Until You (The Redemption, #1)(73)

“What?” I ask as he collapses into the chair beside me with a loud, dramatic sigh.

“They’re going to be the death of me.”

“Ah, it can’t be that bad.” I chuckle and pat his arm. “If you think the girls are exhausting now, just wait a couple of years.”

“How would you know?”

I lean over and grin at his male theatrics. “Because I used to be one.”

“Oh yeah. I guess you would know.” He returns the grin.

I look out over the backyard. Colorful balloons and their long strings are tied in clusters all around the backyard. The pizza boxes are empty and stacked on one table. The cupcake station still stands untouched—waiting for candles, wishes, and a birthday song, but the candy tower beside it has been demolished. And when I say demolished, I mean canisters empty and all kinds of sticky, gooey pieces have been stomped into the ground from the mini food fight the girls initiated. The food fight that Crew deemed the Sugar War when he jumped in to join them without batting an eye at the mess being made. The presents are stacked in the shade on the porch.

And the pool is a splash-fest of activity as ten girls, high on sugar, are actually playing with each other—Marco Polo, tag, water volleyball—instead of being curled up staring at their phones.

It’s official. With that thought, I’ve just cemented my status as an old person. Time to break out the AARP card about twenty years too soon.

“What’s that smile on your face for?” Crew asks.

Just one day.

“I’m just thinking how much energy they all have and how it makes me feel old.”

“Far from old.” He hooks an arm around my waist, pulls me onto his lap, and presses a kiss to my lips.

And the fact that he does, and we can, is still so new to me after sneaking around for so long. I’m more than certain if I look toward the pool right now, the sudden feeling on my back would be from two identical pairs of eyes, complete with goofy smiles.

“You did good, Madden. The party. The music. The . . . everything. The girls seem to be having a blast.”

“You may be used to all this organizing and planning and hosting now that you’re thick as thieves with Bobbi Jo and the planning committee, but I’m not. It’s exhausting and—”

“You know us, thick as thieves.” I roll my eyes and laugh. “I think I should be offended by that comment.”

“Considering your phone rings several times a day from her needing you for God knows what.”

“Are you jealous, Crew Madden?”

“Desperately.” He squeezes me. “I’m afraid you’re going to run away with her and leave me here to manage all these girls tonight by myself.”

“You’re the one who agreed to let the girls have a sleepover. A sleepover after they’ve eaten sugar all day, no less.”

“Don’t remind me,” he groans. “I admit. I fully fell for the bait and switch. How was I to know when they asked if Phoebe could sleep over that they were really asking for all eight of them?” I hold his hand out and pretend to wrap a bow around his finger. “Whatever.”

“You love it, and you know it.”

His expression softens as he looks from me to his girls. I can feel the love radiating off him for Addy and Paige. And then he sighs when he takes in the disaster of streamers and candy and wet towels thrown everywhere.

“See?” he asks when he turns to me. “Aren’t you glad your place isn’t ready yet?” I falter at his question. At the one thing I’ve been waiting on to help me separate myself from them. Just one day, Tenny. Think about that tomorrow. Obsess about it tomorrow. For today, just enjoy every second.

“If it were, then you’d sadly miss out on all this fun and exciting picking up we’re going to have to do when this is all over with.”

“No. I think you’re the one who’s glad because having my place ready would give me a place to conveniently slip away to so I could avoid it.”

“You wouldn’t dare leave me to fend for myself with this many girls.”

“Better play your cards right, or I just might.”

“Name your price. Anything. Everything,” he teases and throws his hands up in surrender.

I narrow my eyes and stare at him, a smile crawling across my lips. “How about it’s enough for me to know you owe me.”

“I owe you, huh?” I nod. “Like what kind of favors are we talking about here?”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Like bedroom favors? I mean those I can most definitely do.”

I hold his stare, and between the playful tone in his voice and the knowledge that he can fulfill those types of favors—and fulfill them quite well—I shift off his lap and onto the seat beside him before I give in to the temptation of everything he is and kiss him.

“What’s that look for?” he asks. “You’re thinking of all those favors, aren’t you?” His chuckle, low and rumbling, is a seduction in and of itself.

“I have a confession to make.”

He stops the beer halfway to his lips. “Go on.”

“I saw you. I mean I saw you before that first night we met. I came to introduce myself to the new landlord . . . well, since I’m telling the truth, I came to complain about my pipes. And I saw you. Working in the yard. Lifting railroad ties. Looking like a hero straight from one of the romance novels I edit.”