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My cute, adorable neighbors who bore a striking resemblance to their father. Without all the gruff burliness, of course.
Resolved, I started across the yard. The soles of my sandals clapped against the wooden steps as I climbed onto their porch, and my heart rate spiked with each step that I took.
It seemed pointless to even try to steady my quivering breaths as I crossed to the French doors that were a match to the ones on the guest house.
Inhaling, I lifted my hand and lightly rapped my knuckles against it. A disorder of pounding feet and screeching voices carried before three little people came skidding up to the glass door, vying to get to the door handle first.
“Me!”
“No, me!”
“I already called it!”
It was Olivia who finally whipped it open, and the tiny twins were peeking out from behind her, each wearing enormous, gap-toothed grins.
I swore, they stole the air just looking at them.
They had the whitest hair I’d ever seen, natural curls soft around their cherub faces, lips so red that they looked like perfect little matching angels.
Olivia was just as adorable, and she had this sweet confidence about her that twisted my consciousness around her little fingers. I could almost remember being that way.
Almost.
Excited for life.
Exuding joy.
Anticipating every next step.
“Welcome to our home.” The little girl swept an exaggerated hand over the room before she capped it off with a Plié. A giggle threatened when I saw that she’d changed into a baby blue tutu with a white sequin-emblazoned bodice, tights, and matching white ballet slippers.
I pressed my hand to my chest, dipping into a curtsy to play along. “Oh my, I did not know this was a formal event. I hope I am dressed okay?”
“You are most definitely dressed okay. You don’t even have to worry a single bit. But I’m the hostess, so that means I have to make the very best impression, and this is my nicest dress, and I had it from my ballet recital. That’s called recycling.”
Amusement pulsed. “Well, you definitely made a good impression. You look very pretty.”
The little girl beamed and swished her tutu.
I tried to ignore the heated gaze that burned into me from the side, but it was no use. I peeked that way, and I bit down on my bottom lip when I found Ezra staring back.
All six foot five of him. A giant beast standing in the middle of the kitchen, wearing jeans and a fresh white tee, muscles bulging out all over the place.
My stomach rumbled.
“It’s a good thing we invited you over because it sounds like you’re really very hungry.” Olivia took my hand and led me toward the kitchen.
Right.
Hungry.
The problem was, Ezra looked crazy hungry, too.
Positively famished.
It was becoming clear really fast that I should have declined the invitation. Kept those barriers high and wide. Hell, I should have never agreed to come to stay at his guest house in the first place. Should have refused his offer of help to find a job.
Should have refused the offer to be his friend.
I should have just…refused.
Because standing there in his gorgeous house with his adorable children had me wanting to shout a thousand yeses.
And that’s how girls like me got their hearts broken. They trusted when they shouldn’t. Loved when it hadn’t been earned. Hoped when there was nothing to hope for. And I refused to be that girl ever again.
I was here for a reason, to fight for the one thing that I believed in, for the one person who had ever truly loved me.
On top of that, Ezra…Ezra was broken. Wasn’t he? He had to be.
Except he didn’t look so broken right then. Not when he rippled strength and voracity and looked like he might tear right through the island to get to me.
“You didn’t think we’d leave you to starve in the guest house all by yourself, did you?” Olivia’s little voice broke me out of the stupor, and I looked down in time to catch her widening her brown eyes like it would have been committing the most atrocious crime.
Then I was getting pulled the other direction as the tiniest hand was suddenly tugging against my left. It was Owen, the one whose voice was softer, his demeanor quieter, a slur twisting his words in a way that yanked directly on my spirit. In his other hand he held a stack of thick, colorful blocks that he had built into some kind of tower. “Wook it what I made for you.”
My chest squeezed. “Wow, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Pride radiated from him as he handed it to me. “It’s a castle in the fowest and only pwincesses can wive there. I fink you’re a pwincess, right?”
His mispronunciation became more pronounced the faster he talked, excitement winding into the words.
The other little boy was suddenly in front of us, Oliver jumping up and down. “Hey, hey, Miss Savannah, do you want to sit by me? I got a special spot for you.”
