“I’m right there with you, baby,” I thought. “Give us some time.”
“I just have to go sign out for my lunch break. I’ll be right there.” She indicated the kitchen. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I set down the bag and placed the sandwiches on the table, adding the chips and sodas. When she joined me, I waved at the pile I had made in the center of the table, looking like an impromptu picnic.
“I didn’t know what you liked. I got egg salad, corned beef, and turkey.”
“That’s great.”
I grinned as she went to the refrigerator and came back with a large jar of pickles.
“I love pickles.”
She winked. “Me too.”
“You gonna turn everything I say into some sort of innuendo?”
She lifted her eyebrows in silent response as she took a bite of the egg salad. I opened the chips and dumped them on the waxed paper the sandwiches were piled on. Paige picked up a curled chip, holding it like a prize.
“Wish chip,” she crowed and gobbled it up, the crunch of the fried potato loud.
I chuckled. “Munchkin at day care?”
“Yes. She loves it there. All the kids and toys.”
I chewed and swallowed. “She’s ah, pretty remarkable.”
“I think so.”
“I think her mother is as well.”
Her sandwich froze midair, and she regarded me warily. “You-you do?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Oh,” was all she said.
“I like her spunkiness. She’s adorable and sweet. Well-behaved yet mischievous.”
“Are you referring to my daughter or me?”
I laughed again. “Both. I think a lot of that comes down to her mother.”
She smiled. “Beth says we’re two peas in a pod.”
“She’s right.”
We ate in companionable silence, sharing the sandwiches and chips. I drank my soda, but I noticed she didn’t. I picked up another curled chip and offered it to her.
“Another wish, Paige?”
She took it. “Best way to end a lunch.”
“Not quite the end,” I said, pulling two large cookies from a smaller bag, and she chuckled.
“You thought of everything.”
“Except coffee.”
“That’s easy.” She stood, switching on the coffee machine. I ogled her openly, watching the way her pants clung to her ass as she moved. The small sliver of skin that appeared over her waistband as she stretched up to get the mugs. She grumbled under her breath, and I stood and reached over her easily, grabbing the mugs. “Got them,” I assured her.
Her back pressed into my chest, molding to me. I heard the hitch in her breath and felt her stiffen slightly.
“You should get a little stool. Or keep them on the lower shelf,” I observed.
She shook her head, turning her face to meet my eyes. “So few cupboards. I need the lower ones for plates and glasses that Evan can reach.”
“I’ll make you a stool, then. A safe one.”
“Okay.”
It took all I had to pull back and not turn her in my arms and kiss her. I wanted to, though. More than my next breath.
I forced myself to sit down, crumpling up the paper and shoving it into the bag. A steaming cup of coffee appeared before me, and the small jug of cream was set down beside it. I offered her a cookie, noting she chose the oatmeal raisin one. I took the chocolate chip, and we both munched quietly for a moment. Then she spoke.
She set the cookie down, wiping her fingers. “Liam, I’m a pretty honest person, so I’m going to lay it on the line here, okay?”
“Perfect. I’m a straight shooter myself.”
“I like you. I mean, you’re easy to like. So is Ronan. Paul and Jeremy have that ability too.”
I grimaced. “I really don’t want to be compared on the same scale as my brothers.”
She blew out a long breath, frustrated. “That didn’t come out right. Your family is very affable. But I like you—specifically. And that is dangerous.”
“For whom?”
“Me.”
“I like you right back, Paige. More than like you.”
“But it’s not just me. I have to put Lucy first.”
“I understand that. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Why did you come here?” Her question was forward and direct, so I responded in the same manner.
“Because I wanted to see you. Without my brothers or Beth or anyone else around. Just you.”
She smiled sadly. “That would be rare with Lucy. She’s with me all the time.”
“No, you misunderstand. I know Lucy is your number one. I respect that. Admire it. I have no problem with the three of us together. I just wanted a little time with you to discuss it. To see if it was a possibility you wanted to explore.” I paused. “To see if you felt this crazy attraction as hard as I did.”
I waited for her answer, my heart beating fast.
“I do,” she whispered.
“Why do I sense a but?”
“It’s complicated. We’re complicated.”
“Because you have a child with special requirements?”
She leaned her elbows on the table. “Because my ex was an asshole and destroyed me. Because my daughter is vulnerable. Because I’m a single mom who struggles to make ends meet. If it weren’t for Beth living with us, I have no idea what I would do. How I would cope. I know who your family is, Liam. I can’t compete with that.”
“I don’t recall asking you to.” I shook my head. “I think I understand Ronan’s reluctance to tell Beth about our family a little more now.” I reached across the table and covered her hands with mine, startled at how cool her palms were. I rubbed her skin to warm it. “My family and their wealth have nothing to do with me, Paige. I’m my own person, making my own way. I own a landscaping company. I dig dirt and plant trees. I plan gardens and landscapes. It’s not a glamorous life. And my family are just people. My mom put herself through school. So did my dad. The only rich one of the bunch was Bentley.” I laughed. “His wife Emmy didn’t want to date him because of his wealth. He convinced her to look past it to see him. And she did. Tell me, did my brothers come across as entitled pricks the other night?”
“No.”
“We weren’t raised that way. My family is down-to-earth. They won’t look down on you.”
“Beth said they were very nice when she met them. Loud but nice.”
I laughed. My family were all loud.
“I’ll be honest. I’m comfortable. More than comfortable. I own my house because of my parents. They gave those who wanted it a piece of land. We had to pay for the house. We pay our share of taxes. Upkeep. It’s our responsibility. My company does really well, but I work hard making it successful.”
“That’s good?” she asked, seemingly puzzled at my words.
“The point is, it doesn’t matter. I don’t care if you have lots of money or none, aside from the fact that I don’t like to think of you struggling. Would you like me better if I were poorer?”
“No, but the playing field might be more equal.”