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Blake toyed with his phone before shoving it in his pocket. He didn’t like seeming like a yo-yo with women. He wasn’t. But he couldn’t deny his growing feelings for Mel.
When he said nothing, Grant chuckled. “I’ll save the I told you so’s for when you screw things up playing Mr. Mom. Catch,” he said, tossing Blake a wrench.
Blake glanced down at the tool in his hand and grinned. It would be good to come back. Then he shuffled toward the gleaming black bike behind his brother and went to work.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MEL
It was funny how quickly life changed, Mel mused. One day, you’re worn down and run ragged. The next, you’re thrilled at the prospect of your future and anxiously awaiting what else life may have to offer. That was particularly true as she entered her apartment after work on Monday. All she had thought about since she got the highly anticipated call from Gloria was coming home and sharing the good news with her kids, and Blake for the matter. As much as he wasn’t supposed to be, in just a matter of weeks, he felt like a permanent fixture in her life. She knew he wasn’t, of course. Despite his promises to visit the kids, she knew, once he returned to his normal day-to-day and they moved, it was unlikely they’d see him again. But coming home to the kids’ smiling faces and Blake to greet her felt right, regardless of how wrong it might be.
So as she unlocked the door to her apartment and stepped inside, she ignored the little voice inside her head that told her she shouldn’t feel something for Blake when it would only end in heartache. Instead, she allowed herself the excitement of sharing the news with him and the kids.
When she entered, she found them easily. All four sat at the kitchen table. A plate of orange slices sat in front of each of her kids, along with a box of crayons and paper. Mel’s heart leapt in her chest as all eyes turned on her—particularly the set of espresso brown ones beneath beautifully arched brows.
She glanced away, meeting each of their expectant gazes before she said, “Guess what?”
The kids smiled, catching on. They loved this game.
“We’re getting pizza?” Brady asked. Food was always on that boy’s mind, even at four.
“Are we getting a dog?” Peter asked, beaming. He’d been stuck on the pet thing lately, and the idea of getting them a puppy for Christmas was a reality.
But Mel shook her head. “No. In a way, you’re close, though.”
“A kitty?” Kinsley asked, eyes bright.
Mel laughed. “No. But those things might be possible because . . . “
Now it was Blake’s turn to grin as he said, “You got the house.”
“Yes!” Mel squealed and did a little jump. “We got the house.” She raised her hands in the air as the children jumped from their seats and plowed into her legs.
Blake stood, crossing the room, his mouth spread into a glorious smile. “Congratulations.” Then he reached out, and much to her surprise, pulled her into a hug with the children between them.
Mel’s breath caught, and her heart pounded embarrassingly hard in her chest. So much so, she was sure he could feel it.
“So what are we doing to celebrate?” he asked, and the warmth of his breath caressed the shell of her ear, making her shiver before he pulled back. The fact that he included himself in said celebrating was not lost on her.
Below them, Brady screamed, “Pizza!”
Blake stepped back and caught met Mel’s gaze before they burst into laughter.
Blake bent down and ruffled his hair. “Pizza it is,” Blake said.
AFTER THE KIDS WERE tucked away, nice and cozy in their beds, Mel stood beside Blake at the sink, while he insisted on washing the dishes and she dried.
It was quiet, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock in the living room. With his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows, Blake reached into the soapy sink water and pulled out a dish, washing it clean, then rinsing and handing it over.
Their fingers brushed as Mel took the plate from him, a jolt of electricity zipping down her arm at the contact. Their eyes met, and she glanced away again. “Just think, in a little over a month, I won’t have to do this by hand anymore.”
“Braggart,” Blake teased.
Mel glanced up at him and grinned. “I bet your place has a dishwasher.”
“It’s a waste for just one person.” He scrubbed another dish, rinsed then handed it over.
Mel pictured his apartment. If it was as she imagined, it was decidedly male with dark colors, and she bet it smelled like him—like cut wood, and cinnamon, and spice.
