Could be he’s as lonely as I once was. Before she’d started building her family.
With that thought, Alace toggled the view on the monitor, changing to a map overlay with a single dot in the center of a green rectangle. She zoomed in and saw the park’s name matched one Bebe had mentioned before she’d left the house with Lila in her stroller.
“Beloved.” That single word—fucking, fucking word—rolled over her, and Alace shivered, nipples tingling. Damn, just his voice does shit to me. It would be weeks yet before they could attempt intimacy, and she already found herself counting down the days. “Is that my mother and Lila?”
Alace looked over her shoulder, meeting his gaze without shame. “Yes.” She glanced back at the screen and clicked an icon, changing the overlay from the static map to the satellite imagery showing greater detail, including the park bench where the dot was positioned. “They’re at the park.”
“Alace, did you bug my mother?” He sounded bemused, not angry, so she gave him a tiny smirk over her shoulder this time.
“No. I wouldn’t do that. Unless you asked me to.” She hid the first screen and brought up a portal log-in, entering her complicated pass phrase followed by a security question, which was followed by another pass phrase. Once within the controls, she flicked the display to show the view below the drone she’d had hovering over where her mother-in-law and child sat in the sunshine. “There they are.” Zooming in, she smiled at Phoebe’s attentive interaction with Lila. “Awww, Bebe looks like she’s having a good time.”
“Baby.” She shivered again, looking up at him as his hands settled on her shoulders. Damn, he’s pulling out the big guns. “Did you bug our daughter?” She dipped her chin once, slowly. “And you’re spying on Bebe’s afternoon out?” Alace wrinkled her nose. “Where did you plant the bug?”
“This one is in the stroller.” She ducked her head and turned back to the computer, flipping to the overlay with the location indicator. Tapping out a sequence, she pulled up a different control screen, slowly toggling buttons from red to green. As she did each one, a new marker lit up on the screen. “This one is in the diaper bag. This is the pink dinosaur blanket. This one is the pacifier tether. The bottle holder in the bag. Her dinosaur toy. Her onesie.” When she finished, the space around the bench was littered with dots, each a slightly different color. She stared at the screen and took in a deep breath. “It’s not what it looks like. It’s not that I don’t trust your mother. I do. I trust Bebe with my life. With Lila’s life.”
Eric’s lips touched her temple, holding there for a long kiss. “I understand, beloved. Believe me, I truly understand.”
“It’s too much, isn’t it?” Alace dropped her head back and looked up at him again with a groan. “I’ve officially crossed over into crazyland.”
“If it helps keep our daughter safe, then it would never be too much.” He bent close and kissed her lips, the upside-down positioning making something so familiar feel different and unique. “And you’ve been in crazyland a while now, my dear, sweet Alace. I definitely married the Red Queen.”
Alace huffed out a laugh, then paused, her gaze tracing how the smile he wore changed his face. So gorgeous. “Who’s the Red Queen again? Wait, she’s the crazy one, isn’t she?”
Eric’s smile turned sly. “Maybe a little.”
Chapter Seven
Owen
Hip angled against the kitchen cabinet, Owen rested his weight in a comfortable stance as he watched the kids through the open archway into the living room. They were positioned in front of the TV, Shiloh sitting on the floor near one end of the sofa, Kelly sprawled out over half the cushioned surface. An animated movie about talking cars was playing, one Kelly had promised Shiloh enjoyed, too. The goal was to keep both kids busy enough to stay there, giving Owen a chance to talk to the guest he’d invited over.
Right on schedule, the tablet screen lit up, the motion-activated security camera showing a car pulling into the driveway. Owen tapped a button on his phone, and the garage door began opening, the SUV pulling inside. He tapped the same button, and the garage door closed, visible on the video as he walked towards the connecting door.
Marchant stood beside his vehicle when Owen opened the door. He was sweeping the space with an attentive glance. On his previous visits, he had entered and exited via the front door, so this was new territory. “Hey,” Marchant offered, walking towards Owen with his hand out. “Good to see you again.”
“You too, man.” Owen gripped and shook, their hands lifting twice before he disconnected. “Come on in. I’ve got brews or some brew, depending on what you want.”
“Brews or brew?” Marchant followed him, and Owen noted once again his danger-radar wasn’t pinging at all, no unease at having the man at his back. A mark on the plus side of the column for what he’d planned for tonight. “What’s that mean? Hey, Kelly, Shiloh.” The kids’ heads swiveled towards them, Kelly raising a hesitant hand before looking back at the TV. Shiloh took longer to return to the video, her gaze lingering on Marchant. “They doing well?”
“Yeah, seem to be. Shiloh’s healing, and I’m gradually getting them back to fightin’ weight. They spook easy, though.” He pointed towards the refrigerator. “Brews are in there.” Grabbing a mug, he poured himself a cup of the coffee waiting in the carafe. “And brew is here.”
“Brew, if you don’t mind.” Marchant nodded with a smirk. “Clever boy.”
“All man, thank you very much.” Owen’s brain stuttered at the unintentional innuendo of their back-and-forth banter, and he shook his head. “Sugar?”
“Now you’re calling me sweet?” Mug in hand, Owen swung around to stare at the man, surprised by the blatant humor on his features. “I’m kidding, Marcus. Black works for me. And it’s to be expected the kids will take time to get over the trauma they experienced. It hasn’t been long at all. In the grand scheme of things, a couple of weeks isn’t enough to lay down enough good memories to block out the bad stuff.”
“Are you gay?” The question spilled out before he could stop it, and Owen squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head back and forth. “Shit. Never mind. I don’t care one way or another. That’s not why I called you, at all.”
“Happily queer, yes. And no, I didn’t expect this was a booty call.” Fingers plucked the empty mug from his hand, and Owen stepped backwards, lowering his chin to watch as Marchant made himself at home, pouring the mug full of coffee. “I was afraid something was wrong with one of the kids, but you said no medkit needed when I texted back, so that was a fear laid to rest at least.”
“Dammit, I’m off on the wrong foot. I’ve…” Huffing in frustration, he studied Marchant, noting how the man kept his gaze studiously on the steaming mug. Ten feet separated them, and Owen ran a hand through his hair, ruffling and separating the strands as he tried to settle his unexpected case of nerves. Nothing ventured, he reminded himself, and pointed at the stools next to the breakfast bar. “Let’s sit. Since the couch is occupied by my resident movie-lovers, this’ll do.”