Written with You (The Regret Duet #2)(50)

“What about the stuff in your garage and your bedroom?”

She shrugged. “The boxes were mainly her clothes and a few other things she’d shipped to me in Puerto Rico when she was supposed to be moving there. I haven’t had the heart to go through them yet. I had a few of my mother’s things in my bedroom, but unless he had a fetish for silk scarves, they can probably be salvaged.”

I eyed her skeptically as she swept the paper towel balls into her hand and carried them to the trash. “I told them we’d come by tomorrow morning around ten so they could take a report of what, if anything, was stolen.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You sure. Having someone break into your house and destroy your property is hard, babe. You don’t have to pretend for my sake. It’s okay to be upset.”

Her deep-red hair brushed her back as she turned to look at me, a peace I never could have imagined only minutes ago gracing her face. “Well, I’m not thrilled about it. But it’s hardly a reason to ruin the night. We’re all safe. He’s gone. And well, the rest was just…stuff.” She stopped in front of me and looped her arms around my hips. “And just think: Now that the coast is clear, you can finally be rid of me.”

This woman. This strong, beautiful, incredible woman. She’d spent the day talking me off the ledge of guilt only to find out her house had been vandalized. And she didn’t care because we were all okay and stuff was just stuff.

I trailed my fingers over the curve of her jaw. “Maybe I don’t want to get rid of you.”

“That’s good considering we haven’t finished our date yet.”

I dipped low and pressed a soft kiss over the bruise on her cheek. “Oh, yeah? How’s that going for you?”

“So far? Five stars.” I grinned until she finished with, “Out of ten.”

“Hey!” I objected.

“I’m not sure if you’re a closer in the boardroom. But there’s still time for you to pick up a few more stars.”

I slid my hands down to her ass. “Oh, I’m a closer.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You totally just went up a half star.”

After nipping at her bottom lip, I mumbled, “A half star for that? Really? We should have no problems getting you to a ten.” I went in for a kiss, opening my mouth, and as if on cue, Rosalee yelled down the stairs.

“Daddy! Can I have my iPad?”

Willow giggled and shook her head.

I loved my daughter. Truly, I did. But it was times like those where I wished she had an off switch.

“No,” I called back, staring into Willow’s eyes. “It’s bedtime. I’ll be right up to tuck you in.”

“Willow too?”

“Yes, ma’am!” she replied.

And in a demonstration of the utmost maturity, I didn’t even stare at her ass as I followed her up the stairs.

Just kidding. I absolutely did.





“It was so gross,” Rosalee whined as I tucked her in and settled on the edge of her bed.

“Don’t say that. You’re going to hurt her feelings.”

Willow propped her shoulder up on the doorjamb. “Oh, I already gathered that she thought it was gross when she hid it under the couch.”

She had done that, but if it had hurt Willow’s feelings, she hadn’t let on at all. Sans the phone call from the police, she hadn’t actually stopped smiling all day.

True to my word, I’d taken her on the date of her dreams—back to my place. We played hide-and-seek in the backyard, and I’m not too proud to admit that this included me sitting on the front steps of the house and drinking a beer while they searched the backyard for over twenty minutes. However, I am proud enough to brag that, once they did find me, I was still able to beat both of them back to base before they tagged me.

Willow claimed I cheated.

Rosalee told her I always cheated.

And while they were fuming and pissed off, I grinned like I was the luckiest man on the planet.

After that, Willow cooked an incredible “family friendly” dinner of white bean quesadillas with spinach and sun-dried tomato orzo. Clearly, she had not eaten a lot of meals with Rosalee though. The moment she said “beans and spinach,” she lost her. This led to Rosalee shoving a quesadilla into the pocket of her shorts, asking to be excused, and then hiding it under the couch. Two hours later, while I was on my hands and knees, cleaning up Willow’s water that had been spilled, I found the hidden meal.

Why was Willow’s water spilled all over the floor?

Well, because Rosalee had asked why the baby zebra came out of the mommy’s butt instead of the tummy while it was giving birth on the Animal Channel and then quickly followed that jarring question by asking if she had come out of Hadley’s butt when she was born. That was followed by me accidentally-on-purpose knocking the water over to escape that discussion.

After the quesadilla was found, I declared that it was time to call it a night.

And that had absolutely nothing to do with the way Willow had been looking at me all night.

Or the way my hands itched to touch her.

Or that, after our day of confessions, for the first time in my entire goddamn life, I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated by gravity.

Or the fact that she’d told me she wanted to end her date in my bed with me whispering her name.