I couldn’t help but smile, equally in awe of the man as the kiddos were. Seeing him in action like that, watching him navigate this situation with humor and ease, was fascinating.
As the night progressed, Smith and I had zero time alone together, but it was right up there with one of the best nights of my life. The kids had boundless energy, and the life and laughter in this little house was everything a family should be. I soaked it in like a sponge, committing it all to memory. Every uninhibited childish guffaw, every baby squeal of delight, every mess, and every hug.
By the time ten p.m. rolled around, the pizza boxes were empty, the kids were sprawled out across Smith and me on the couch, and I was on cloud nine. Glowing from the inside out, exhausted, but happier than I could ever remember being.
“Thank you,” I murmured softly, running my index finger through Mac’s feathery blond hair and shooting Smith a watery smile. “Thank you so much for inviting me. They’re amazing.”
He nodded and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “So are you. They’re nuts about you.”
I wish you could be nuts about me too, I wanted to whisper. But I held it in and tucked it away deep in my heart.
Life could be a grind sometimes, but tonight had been a rare gem. An oasis of perfection. No way was I going to ruin it.
He leaned in, past baby Mac and over little Winnie, and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to my mouth. As his tongue swept across mine, I said a little prayer.
Come on, Smith. Just give me one chance . . . . and maybe a little hope that we can make this real.
Chapter Twenty-One
“I love those kids.”
I could still hear the warmth in Evie’s voice as she watched Pam’s little monsters running around like lunatics as they played indoor tag.
After the night we’d had, most women would have left, shell-shocked and ready to have their tubes tied. A few might have stuck it out with a grin-and-bear-it attitude. But I was pretty sure almost none of them would have joined in and wound up covered in s’mores under a pile of exhausted little bodies at the end of the night.
Evie hadn’t put up with it, or done it to humor me. Her cheeks had glowed with pleasure, and her lips had been tilted up in a perma-smile. By the time I’d dropped her off at the end of the night, she’d been sporting a pair of crooked braids courtesy of little Winnie, and an electric-purple manicure that covered almost as much of her fingers as it did her nails, but I’ll be damned if she’d ever looked more beautiful to me.
My brain instantly supplied an image of her in that peach lace teddy, and I found myself grinning. Okay, so maybe it was a tie.
The thing that was becoming clearer by the day was exactly how much I enjoyed Evie’s company. Whether she was writhing against me, begging me to make her come, or belly laughing beside me as we watched a movie, she’d managed to work herself into the very fabric of my life.
And I liked it.
I waited for the feeling that always followed that realization. The fight-or-flight response that made me do something stupid to fuck things up, or cut bait and walk away. But cool, never-get-attached Smith was dead silent. Maybe he was dead altogether, because all I felt was hope and excitement for the future. Anticipation of more nights like the one we’d spent with Pam’s kids.
Maybe with our own kids someday?
I gulped down a mouthful of now-tepid coffee, then set the empty mug in the sink.
As crazy as it would have seemed a month ago, now the thought of having some rug rats of my own—rug rats with Evie Reed—didn’t seem crazy at all.
Which meant it was long past time to make an honest man of myself and talk to Cullen. Whatever the outcome, it had to be better than Evie and me sneaking around like a pair of star-crossed teenagers. Cullen was a grown man. He’d be pissed at first, but he’d come around. And then I could finally make this right. I could finally have Evie like I’d dreamed about.
I thumbed through my contacts and tapped Cullen’s number, my muscles tense as I waited for him to pick up.
“What’s up, man?”
He was slightly out of breath, and I glanced at my watch. Eight a.m.
“You already running?” I asked, striving to keep my tone light.
“Nope, just did shoulders at the gym and am about to hit the pavement. Want to join?” he asked.
Seemed like the running trail was as good a place as any to get into this shit. And, hey, at least we’d be close to the lake in the event he straight-up murdered me and needed an easy place to hide the body. After all the lies I’d told him, the least I could do was make it convenient for him.
“Yep, I’m in,” I said. “Meet you by the flagpole in fifteen.”
I was chill as ice cream as I changed into my gym pants and laced up my kicks, but by the time I reached our designated meeting place, my heart was hammering a drumbeat against my ribs. The cadence felt oddly like the lyrics to a song with only one word.
Trai-tor.
Trai-tor.
Trai-tor.