“Did you want children?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you still?”
I tucked that hope away years ago, after the doctors gave Ellie and me the bad news and she refused to discuss adoption. But now? “If the opportunity arises, I’d like to. The sooner the better. I want to be young enough to enjoy them.”
Mandy nods. “Is Ellie your age?”
“Six years younger.”
“Do you think the age difference was the problem with you two?”
The easy answer is no. When Ellie and I got married, we were both in our twenties and at roughly the same place in life. But I’m not sure that’s what Mandy is really asking. “Maybe. I don’t know whether the age difference had anything to do with her refusal to try working it out. Maybe it was immaturity. Or maybe it was the realization that her thirties were just starting and she didn’t want to spend them tied down to someone she didn’t see a future with?” I shrug. “I don’t know. But she was always looking for something. Herself, I think. I’m not sure how much of a role age played in that.”
“Thank you. I’m not trying to be invasive.” She sets the frying pan aside and blinks up at me in the too-bright kitchen. “I’m trying to figure out if we’d be a good fit.”
I suspected as much. “Take your time. When you decide, I want you to be sure.”
“Does my age bother you?”
“I’ve given it thought, but no. Does my age bother you?”
She shakes her head. “I was never attracted to anyone my own age. Even in fifth grade, I had a crush on my teacher.”
“When did you first think of Barclay as something other than your dad’s friend?”
“Honestly? I don’t think I ever saw him that way.” Mandy hesitates. “It’s funny. My mother was always reluctant to let me spend summers with Harlow at the Reed house because she worried Maxon or Griff would try to hustle me into bed.”
“Did they?”
“Never.”
“Were you ever interested?”
She wrinkles her nose. “They were like older brothers to me, teasing, tormenting… So no.”
I nod, taking that in as I put away the last of the dishes while she wipes down the counter. “Be right back.”
“Sure.”
A few steps later, I exit the front door into the Hawaiian night. The breeze is balmy, the air perfumed. I flip on my phone’s flashlight and check the front gate. No evidence of tampering, and it’s shut tight. Then I walk the perimeter of the house. Since there’s no fence at all in back—wouldn’t want to block the ocean view—there’s nothing to deter intruders. I wish the house itself had an alarm system. That wouldn’t be fool-proof, either. But an extra layer of security would give me some peace of mind. The best I can do now is to hope that Mandy’s would-be killer has no idea where to find her—and be ready in case he does.
After ensuring both the front and back doors are locked tight, and checking the windows for the second time today, I’m satisfied that Mandy and Oliver are as safe here as they can be.
When I enter the kitchen again, she’s finishing a conversation. “Call me tomorrow and let me know you’re okay. Yes, I’m fine.” She pauses. “Oliver went right to sleep. He was exhausted. When will Evan be home?” Another pause. “Good. Stay with Noah and Harlow until then. Sounds like they could use the extra pair of hands since Noah’s mother hurt her ankle.” A last pause. “You, too. Good night.”
That must have been Nia. “How’s your sister?”
“She’s all right. She took your advice and decided to stay with family until her husband returns from London on Wednesday.”
I approach Mandy, fighting one hell of an urge to put my hands all over her. Instead, I cup her face. “You look tired, baby. Why don’t you let me tuck you in?” When she raises a brow at me, I shake my head. “Just sleep.”
“It’s too early. If I go to bed now, I’ll be awake at three a.m. But I’m too tired to return most of these texts and calls I missed earlier.”
“From who?”
“Well, I did text my brother back. Otherwise, he would have sent out the National Guard, but Maxon will have to wait until morning.” She sighs. “And Bruce.”
That raises my hackles. I have no reason or right to be jealous…but I can’t help it. “What does he want?”
“All the predictable stuff. He wants to know where I am so he can come out here and talk to me. He’s crazy enough to do it, too.”
That sends off alarm bells. “Is he crazy enough to harass and threaten you?”
She frowns. “I can’t even picture that. Bruce doesn’t seem like the violent kind.”
Maybe not, but anyone with enough motive can become violent.
“Besides, why would he try to hurt me when he says he just wants me to know how deep his feelings for me are?” She falls quieter. “He wants me to marry him.”
I stiffen. “How do you feel?”
“I’ve resisted because I’ve worried he has his nose too far up my father’s ass. But since Dad tried to buy you off so Bruce could marry me, I’m convinced. Nice to know my instincts were right.”
“Sounds like.” I’m just glad she has no interest in Bruce. If I make Mandy mine, he’s one less bastard for me to fight off.
“Now that Oliver is down, I’m going to take my evening shower. I’ll be back.”
While she does, I find the pump to blow up my inflatable mattress, fit it with some sheets stashed in the closet, grab a quilt and a pillow, and hope it will be comfortable enough to catch some z’s.
When I’m done, I saunter out to the living room to wait. A moment later she emerges, looking clean and wearing a short, silken champagne-colored bathrobe belted around her small waist. A thick braid falls over one dainty shoulder. Her feet are bare.
I’m instantly turned on.
What would it be like to go to bed with her every night and know she’s mine?
“Oh, I feel so much better. Best part of the day, after a long shower and once I’m wearing my favorite frilly nightie.” She stretches, and I try not to look at her rising breasts or her short hem making its way up her thighs. “TV?”
“Sure.” I don’t watch much, but if it makes her happy—and takes my mind off sex—fine.
We both plop onto the sofa, then turn to each other with a matched set of scowls. She’s gaping in shock. “This is the hardest sofa I’ve ever sat on. There’s nothing comfortable about it.”
I nod. “It’s like a damn rock.”
We end up on the floor together since the rug is actually softer. I lean back against the hard-as-stone sofa. Mandy falls against me and curls up to my side, and it seems so natural when I wrap my arm around her. She rests her head on my shoulder as I flip on the TV.
“What do you like to watch?”
“Anymore? I barely have time. But I don’t want to get too involved, so no bingeing.”
“Sure.” I flip a little and find the start of a house hunting show. “This work for you?”
“I love these shows. You ever watch them?”