At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(84)

I grinned at him. “Yep.”

He grinned back. “Good.”

He opened the wine while I asked, “How long you been here?”

“Bought it with my half of sellin’ the house. Audrey and I sold before the divorce, she didn’t want me to have it and she couldn’t afford it. Been here about nine months.”

“You like it?”

“Would prefer livin’ closer to work but need three bedrooms and this has that, couldn’t find anything in town that’d work for me and the kids.”

“Where does… um… Audrey live?”

“Apartment in town. Two bedrooms, kids hate it, they have to share. Jonas is fourteen, Clarisse twelve, they’re way too old to share…” he trailed off and handed me a glass of wine before he finished. “She went through her take from the house in about a month. She drives a brand new Merc but lives in a two bedroom dump, can you believe that shit?”

I shook my head, not able to believe that shit, thinking unhappy thoughts for him and his kids, taking a sip of my wine and noting instantly it wasn’t cheap.

“Sweetheart,” he called and I focused on him. “You should know I’m goin’ for full custody. Talked to my lawyer two weeks ago.”

He said this like a warning, like he’d expect me to think this was a bad thing.

“Good,” I told him.

His eyes moved over my face, something working in them, I didn’t know for certain what but it wasn’t like Joe studied me. I could see plain as day whatever he saw he thought was good.

I felt my stomach flutter.

When his eyes caught mine, he said, “We’ll eat in awhile. You wanna see the house?”

“Okay.”

He took my hand and led me out of the kitchen. “Got an HOA, they take care of the greenspace, doesn’t look like yours,” he said, drawing me down a hall off his foyer and looking back to me. “They should hire you though.”

It was a quiet compliment, not effusive but effective.

“Thanks,” I whispered, my belly fluttering again.

He showed me the living room at the back, it ran the length of the house and it was huge. There was a dining room table to one side set to seat four but you could see it took leaves to make it bigger, two more chairs at the wall. The rest was family furniture, big sectional couch, a couple of recliners, comfortable, sturdy but attractive. Stuff you lounged on with your kids and watched TV. There were pictures of the kids and Mike and other photos of other people, his parents (I could tell) and others, maybe his sisters, brothers, their families, friends and they were all over the place. There were shelves with books, DVDs, music, games and a large, flat screen TV, tables everywhere to put drinks on, a nice stereo. Two bay windows, one by the dining table, the other in the living room area, French doors in the middle with tall, slim windows at their sides that opened on a deck. I could see a huge, electric grill and decent furniture on the deck, not a bad-sized yard which a dog was lying in, golden retriever, staring at the doors, tongue lolling, knowing there was company, waiting to be let in so she could give her greeting.

Looking around, I saw that Mike had made an effort. This wasn’t a bachelor pad townhouse he brought his kids to when they came for their time with him. This was their home, a place they could lounge, a place they’d be comfortable and feel safe. I didn’t know a man could do something like that and I didn’t know, in knowing it, that something like that could be so attractive. But it was.

“You have a dog?” I asked.

“Got custody of Layla in the divorce.”

“Layla?”

“Clapton. Great song,” he looked out the windows, “great dog.”

He was right, it was a great song. He had good taste in music.

I looked out the windows to see Layla was now at the door, her tongue still lolling, her body shaking because her tail was wagging so hard.

“She do something to be put into doggie prison?” I asked.

Mike looked at me and asked back, “Pardon?”

“She’s in the yard, there’s a guest, she’s obviously being punished.”

He grinned at me and shook his head. “She’s excitable. I didn’t want her jumpin’ on you,” his head tilted to the side and he finished, “least, not ‘til I got my chance to jump on you.”

There it was, that flutter again.

“You should let her in before she explodes,” I suggested.

“You like dogs?”

“Love ‘em, Keira’s gettin’ her first next week. An American husky.”

“You should go golden,” he advised, walking to the door and Layla was watching him and pacing, her tail still wagging, her tongue still lolling.

“Keira has her heart set,” I replied, he opened the door and Layla burst in. Completely uninterested in her Daddy, she ran straight to me and jumped up the minute she got to me, butting me with her nose, her hind legs bouncing, her front legs pawing at my chest.

“Layla, down,” Mike ordered, his deep voice commanding and she instantly obeyed but she still butted my legs with her head, her body shaking and moving, even though I was bent over her, giving her head a rubdown while trying not to spill my wine on Mike’s nice carpet.

“She’ll calm down as soon as she gets used to your scent,” Mike said, coming back to me.