorize it?”

“Because I like to drink in peace,” he replied wryly, a smile matching his tone stretching across his tone.

I fought not to snort as I ate and laughed at the same time. “Well, Corkys isn’t. Paddy—not his real name, by the way—opened it about five years ago. Got pissed off with all the fake Irish in the North-East, apparently.”

“I thought they were real Irish.” Brantley paused. “And isn’t that ironic given his fake name?”

“Kinda, but he’s actually Irish. Accent and everything.”

“Fair enough. What about the other businesses in town?”

I ate as I thought. “There’s Delia’s Diner. She’s more on the road out of town, but still technically in Rock Bay. Her grandma was Delia, her mom Delilah, and her Della.”

“I see the pattern there.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s like the Kardashians heard of them and tried to out-name them.”

“I can honestly say I couldn’t give a rats ass about that family.”

“You should try it. It’s a great stress reliever, because as long as you watch, you know your life will never be as much of a train wreck as theirs.”

Brantley laughed, sipping some water. “I’ll remember that. Sorry—did you want a drink? I’m not used to guests who don’t demand everything in sight.”

“I’m fine.” My lips twisted. “Anyone else in town you want to know about? That might be easier.”

He inclined his head to me, eyes twinkling. “Mrs. Simpson at the Post Office.”

“Ah! Family business there, too. Nobody but a Simpson has run that office for a hundred years.”

“Seriously?”

“Ask Mr. Ibetger at the library.”

Brantley finished his lunch and, pushing it to the side, wiped at his mouth with his thumb. “I have no intention of going near a library, with or without my kids.”

“Shame. He knows everything there is to know about Rock Bay.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to tell me everything about this town?”

I stilled. When I met his eyes, the now-strangely-familiar twinkle of amusement shined back at me.

He was teasing me.

The shit.

“Absolutely,” I answered. “This conversation is positively dreadful. In fact, if Slughorn’s hourglass was sitting between us, it’d be moving slower than a sloth.”

“Yet the sand will still fall quicker than when I argue with my kids about the benefit of drinking water over apple juice.”

Oh. He just Pottered me.

Sigh.

“Well played,” I replied. Then, I sighed. “That’s really a fight you have?”

“You’re not around kids much, are you?” He smirked. “It’s a daily conversation. I could record my responses and shower while the argument happens at this point.”

“See—that’s why I’m not around kids much.” I put down my fork and wiped my mouth with a napkin from the center of the table. “Thank you for bringing back lunch.”

He held up his hands. “Thank Marcie. I don’t think I had a say in the matter.”

“You’ll find you generally don’t where she’s concerned. Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” I stood and picked up my plate. “I need to get back to work now.”

“Let me take it.” His chair scraped along the floor when he got up. “Here.” He took the plate from me and set it next to the sink. “By the way, Kali?”

“Yeah?” I paused, one foot in front of the other.

“You’ve got a little…” He motioned to his cheek. “Sauce. On paint. Right here.”

Frowning, I rubbed at my cheek.

“No. Shit. The other cheek.” He tapped his left one.

I rubbed there, too, but he shook his head, clearly fighting a smile if the twitching of his lips was anything to go by.

“No, hold on.” He swiped a napkin and moved toward me. My breath hitched when he stopped right in front of me, just inches from me. His steady hand held the napkin, and my eyes followed its path as it came closer and closer to my cheek.

Gently, he wiped over my cheek, right by my ear. His gaze glanced toward mine for a second. One that was somehow long enough to make my heart stutter.

“Well,” he said, tilting his head to get a better look, “I got the sauce. I think the paint is dry.”

“How did that even happen? I’m right-handed,” I muttered, touching my fingers to where the napkin had just been.

Lips curved, he stepped back, crumpling the paper towel in his hand. “That’s what I’d like to know.”

“Let me know if you ever find out.” I moved away from him, closer to the door. “I’ll be painting. Maybe a bit of drilling to get rid of some stuff in Eli’s wall. Let me know if I disturb you.”

He waved his hand, setting his plate on the counter. “If you disturb me, I’ll go out. I can work anywhere—you kinda need to be here.”

Over his shoulder, he shot me a stomach-flipping smile that reached his eyes. One that made his eyes flash with laughter. One that put itself firmly in my “Must Resist” book.

“Good point.”

He turned.

Our eyes met.

He winked.

Me?

I basically ran up the stairs.