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It was a nightmare.
The next morning, Griffin rubbed eyes gritty from lack of sleep and told himself he might as well get used to it. Sure, Rafe and Katie’s house was big. But he’d been exaggerating a little when he’d assured Nicole that there was plenty of room for all of them.
He’d forgotten that all of the bedrooms led off the same hallway. His room was directly across the hall from Nicole’s, and he could have sworn he heard every move she made during the night.
She’d paced, then sat on the bed with a telltale squeak. Then she’d been up and pacing again. Several times she opened her bedroom door and took the four steps to the room where Connor was sleeping. She’d open that door, walk across the wood floor, pause. Then back across the room, close the door and pace in her own room again.
Okay, it wasn’t the noise that was bothering him. Hell, he’d been known to sleep through a fireworks display, complete with M-80 rockets. No, it had been picturing Nicole, blond hair tousled, bare feet whispering across the floor, that was doing it to him. He wondered what she slept in. Nightgown? T-shirt? Nothing? He’d seen enough of her body in the tank tops and shorts she wore to know that he’d like to see more.
Knowing he couldn’t was annoying the hell out of him.
But he could do this. Play the white knight. Offer her sanctuary, a place to stay, and he could do it all without groping or seducing her. Didn’t sound like much fun, but he could do it.
She was a mother, for God’s sake. And then there was Katie’s threat to consider. Besides, he was thirty-three now. That was the magic number. The age he’d decided would be the end of his days as a player. The age when he would damn well mature whether he wanted to or not.
“And I really don’t want to.”
“Are you talking to yourself?”
He glanced up as Nicole came into the kitchen, Connor on her hip. She was wearing white shorts and a bright pink tank top with matching pink polish on her toes. Her hair was tucked behind her ears and twin silver hoops winked at him in the early sunlight.
“What? No.” He shook his head and focused on the cup of coffee he held between his palms. “I’m just thinking.”
“Wow, you’re a noisy thinker.”
Connor shouted, “Down!”
Griffin winced. It was too early for conversation and way too early for chipper.
“Want some milk, baby?” Nicole asked.
Griffin almost said no thanks.
Connor shouted, “Milk! And cookies!”
Nicole laughed. “No cookies for breakfast.”
Griffin looked at the boy. Such a cute kid. Would it be wrong to put tape across his mouth?
Nicole brought Connor some milk, then took eggs from the fridge and a skillet from the cupboard. She was as comfortable in Katie’s kitchen as she was in her own. “Can I make you something?”
“No, I never eat breakfast,” he mumbled, concentrating on the coffee. Caffeine. The secret to survival.
“It’s Connor’s favorite meal,” she said, and started scrambling eggs, setting the skillet on the stove and in general making a clatter of noise that had Griffin clenching his teeth.
“I’ve decided that I’m going to look at this whole situation as a gift,” Nicole said from her place at the stove.
“Is that right?” Griffin reached out and took away the spoon Connor was beating against the tabletop. The little boy’s features screwed up, his bottom lip poked out and a sheen of tears filled small blue eyes. Griffin sighed and handed the spoon back.
Just keep drinking coffee, he told himself and stood up to get a refill.
“Well, like you said,” Nicole continued, “I have to have it fixed anyway, so I’ve decided to try and look at it like redecorating rather than rebuilding.”
“Probably a good idea,” he allowed as he took his seat again. Connor grinned at him and pounded that spoon with all the fervor of a rock-band drummer.
Griffin was not a morning person. He preferred conversations over a late supper with plenty of wine. He never spent the night with any of the women he...dated, so the morning-after chat had never been on his agenda. Now, not only did he have a woman to talk to, but a two-year-old to endure.
