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MEL
The knock on the door came close to eight o’clock, and Mel practically cried with gratitude as she flung open the door. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how thankful I am. I’m so sorry you—”
Her words died on her lips as she soaked in the sight of Blake—all dark and ruggedly handsome in a fitted black suit and red silk tie. His pink cheeks and ruffled dark hair told her he rode his motorcycle. He had the kind of hair a woman could run her hands through.
Mel swallowed and covered her eyes as shame settled into her bones. “Oh my gosh. You were busy, and I interrupted you.”
“I wasn’t.” His deep baritone rumbled through her.
She waved a hand toward him. “No. You clearly were. You were obviously at some kind of event or somewhere important since you’re all dressed up, and I call you like a complete—”
“Mel.” He took her hands away from her face, and dipped his head, forcing her to meet his eyes—eyes the same shade of rich, dark coffee. “It’s okay. Really.” He sighed and stepped back, releasing her hands and running a hand through his hair. “I was actually grateful for the interruption. If I didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t have. After all, you told me it wasn’t urgent.”
Mel nodded. “You’re right. Of course.”
“Mr. B!” All three kids screamed and ran from the bedroom, where they had been looking at picture books in an effort to get them ready for bed.
Peter reached Blake first, catching him around the knees with his little arms, followed by Brady, and Kinsley. All three squealed and hugged his legs tight like a tree.
Mel laughed. “I guess they’re excited to see you.”
Blake reached down and ruffled each of their heads before gently peeling them off his legs and crouching down to meet their eyes. “Hey, isn’t it your bedtime?” He narrowed his eyes, but his grin belied his stern tone.
“No!” Brady crossed his arms over his chest, pouting, while Kinsley stared up at Blake like he was her knight in shining armor.
I know the feeling, baby girl. I know the feeling.
“We almost had a pet mouse,” Peter announced proudly.
“Yeah, until Mom scared him.” Brady scowled.
“Uh, yeah. Mr. Blake doesn’t want to hear about that. Why don’t we go and get your pajamas on?” Mel said.
“But he just got here,” Kinsley whined.
“How about if you guys are good for your mom, I’ll come tuck you in and read you a story after I finish fixing the toilet?” Blake said. When they said nothing, only looked at him with alternating expressions of skepticism, he added, “Come on. You know I do really good voices.”
“Okay,” Peter said, his tiny shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Can I pick the book?” Kinsley asked.
“No. You always pick fairy books,” Brady argued.
“Do not.”
“Do too.”
“Okay, guys.” Blake placed his hands on their backs and guided them toward the bedroom. “How about I pick the book. I’ll pick one you all like, I promise.”
By the time he ushered them into the bedroom and told them to pick out a pair of pajamas, Mel’s throat had closed tight. This is what it would be like, she thought. To have a partner. Blake would make an amazing dad. The thought was so disconcerting, she turned her back to Blake as he reentered the living room.
She cleared her throat, trying to compose her sudden rise of emotion. What was wrong with her?
Blake doubled back toward the entryway, and for the first time, Mel noticed the plastic shopping bag sitting just outside. He snatched it up, then shut the door. “I know you said you had everything, but I stopped and bought supplies just in case,” he said with a shake of the bag, and Mel’s heart nearly burst.
Who knew to win her over, all you had to do was fix a t
oilet?
