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What I’d really like to do is pull her into my arms and kiss her. But I won’t. Not with the teens and Ella and Eli just inside the house or anybody in the neighborhood possibly being nosy and watching. Not even when Jenna’s standing there in skinny jeans that hug her legs perfectly, a soft-looking yellow T-shirt, and wisps of hair are framing her cheeks, blowing slightly in the breeze that’s picking up.
“Yes,” I say, sliding my hands into my pockets to avoid reaching for her. Now that we’ve kissed it’s hard to pretend there’s nothing between us. Especially with what I’m about to tell her. “Ella discovered she’s very good at making chocolate chip cookies this afternoon.”
Jenna’s eyes soften at the mention of her daughter. “She’s probably better in the kitchen than I am.”
My mind flashes to early Saturday morning—sitting on that barstool as Jenna wiped my face with that hot washcloth, as her small hands combed through my hair. I haven’t felt such a strong physical pull to a woman since Sierra, but I’m determined to do things differently with Jenna than I did with Sierra, just like Jen wants to do it differently than with Pete.
That doesn’t mean I don’t want her. I want her as badly as any man in his right mind would want her.
That said, her strong convictions make me determined to do my very best to give her the relationship she very clearly wants.
“I don’t know about that,” I tease, my voice lowering. “Maybe at cooking, but you’re pretty good at cleaning.”
She must catch my line of thought because her cheeks pinken and she drops her gaze, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Inside my pocket, my fingers itch to break free and do that for her.
“As you know, Eli called meDaddyon Saturday when I was putting him back to sleep,” I continue instead, and my statement makes her eyes dart to meet mine. I hold up a hand when she opens her mouth. “I know you’re gonna launch into a spiel of how you’re sorry if it’s too soon and blah, blah, blah. No. It’s not—Not for me, anyway. But today, as we ate our cookies on the bench with my sister, Ella asked me point-blank if she could call me Daddy.”
To my surprise, Jenna masks any shock she feels extremely well. She freezes, but her voice is even when she speaks. “And what did you tell her?”
“I didn’t. My sister picked up on my surprise and somehow managed to change the subject inconspicuously.”
“Jess is going to be an amazing mother.”
I nod.
Jenna nibbles her lower lip, and heaven help me, but I have to force myself to focus directly on her eyes. My resistance to pulling her around the side of this house and kissing her senseless is fraying with every minute that passes.
“What did youwantto tell her?” she asks quietly.
I exhale a breath. “Yes. And no, because I know I’m not her daddy. And even if you and I get to the point of marriage, I never will be. I might think Pete should just go to—” at her amused lip quirk, I change directions “—his own little world and stay there forever. But I’m not an idiot. He’ll always be the kids’ father.”
“Yes. He will.” Jenna takes a step closer to me and dares to put her palms on my chest. Clearly she can’t sense my barely-there restraint. I may as well be shirtless. The woman’s touch feels like it’s directly on my skin, and I am not mad about it. “But, and correct me if I’m wrong, we’ve discussed the difference between a dad and a father. Jude is your father; John has been like a dad. Pete is my kids’ father, but I’ll let you in on a little secret.” She lifts onto her tiptoes, hands pressing into my chest for support, and whispers near my ear. I might go up in smoke right here. At least I’ll go out with the woman I love holding me. “In the past three years, your actions have cemented you as an important part of Ella and Eli’s lives, especially these last couple months. My daughter has longed for a daddy since Pete left us. I’m not about to let the fact that Pete’s their father decide who they will get to call Daddy…forever?”
I give up. My hands land on Jenna’s waist as I pull her into me, smiling down at her when she lowers to the soles of her feet. “I really like the sound of that word.”
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs, gaze focused on my neck as she smooths the collar of my T-shirt into place. “Also, Pete never paid me the courtesy of telling me he and—”
Thunder booms across the sky. A loud crash from inside the house, followed by a curse from what sounds like Mazzy, has me snapping out of the moment Jenna and I were in. I release her and hop onto the porch, pushing the door open, my gaze quickly assessing the situation. Based on the paint coating some of the floor and the kids’ clothing and part of the wall we have primed, somebody dropped the paint can currently rolling around on its side while they were pouring it into the plastic paint tray lying beside it.
“God, I should’ve known I needed to leave!” Mazzy’s hot words are negated by a slight wobble, and I block the doorway instinctively when she tries to barrel past me. “Please, just let me go. I don’t belong here. Just let me go!”
“No.” My voice is firm, but not harsh. I don’t budge. “Not until you explain what happened in here.”
When Mazzy doesn’t respond, I glance at the other teens. “Well?”
“Mazzy was about to pour some paint into the tray when it thundered, and she dropped the can,” Luka says evenly. I wish I could hire the kid onto my department on the spot. There’s nothing I respect more than a man who can keep his cool in a heated moment. “We tried to tell her it would be fine, but then she freaked out.”
Mazzy growls in frustration and tries once again to get around me. She might be on the taller side for a girl, but I’m still at least a half foot taller and much broader than her. I grasp her arm to keep her in place, making sure to keep my hold non-dominant. Clearly there’s more than meets the eye here, and I’m not about to let an eighteen-year-old drive off in such a rattled state.
“Luka and Alessia, please take Ella and Eli down the hall to see what we’ve done in the bedrooms so far,” I say. “Colin, I’d like for you to go out to my truck and get the rags in the backseat, then start cleaning up the paint. Mazzy, you and I and Jenna are going to talk—”
Another rumble of thunder, and Mazzy folds into my chest. At first, I think she fainted, until I realize she’s shaking and murmuring something into my shirt. I should feel relieved she’s not unconscious, but there’s still something wrong, and I need to know what it is.
“Mazzy, talk to me,” I say quietly. “What’s going on?”
“The-the thunder.” Her words are almost inaudible because they’re so shaky. “And the car. And I can’t be here because I—No, no, no! Not again! I don’t want to be here for this.”
Then it clicks.
