The kids are showered and bathed, curled up on the couch in the living room eating chips, popcorn, cookies, and whatever other junk food I could provide while they watch a movie. Grayson is playing a game on my Kindle, my last resort to get him to sit still for a little while when after dinner he got crazy hyper. I also folded and gave McKenzie my cell phone. I think I saw her smile a little. Thank goodness I have unlimited text and data.
“Five pizzas,” Connor mumbles in disbelief as he pulls the trash bag from the bin and holds it open for me so I can shove some paper plates in it.
I laugh. “They’re kids. How much could they possibly eat?” I jest.
“That’s one pizza per kid,” he notes, ignoring my stab at him.
“Yep.”
“Mark almost ate three of those pizzas by himself,” Connor continues, his tone still laced with disbelief. “I knew three hundred pound men in prison that couldn’t eat that much.”
Connor and I haven’t even eaten. The three pepperoni and two cheese pizzas we ordered are gone. I even made a salad with the vegetables the Jenson’s brought over and cut up strawberries. All of it—gone.
“Three of them aren’t even teenagers yet,” Connor adds.
“I know. I have no idea how Wendy and Jeff do it.”
As he ties up the trash bag, I grab the empty pizza boxes, and we head out to the garbage cans by the garage.
“That Mrs. Jenson was something else,” he states randomly.
“I know,” I squeeze my eyes closed, cringing. The way she eyed Connor was so rude. There’s no way he missed it. “Sorry you had to deal with that. Mr. Jenson is pretty nice, but she can be a total asshat sometimes.”
“He seems fond of the children,” Connor surmises as I shove the pizza boxes, down in the trashcan.
“Always has been and they love him.”
“McKenzie didn’t seem real fond of him,” he adds as we head back for the porch steps. As we reach the screen door, he moves to the side as he opens it, and as I pass by his large hand finds the small of my back, guiding me in. My body straightens as I pass by him, his touch affecting me more than I care to admit.
“Beer?” I offer as I open the fridge to grab one for myself. Five Tuffman kids can certainly drive a person to drink.
“Definitely,” he groans. When I hand him one, he nods in thanks. “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“Other than surviving?” I laugh as I twist the cap off my bottle. Taking a long swig, I moan as I pull the bottle away. Damn, there’s nothing like a cold beer after a long day. When I look at Connor, he’s staring at me, his dark eyes fixated on my mouth. I lick my lips, a nervous habit of mine, and his chest rises as he inhales deeply. Am I imagining this—this attraction between us? I can’t deny it’s there, for me anyway. His rough exterior; muscles and tats, draw me in, but it’s the soft side of him that awes me. Every day he shows a little more of that beauty inside of him and every day he draws me in more and more. Tearing his gaze from mine, he turns and chugs his beer.
I blink a few times, wondering if I read that look wrong. Did I see it right or was it that I wanted to see it that way?
“Who is Vick and what does he mean by ‘it really is tiny’?” Kenzie says, as she bursts into the kitchen. My eyes widen as I yank my phone from her hand.
“Hey!” She pouts as I thumb through my texts. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“No. We’ve been on one date,” I answer, not sure why I’m telling a fifteen-year-old this.
“He says he regrets not kissing you for real the other night,” McKenzie drones on. Damn, will she ever stop talking? I’m dying of embarrassment but not before I dart my eyes to Connor. It was only a moment ago I was wondering if we were sharing a moment. Now he’s staring out the kitchen window, his back to us.
“Thank you, McKenzie. I think you’ve had enough phone time for tonight.”