Be My Hero (Forbidden Men #3)(82)

"Didn't you see everything I bought last night—or the night before—when you were in the kitchen, eating supper . . . and breakfast?"

"No." He shook his head as he settled next to me on the bed, placing Julian between us. Then he started a picnic with the food, letting Julian gnaw briefly on his nectarine before he stole it back. "I was too busy eating, and staring at you, and running off to my next job in between getting hit on by your cousin to notice much else."

"Oh, she was not hitting on you."

"Whatever." He shrugged. "You know, you keep treating me this good, I may never let you leave."

I couldn't say what I was really feeling, which was, who said I wanted to leave? But I definitely thought it. I think we were going to have to worry about me suffering more from attachment issues than Julian would.





Chapter 20


PICK


So the week progressed. And then a couple more days. I lived on a daily high where no one could bring me down, no matter what they did or said. I'd always been good at rolling with the flow and taking things in stride, but now I actually smiled through it all. Life was just amazing.

I didn't care if I woke up every morning with a raging hard-on that not even yanking off in the shower could calm. I woke up next to her. The smell of lilacs on my sheets, her hand resting next to my pillow only inches from my face, accidently spooning with her on some nights. Yeah, I had no complaints.

"So, how're things working out with Eva?" Mason asked one night, just before we opened the club, where I'd actually arrived on time to work . . . for the eighth stretch in a row.

He must've realized I was thinking about Tink, because his knowing smirk made me scowl.

"Oh, it's just . . . you know . . . awful." I gave an exaggerated roll of my eyes. "Supper's waiting on me every night when I get home from the garage. My apartment's spotless. The laundry's always folded and put away. My kid's happier and healthier than he's ever been, and this drop-dead gorgeous woman parades around in front of me nonstop, wearing ass-hugging yoga pants. It just, yeah, totally sucks."

Mason chuckled. "I didn't realize exactly how much E. did around our place too, until she was gone. Strangely, we kind of miss her."

I frowned, ready to tell him he couldn't have her back. She was mine.

"I didn't know she was going to actually move in with you while she watched your kid, though," he added. Narrowing my eyes, I studied him, trying to figure out what he was really saying. He shrugged. "I know you work some long hours, but there were a few nights in there you didn't work late at Forbidden."

Eva and I had always managed to fill those nights with reasons for her to stick around until it was basically too late to drive her to Mason and Reese's. Once we'd borrowed a couple strollers for the kids and took a walk down by the nearest park. On another night, we'd cooked spaghetti together and ended up talking afterward until almost midnight.

But Mason's blatant comment made me realize what I'd been doing. I'd been playing house with my dream girl, using her on borrowed time, and relishing every damn minute of it. I didn't like his questions, though. They threatened my paradise.

"What're you getting at, Lowe?"

He lifted his hands and laughed uneasily. "Hey, I'm not complaining. I finally have Reese to myself, and that rocks. I'm just . . . concerned. You two slipped into this domestic little . . . whatever it is, way too easily. What's going to happen when you get your regular sitter back? You just going to send her home to us without a backward glance? Or what if your wife returns? Where does Eva fit in this?"

I shook my head. "My wife's not—" I stopped short, telling myself he was right. What I was doing with Eva was selfish, and it couldn't last. I groaned and glanced away. "So, what're you saying I should do?"

Mason shrugged. "Hell, I have no idea what you should do. I'm just saying don't hurt her. Keep her, send her back, whatever. But if you hurt her, you'll upset Reese. And that will piss me off."

I nodded, a little miffed he was more concerned about affecting Reese than Tinker Bell. But Reese was his girlfriend, so I guess it made sense.

"I get that." I nodded. "And I'll talk to Tink about it. Make sure she's getting what she wants from this."

Mason was silent after that, seeming satisfied by my answer.

But I never did talk to Eva. I was too afraid she might say she wanted to leave once this was over, or maybe that she was counting down the days to break free . . . just as Tristy had done.

***



It was bound to happen. Thirteen days after Tinker Bell came to watch my kid, the chicken pox passed from my neighbor's apartment, and they were no longer contagious threats.

That night at dinner, Eva waited until we were seated at the table—Julian slapping at the top of his high chair and Skylar nestled over her shoulder—before she said, "So, Mrs. Rojas called today . . . "

The baked potato I was chewing caught in my throat. Why the hell had Mrs. Rojas called the landline too, when she'd also called my cell phone? I'd been trying to forget or at least put off responding to the conversation I'd had with her for as long as possible. Like maybe another week or so. A decade perhaps.

Eva glanced up at me, her gaze seeking, trying to read me. "I guess they're all healthy, and you finally have your regular sitter back."