The Bachelor's Little Bonus (Proposals & Promises 3)

“Yes.” She’d donned a long-sleeved purple top with purple and green plaid dorm pants and fuzzy pink socks. “I decided to get comfy for the evening. My clothes were feeling a little tight.”

“Your tea is ready.”

“What did you think about Scott’s idea of renovating the attic?” she asked, following him to the kitchen.

He poured the tea and handed her one of the mugs. “Sounded promising. Now you’ll just have to decide if you want to remodel and stay here or look elsewhere for more space.”

“I do love this house,” she said, gazing wistfully around the kitchen she’d poured her heart, soul and savings into.

“Then maybe you should consider Scott’s suggestions.”

Cupping her mug between her hands, she leaned back against the counter and studied him gravely. “I have one major concern about that plan.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You.”

Taken by surprise, he lowered his mug with a little cough. “Me? Why?”

“I worry that as long as we live here, you’ll think of yourself as a guest in my home. That’s not what I want. Maybe if we sell both houses and invest in someplace new, it will feel like ours rather than mine.”

“Stevie.” Setting his mug on the counter, he rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, really. And I’ll admit this is all taking some getting used to mentally. That’s only natural. I’m already feeling more at home here. If we set up an office upstairs so I’m not running next door for most of the day, it’ll feel even more like my place, too.”

Running a fingertip around the rim of her cup, she eyed him through her lashes. “You really didn’t mind moving in here rather than your house?”

He shrugged. “I like my house fine, but I have no particular emotional attachment to it. I’ve only lived there a year. You grew up in this one. I can sell my place and put some of the profit toward the upstairs remodel, or we can hang on to it as rental property, if we want to deal with the occasional annoyances of being landlords. Doesn’t really matter to me.”

He really didn’t seem to have much of a connection to his house. To him, it was just a place to live and work, a roof over his head. Of course, he’d never shared that home with anyone but his cat. Would that have made a difference? Did he still have warm feelings about whatever home he’d shared with his late wife, or had he seen that place, too, as just basic shelter? Maybe it really didn’t matter to him where they lived, and she could feel less conflicted about staying in this house she didn’t want to leave.

“Okay, we’ll look at the figures Scott works up for us,” she said. “But we’ll make sure there’s plenty of room for you to work up there. I don’t need much space, just a cubbyhole for a desk and computer and maybe some built-in shelves.”

“You pretty much described all I need, as well. I think we’ll get by just fine here.”

Get by. He probably hadn’t intended for that phrase to sound so lackluster. He’d simply been agreeing that Scott’s idea had been a good one.

A workable plan for a growing family in a house she loved and that he considered adequate for their needs. What more could she possibly want?

* * *

They settled into more of a routine during the next three weeks. Every morning, Cole kissed her after breakfast and headed next door to work as she left for her midtown office or job sites. Most afternoons he visited his gym for an hour or so, then put in a couple hours more work before dinner. He insisted on helping her with food prep and cleanup and he did his share of housework. More than his share, perhaps, she thought with a shake of her head.

Unless one of them had an appointment, they spent most evenings at home. Sometimes they played board games, though Cole quickly despaired of teaching her the finer points of Japanese strategy games, for which she had little patience. Conversation was never a challenge. They chatted about work and friends and current events, about politics and religion and philosophy, about literature, music and hobbies they’d sampled over the years. They didn’t always agree, but she found the workings of his mind fascinating, and he seemed to value her opinions in a respectful way that was rather new to her coming from the man in her life.

During those three weeks, they got to know each other in other ways, as well. Stevie was delighted by the increasing awareness that Cole was the best lover she’d ever known. In the bedroom, too, Cole respected her and encouraged her, making her feel beautiful and desirable and sensual. He didn’t play emotional games or try to manipulate her; he simply stated what he liked and expected the same of her. He didn’t use flowery words, of course. No cutesy nicknames. That was so not Cole. He merely murmured her name, and something about hearing it in his deep, rumbly voice affected her in a way no poetry ever had.

She told herself she should be more content than she’d ever been. But an annoying little voice deep inside her whispered that something was still missing. And it still seemed to have something to do with that word...content.

She wished she could say for certain how Cole felt. He appeared to be—she grimaced in response to the word that popped into her mind—content. But was that enough for him? For either of them?

Physically—well, she had no doubt that neither of them had complaints in that area. They were dynamite in bed. Their explosive chemistry had proven a delightful surprise for her, and he’d made it very clear he felt the same. But was he really happy with the way things were going for them otherwise? No secret regrets? They were both mature enough to understand the difference between physical attraction and true love.

Was the life they were making for themselves anything at all like what he’d shared with Natasha?

As subtly as possible for her, she’d tried a couple of times to coax him to talk about his first marriage. After all, that had been a significant part of her husband’s past. Yet every time she’d brought it up, he’d changed the subject. She’d gotten the message that he didn’t want to talk about his late wife. Was it still too painful for him? She couldn’t help wondering wistfully if she would ever measure up to his memories of Natasha. What worried her even more was that someday, even as generous and considerate as he’d been, she wouldn’t be quite as satisfied with what Cole had left for her. Telling herself to stop being greedy and focus on gratitude instead, she pushed those concerns to the back of her mind each time they tried to creep forward.

She met her friends for lunch the third Tuesday in March. As usual, they launched straight into conversation, catching up on everything that had happened since they’d last talked.

“So, anyway, I told Gavin that he absolutely had to back off or I’m going to lose my mind long before this baby ever arrives,” Jenny said, continuing a diatribe to her sympathetic friends. “I told him to save all that helpful hovering for the last few weeks of the pregnancy when I’ll be all bloated and surly and unable to get around easily. I don’t want him burning out on caregiving this early in the process.”