“Let me get this straight. You offered the woman you’re working for to help her unpack boxes on your day off… and you don’t like her?”
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.” I sigh.
He grins, crossing his arms over his chest. “Gia and I will be there.”
“Now I’m thinking I don’t want you two to come.”
“Oh, we’re coming.” He smiles.
Fuck me, why did I say anything? “This isn’t an invitation for you or Gia to ask her a hundred and one questions.”
“You know I have zero control over what my wife does or says, so I’m not gonna make any promises, but I can tell you I’ll be cool.”
Knowing Gia, I have no doubt she’ll be cool too, but I also know she tends to protect the people she cares about, so I don’t know what might happen. I still need to find a way to smooth things over with Aria before Saturday, and I’m not sure how that will go.
“I’ll talk to Gia tonight when I get home,” he says as my cell starts to ring.
When I flip it over, I see Anna is calling. I don’t want to answer, but knowing Olivia is with her, I pick it up and put it to my ear. Two minutes later, I regret that I did as I listen to Anna tell me what a shit dad and man I am, before I end up hanging up on her, finishing my beer, then going home alone.
________________
With what I hope is a peace offering in hand, I press my elbow into the doorbell, then stand back and wait, listening to the sound of feet hitting the wood floors. When the door is pulled open, I bite back a groan. Not many women look good minutes after they are woken up, but Aria—with her face still soft with sleep, her hair a wild mass around her face and shoulders, and her outfit of a thin tank, short shorts, and a thin cotton robe—is a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning for the rest of my life.
“Tide.” She blinks, looking adorably confused. “What are you doing here?”
“I fucked up.” I push a cup of coffee out toward her, and she takes hold of it and steps back as I step into the house.
“You…” She glances around, looking adorably confused, then meets my gaze once more. “What?”
“Last night, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did when you asked me to leave.” I walk around the couch still in the middle of the kitchen and set the paper bag I’m holding on the counter.
“You shouldn’t have?”
I turn to look at her, catching her as she tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear, looking surprised by my admission.
“I shouldn’t have,” I repeat as I begin to unpack the bagels and cream cheese from the bag.
“Are those from Leo’s?” she asks as I feel her take a step closer to me.
“They are. Do you have a toaster?” I feel her breast press against my bicep, and the scent of lavender fills my nostrils as she reaches past me to set her cup on the counter. The innocent contact shouldn’t affect me, but my cock jerks, and I fight myself from wrapping my arm around her waist and turning her in my arms to press my mouth against hers.
“I do.” She moves away, oblivious to my thoughts, and I turn to find her behind me, tearing off the tape from one of the boxes. “It’s in one of these boxes… or it should be,” she says as she pulls it open and looks inside, dragging out what looks like a ball of Halloween garland that probably should have been tossed out. “I might not have been the best at organizing when the movers came.” She blows a thick strand of hair out of her face as she drops the ball to the floor, then she digs deeper into the box before closing the lid and opening another one. When she starts to move that box to the floor, I stop her by placing my hand on top of it.
“We can just use the oven. For all you know, the toaster is in your bedroom.”
“You might be right.” She smiles, and that piece of hair she’s been fighting with falls in her face. Without thinking, I reach out and touch her cheek, then slide the hair back behind her ear, hearing her inhale a sharp breath. My eyes drop to her very tempting mouth, and she steps back quickly, not realizing the arm of the couch is behind her.
“Shit.” I reach out to catch her before she can tumble over it, but I’m too late. I don’t know what I expect to happen, but I don’t expect to hear her start to laugh. Chuckling, I move to the side of the couch and look down at her smiling face. “You okay?”
“I’m okay, but I really do need to get the couch out of the kitchen.” She takes my hand when I hold it out to her to help her up, and she ducks her head as she adjusts her tank and shorts. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” She looks up at me, and I watch in amazement as her cheeks turn pink. I don’t know that I’ve seen a woman blush since I was a kid, and there is something enduring and seriously attractive about the innocent reaction. Not wanting her uncomfortable, I take a step back, turn toward the stove, flip it on, then ask, “How did it go with your parents last night?”
“My dad was drunk, and my mom was her normal, judgmental self, so it went about as good as you’d think it would,” she says, and I raise a brow as I look over my shoulder at her. “You’ve lived here a long time. I’m sure you’ve had the unpleasant experience of coming into contact with my parents before.” She chews her bottom lip as I start to cut one of the bagels in half. “That’s the only reason I didn’t ask you to come in last night.” She spits out the words so quickly they spin together.
“I figured that much out once I had time to think about it.”
“You did? But….”
“My reaction was shit, and you’re right. I know your parents, so even though it shouldn’t matter—”
“You thought I was embarrassed of you,” she cuts me off, and I jerk up my chin in an affirmative. “I was actually saving you.” She sighs while picking up her cup of coffee. “I don’t even want to spend time with my parents, so I wouldn’t want to subject anyone else to them.”
“You don’t get along?”
“I’m indifferent to them. I wish I wasn’t, but the reality is they are not people I would choose to have a relationship with, but DNA didn’t leave that option up to me.”
“That sucks, babe.” It’s an understatement and something I can’t even relate to. I’m close with my family. My dad and I are tight, and my mom is still as doting as she’s always been. Then there’s my sister, who is one of my best friends even as she lives on the other side of the country.
“It is what it is.”
“Why’d you move back here then, if you guys aren’t close?”
“This was the only place that felt right when I started looking for places to move to after I decided to leave San Francisco.” She turns her back to the counter, then hops up to sit on it. “I mean, I knew I would have to see my parents at least every three months after running out of excuses to keep avoiding them, but that’s about how often I saw them when I was in California, and I survived those visits,” she says, making me chuckle. “Honestly, I probably shot myself in the foot. I’m sure, now that I’m home, they’re going to expect me to show up for their parties and whatnot, but I promised myself that I would only do things I want to do from here on out, and I refuse to break a promise to myself.”