It’s probably pointless to give a shit what she thinks, but that’s the thing with Hayden. I shouldn’t give a shit about a lot of things where she’s concerned, but I do. A lot. And I want her to like the home I’ve built for our son. Nah, scratch that—I want her to love it.
What’s more, I want her to tell me I did good. Maybe say she’s proud of me, too, because whether she knows it or not, I do half the shit I do with her in mind. She might’ve picked someone else, but I’m trying to be the man I promised her I’d be in the letter I left for her.
The letter we’ve never talked about.
I return to the kitchen just as lights flash at the end of the driveway and her car pulls to a stop in front of the garage. I watch from the front door until she climbs out and then I step out onto the porch to greet her.
“You found us,” I say, trying for light and casual, though my heart is beating a mile a minute. Her hair is piled on top of her head, with loose strands curling around her face, which is completely void of makeup. Fucking beautiful.
“I didn’t realize you were so close to the cabin,” she replies, her eyes everywhere at once, the impressed expression exactly what I’d hoped for. “Wow. This is the little house you built?”
I chuckle, knowing the porch lights and lanterns on the garage don’t even show everything. “It’s a lot for just me and Jett, but I wanted plenty of room for him to grow.”
She wraps her arms around herself as a light breeze sweeps across the porch and her tits damn near pop out of her low-cut tank top. She’s also wearing those cropped leggings she loves so much and I know I’m about to love and hate watching her walk inside.
“I guess I should have expected this,” she says with a small smile.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She glances up to me, her lips pursed. “You never were a half-ass kind of guy.”
I chuckle and tip my head toward the front door. “Come in before the mosquitos eat you alive.”
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time. It’s late—”
“It’s late for the Cole Stop, but not for me.” I open the door and wave her by. “Jett’s been down for a while, but I can wake him if you want.”
“No, no.” She shakes her head and passes by, her sweet, sugary scent tickling my nose. “Let him sleep.”
“He played hard today with my dad and Jinx. He probably wouldn’t wake if we tried.” And why the hell are my palms suddenly sweating? “You want something to drink? A beer or I think I might have a couple of those hard ciders…”
“No, thank you. I can’t stay too long or my apples will get brown. Besides, I had a glass of wine earlier. I don’t want to push my luck.” She spins to face me in the foyer, dark eyes a hell of a lot clearer than this morning. “Jesse, this is gorgeous.”
I open my mouth to give an obligatory thanks, but stop myself short, because this is Hayden. The only person whose opinion about my home I’ve ever cared to hear. And I want to show her a hell of a lot more than just the entrance.
“Can I give you a tour?” I run a damp hand around the back of my neck, hoping. “You can poke your head into Jett’s room, at least. See where he sleeps.”
She smiles softly again and nods. “I’d like that.”
“I don’t want to keep you from that pie…”
“It can wait a few minutes.” There’s an airiness to her voice that sends the best kind of shiver down my spine. Only problem is I’m wearing basketball shorts and, if my balls catch wind of that little zap, I’m going to be in trouble.
I clear my throat and tip my head toward the kitchen. “Here’s where I pretend to cook shit.”
She laughs and thankfully turns her attention to the big room to the left. Like the rest of the house, it’s full of dark wood, with modern touches, and I love watching her hand run along the sleek, caramel granite as she takes it all in.
The dining room, a small living room/sitting area, and the first-floor bathroom are next, followed by my office—which I never use—and the family room—which I use every damn day.
“Whoa.” Hayden chuckles when we step inside and I know what’s coming before she even says it. “Jett never told me you had a theater.”
“No?” I fold my arms over my chest and smirk. “Nothing better than watching cartoons on a hundred and fifty inches.”
She presses her lips together and I bite back a laugh of my own, because I have a feeling I know what she’s thinking. Jinx and Aiden said I was overcompensating, but Hayden and I both know that’s not true.
“Let me show you Jett’s room,” I say instead, nodding toward the hall, before leading her back down the hardwood floor to the stairs at the front of the house.
Jett’s room is midway down the hall on the second level and his door is wide open like it always is until I go to bed. I flip on the hall light, so she can get a better look inside, but the second her eyes land on him, curled up in his bed, the light is pointless. She’s not looking at the rest of the room at all.
“Oh, he looks so little in that big bed,” she whispers, her fingertips pressed to her mouth as she lingers just inside the door.
“I thought for sure he’d pick the race car or even bunk beds, but he liked this one best,” I say behind her. It’s just an oak framed twin with a thick ass mattress, nothing special in the least.
“Really? His bed at home—” She stops short and, standing so close, I can hear her swallow. “His bed in Green Bay is a dump truck. He insisted on it.”
“No shit?” I chuckle quietly, pretending I didn’t notice the correction.
“I’ve always thought it was his way of having a little bit of you down there with us.” She glances back at me, dark eyes sparkling with tenderness.
“Maybe.” My heart starts racing again and I suck in a silent breath in hopes of settling it down.
She smiles softly just as Jett stirs in his bed and my hands instinctively go to her hips, pulling her back and out of the room along with me.
It isn’t until I reach around her to close the door, my chest pressing against her back, that I realize what I’m doing.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I step away quickly, scratching one of those greedy hands through my hair. “I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay.” Her own hand lifts to my arm and gentle fingertips graze my skin before dropping away. Just enough to elicit goose bumps and another neck to tailbone shiver. “He can be a bear to get back to sleep when he wakes up like that.”
Uh huh. I hear what she’s saying. She’s right. But also…
I feel it. Just like I did a few weeks ago, standing in front of her flower garden.
There’s still something between us.
And it’s a hell of a lot stronger when she’s standing just a couple of feet away, so close that I can hear her breathe.
The feeling elicits so many questions, too. Like is it really over with Lane? Has she thought about me like I’ve thought about her? Would it be okay if I pulled her close and kissed the hell out of her?
I want to know it all, but I won’t take advantage of her vulnerability, because as much as I feel the simmering tension between us, I also recognize the pain in her eyes.