“Fifty seems a little drastic, no?” I chuckle. Oh to be young again.
The kid’s eyebrows crinkle.
“Did he pay you to tell me what a great guy he is?” I ask, half serious.
Again with the crinkled brows. “I never do what I’m asked.”
“True story,” one of the friends who I thought was paying no attention says.
“Just ask Principal Montgomery,” the other friend chimes in.
“He’s the most successful person to come out of Woods Parlor and never abandoned us.”
“Water break over.” The assistant coach smacks their backs and the boys squirt more water into their mouths and drop the bottles to the ground before running back to the field.
My gaze ventures to Roarke and Sean again, they’re shaking hands.
As I watch Roarke across the field, my gut churns because if he wanted me here to prove that he wasn’t the person I assumed he was, it’s working. He’s so much more and so much better than I ever thought.
Damn it all to hell…I’m falling for him.
Chapter Eighteen
Roarke and I arrive at the church for the rehearsal that evening. For some reason, after meeting her, I didn’t picture Allie marrying in a church.
This time it’s not Allie barreling toward me, but a woman with dark loose hair hanging down around her face. She’s wearing a dress probably one size too small, her feet fighting against the straps of her sandals.
“Roarke, baby,” she coos like he’s a five-year-old.
Please tell me this isn’t Edie.
“Hi, Mom,” Roarke says not giving her a full hug, but more of the acquaintance version of one.
Edie pulls back, her hands gripping his like she’s looking him over.
Her judgment should end in an A-plus. It was all I could do not to jump him when I stepped out of the bathroom at the motel. Dark charcoal slacks, a simple white button-down with the top two buttons undone, the usual silver watch adorning his wrist. He’s a more casual version of his usual self, but still as edible as ever, let me tell you.
“Always too dressed up. You’re in Woods Parlor for heaven’s sake.” She waves him off with her hand. “You could have worn jeans.”
I briefly appraise my own outfit. I’m wearing a wine colored dress that ends above my knee and a pair of sandals with a heel that would usually challenge the height of a man. Not Roarke though, thank goodness.
Edie’s gaze shifts to me and my mouth suddenly dries.
“Hannah, right?” she asks.
She doesn’t pull me in for a hug or even smile for that matter. Instead, her hand extends regally, like she’s meeting the queen. Except it’s almost as if I should kiss her hand. I’m understanding Roarke’s hesitancy with me meeting her.
“Hi, Mrs… Edie.”
I awkwardly go to shake her hand, unsure of what to do but then a loud laugh erupts from her, echoing through the tall ceilings and wooden beams of the old church.
“I’m kidding. Come here you!” She wraps herself around my middle, her face literally between my breasts since she’s so much shorter than me. She rocks our bodies back and forth in a swaying motion.
“Mom,” Roarke bites out.
“You’re the first girl I’ve met since Liv, but who cares about that hussy.”
“Mom,” Roarke says to his mother once more.
“You’re so much more beautiful than her. You’re so elegant, look at you.” She pulls my arms away from my body much like she did with Roarke, inspecting me. “Damn kid, I’m baffled as to why she’s here with you.” Her smile says she doesn’t really mean it.
“Gee, thanks, Mom.” He pulls one of my hands from hers. “Let her go now. She’s not a toy.”
Edie’s eyes take me in one last time. “I just didn’t expect her to be so breathtaking.”
“Cool it,” Roarke says, his jaw clenching harder with each compliment paid to me.
Edie rolls her eyes. “You have to go practice walking your sister down the aisle. Hannah can come hang with me.” Her arm slides through mine, pulling me away.
“Yeah, she’ll be there in a minute.” Roarke pulls me back the other way and I fall into his arms.
“I swear, you need an enema to get out whatever it is that is lodged up that ass of yours, Roarke.” I purse my lips before I burst out laughing.
Roarke shakes his head. “So, you’ve met the whole family. I’ll send you back to Chicago now.”
I laugh finding comfort in the way his arms are around my waist. How did I get in this position and how come I don’t want to move away?
“It’s fine. Wait until you meet my parents.”
Roarke freezes, his arms stiffening. Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
“You’d want me to meet your family?” The smirk on his face says he’ll tease me endlessly, but I can see that under that arrogant persona he’s pleased with the words that came out of my mouth.
“What would I tell them? This is the guy I’m spending time with as part of a five-favor deal?”
Roarke’s face falls. “Yeah, I’d kick a guy’s ass if he did that to my daughter.”
“Roarke? What the hell?” Allie walks into the church in a lace champagne-colored dress, her hair down and curly similar to her mother’s. “Let’s get this show on the road, you know I get itchy in churches.”
Roarke laughs and his hand molds to my cheek. “This conversation isn’t over.”
He loosens his arms and I step out of his embrace, our arms slowly moving apart until we have no choice but to let go. Just when my fingers unhook from his, he pulls me back into his arms.
My hands land on his strong chest and his face nuzzles into my neck. “Also, it’s incredibly unfair that my mom’s face has been between your tits and mine hasn’t. We need to rectify that, and soon.”
Fireworks erupt between my legs.
“ROARKE!” Allie’s voice booms out through the church, much like her mother’s did minutes ago.
His forehead lands on mine. “I really regret bringing you here.” He squeezes his eyes shut for a second.
“Don’t. I like this side of you.”
“What side is that?”
“The caregiver side. You were right. You’re not the man I thought.”
His lips tick up. “So, my plan is working?”
His large hands mold to my hips and I’d do anything to feel his lips on mine right now. Are they soft or firm? Will he take charge or let me guide the pace?
Moron, the man takes charge of everything, he’s definitely going to go alpha when you kiss.
As much as I want my independence and I’m pro-woman everything, I want a man who does just that. I don’t want to have to guide him or tell him anything. Someone who takes care of me in a way that’s not controlling or demeaning. Not some jealous jerk who pisses around me to stake his claim, but someone who shows me off for the prize he thinks I am and because he’s proud of me. Someone there when I get home. Who knows if I had a bad day or whether I’m tired just from looking at me. Could that man be Roarke Baldwin? I wish I knew for sure.