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Pressing the phone to my chest, I looked up at the rafters of the ceiling above me and sighed. Then I ate my mint chocolate, thinking about the woman who’d given it to me.
It didn’t matter if living here had been the wrong move or not; I wasn’t going anywhere.
25
LUCY OLIVIA
I didn’t see much of Vaughn for the first half of the week.
He seemed to get up a lot earlier than I did on workdays and was in and out of the house before I even got out of bed. But I always saw traces of his presence; either a banana would be missing from the counter or all the dishes would be cleaned and put away.
Tuesday night, I wrote a message to him on the whiteboard I had stuck to my refrigerator.
LUCY OLIVIA: I bought some sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast burritos if you want any. They’re in the freezer.
And by the time I got up the next morning, he’d written back.
VAUGHN: Thanks!
I heard him a little more in the evenings. The back door would open and shut while I was in the nursery, feeding Ava, but I still didn’t actually see him again in the flesh until Wednesday.
I was in the kitchen, making myself some spaghetti for supper when I heard him enter the utility room.
“Hey, Vaughn?” I called.
“Yeah?” He appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raised politely in question. He wore a gray, V-neck T-shirt, black jogging shorts, and had on running shoes. His hair was damp and curling slightly, and sweat stains coated his shirt.
He looked so yummy I momentarily forgot what I’d wanted to say to him.
The man had to furrow his brows in concern and ask, “Everything okay?” before I could jostle myself from my staring ways.
“Sorry! Yes. I was just going to say…” Pausing to clear my throat, I tried to pretend I wasn’t
blushing when I could feel my face heat about twenty degrees. “I’m making some spaghetti and I always have tons leftover. So if you want any….” I lifted my brows, letting the rest of the question dangle.
“Uh…” The uncomfortable expression on his face told me that he did not want any, but politeness had him slowly answering, “Sure, but I…” He motioned over his shoulder. “Do you mind if I shower first? I just got done with a workout.”
My gaze skimmed over him against my will. But, yes, I could tell he’d just gotten done with a workout, and wow, did he look good all sweaty and exhausted. I kind of wanted to give him a full-body, deep tissue massage now. Mmm.
“O-of course,” I fumbled out, forcing my eyes back up to a respectable place. “Take your time. I’m not quite done yet anyway.”
“Great, then,” he said, looking relieved. “I’ll see you in a bit. Thanks.” He patted the door frame in farewell and disappeared from the entryway before I heard the bathroom door shut.
Pressing a hand to my chest, I sighed and whispered, “No. Thank you.”
As if he heard me, the bathroom door reopened. “Oh, I forgot,” he added, reappearing in the doorway.
Shit. My hand was still resting against my heartbeat, and my eyes felt like saucers as I squeaked out, “Yes?” I jerked my hand down, hoping he hadn’t heard my naughty little rejoinder.
His gorgeous lips quirked into a smile before he held up a pack of disposable razors. “Since you said you’d run out too, I got you a refill when I picked up some for myself. Here you go.” And he tossed the package toward me.
I caught the razors against my chest, then held them out and looked down at his kind, considerate gift, feeling like the worst person on the planet.
When I looked up, I knew I was going to start bawling at any moment, and Vaughn immediately read my expression, his own falling with disappointment.
“I got the wrong brand,” he guessed.
“No,” I gushed, hugging the razors to my chest. “They’re perfect. It’s just…” When he stepped toward me, looking concerned, I shook my head in denial and skipped backward away from him. “Oh my God,” I cried. “Why do you have to be so freaking nice? It’s going to make me confess everything, and you’re going to realize how truly awful I am.”
