Law Man (Dream Man #3)(82)

We came back and I made the pizza having to do the crust by hand because my breadmaker was at my house.

Then Mitch came home.

“Mitch!” Billie shouted, launching herself off the couch, hurtling the short expanse to the door that he’d taken one step through and wrapping her arms around his hips, giving him a tight hug leaning her head way back to look up his long length. “We’re havin’ Auntie Mara’s chicken pizza!”

Mitch’s hand cupped the back of her head as he grinned down at her and muttered, “I know, gorgeous.” Then he leaned down, picked her up, stepped out of the door with her in his arms and closed it while asking, “You doin’ better, honey?”

She nodded enthusiastically.

“Good,” he murmured and I actually saw his arms give her a squeeze which made another sweet whoosh swoop through my belly. Then his eyes went to Billy and he called, “Hey Bud.”

“Hey Mitch. My homework’s all done,” Billy announced swiftly and the swift way he announced it was not in a braggy kid way or the precursor to asking for something after pointing out he’d been good. It was something else, something that didn’t sit right with me and I studied him trying to figure it out but stopped studying him when Mitch plonked Billie over the back of the couch so she was seated beside me then his lips were at my neck.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he whispered there then kissed me.

My chest warmed and I turned and tipped back my head as he slightly lifted his.

“Hey,” I whispered, immediately lost in his eyes.

“Finally,” he murmured, those eyes now smiling, “I get your pizza.”

At that I frowned.

And at that, Mitch burst out laughing. Then I felt his fingers wrap around my ponytail, he gently tugged my head back further and touched his laughing mouth to mine.

Obviously, I quit frowning.

Then he let me go and walked toward his bedroom, shrugging off his jacket.

I watched him go, unable to shrug off the safer, snugger, warmer, better cocoon that was fitting itself around me and this was mostly because I didn’t try.

We ate pizza and we did it at the dining room table because Mitch decreed we would. And as we ate pizza at his dining room table, I slid deeper into my dream world because I’d never had this, never, not in my life. Sitting around a cool table. Eating great pizza (if I did say so myself). Listening to kids jabber and a beautiful man’s deep, attractive voice interject. Watching people I cared about smile and share their days, their lives, their thoughts.

And I knew Billy and Billie hadn’t had that either and I knew they liked it as much as me.

Maybe more.

Watching Billie’s animation which, if it could be believed, had ratcheted up three notches while her own personal safe, snug, warm cocoon fit around her. And watching Billy watch Mitch and emulate the way he used his utensils and sat in his chair, finally having a good, decent man as role model…

Definitely more.

My safer, snugger, warmer and much, much better cocoon only felt slightly funny when Billy announced what appeared to be desperately he was going to do the dishes. Then he also apparently desperately went about doing that quickly so Mitch nor I could talk him out of it or help. He didn’t even let us clear the table.

I watched this feeling troubled then I felt something else. That something was coming from Mitch so my eyes moved to him and saw that he, too, was watching Billy working diligently in the kitchen and his eyes were also troubled.

He must have felt my gaze on him, his came to me, I tipped my head to the side and he whispered, “Later, sweetheart,” so I nodded.

Mitch was stretched out on the couch watching a baseball game after I’d got the kids to bed. I rounded the couch, his eyes came to me and my eyes went to him.

“Come here, baby.”

My gaze drifted over him and he looked so good lying on his couch, his eyes on me as gentle as his voice had been, my mind settled deeply in my dream world and my body automatically drifted to him. When I was in arm’s reach, he did an ab curl, his fingers gripped my h*ps and then I was tucked with the couch at my back, his side at my front and my cheek was to his chest.

“Finish the game with me and then I’ll let you go to bed,” he muttered.

“’Kay,” I muttered back.

His arm curled around my back and his fingers trailed random patterns over the material of my jeans at my hip. I sighed and wrapped my arm around his stomach.

See? Totally insane.

I heard his voice rumble even as I felt it when he murmured, “Your pizza isn’t good.”

I blinked but I was so deep in my dream world, snuggled on the couch with Mitch that was all I had the capacity to do before I murmured back, “It isn’t?”

His fingers dug into my hip when he replied, “No, honey. It’s f**kin’ great.”

I didn’t know I could relax more into him but at his words, I did and I added a squeeze of my arm around his stomach.

His arm around my back reciprocated the squeeze.

Then he muttered, “Thanks for cleaning the house.”

He noticed.

God, he was so nice.

“You’re welcome. Thanks for letting us stay,” I muttered back on another squeeze of his abs.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered.

Another whoosh swept through my belly then his fingers went back to trailing and I stared vacantly at the game. Mitch stared at it too and I figured his wasn’t vacant but with all that was happening and another full day, I didn’t have the energy to lift my head to look. All I had the energy to do was feel his warm, hard body at my front, the relaxing movements of his fingers at my hip, the steadiness of his chest rising and falling with his breathing.