“A sanger for brekkie sounds good.”
“A sanger for brekkie,” she repeats (with her southern accent I find so charming) as she pulls out the bacon and eggs and sets to work. It doesn’t take her long to prepare our breakfast and so far, so good. We’re finishing up when I hear my phone ring in the living room. I dash to catch it before it stops ringing.
It’s my mum. I wouldn’t answer except I know she’ll keep calling until she gets me. We haven’t spoken in a few days, so I’m sure she’s calling to finalize plans for Christmas Eve. “Hello, Mum.”
“Good morning, Jack Henry. How’s everything at Avalon?”
“Things couldn’t be better.”
“That good, huh?”
I walk into the kitchen and Paige is clearing our breakfast dishes. I walk over to her and whisper, “Don’t. I’ll get it. You did the cooking.”
“Who are you talking to?” Damn. My mum has sonar ears. That’s why I never got away with anything as a kid.
“I have a guest.”
“A female guest?”
She’s going to love this. “Yes, Mum. It’s a woman.”
“She must have spent the night if she’s at your house this time of the morning. I can’t believe you have a girlfriend you haven’t told me about. Are you bringing her home with you for Christmas?”
“No.”
“I want to meet her, son.”
Of course she does. “It’s not that kind of relationship.”
I hear her huff. Really? My mum huffed at me. “And it never will be if you just said that in front of her.”
“She understands.” It’s you who doesn’t understand.
“Trust me. She doesn’t.”
I try to steer her in a different direction. “I think you were calling to touch base with me about your plans for the holidays.”
“That’s right. Everyone will be here around five, and we’ll eat at six.”
She doesn’t have to tell me this. It’s the same every year. “Okay, Mum. I’ll see you then.”
“Please, consider bringing her. It would make me very happy.” Wrong. What she and I are doing wouldn’t make you happy at all.
“No.”
“You break my heart, but I still love you, son. Be careful driving in.”
“I will. Love you too.”
When I hang up, I feel like I need to apologize to Paige for talking about her while she’s standing right in front of me. “I’m sorry about that.”
She shrugs. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
The old girl thinks it’s a tragedy to be almost thirty and unmarried without any prospects. She wants to marry me off to a wife who will start pushing out babies before our first anniversary, like my brother’s wife did.
Not. Gonna. Happen. Hell will freeze over first.
I help finish the dishes and then we’re free. “I’m going to work out. Want to join me?”
She frowns and shrugs. “I didn’t bring the right kind of shoes or clothes for working out. Plus, you don’t have the right kind of equipment for what I do, so I think I’ll take a shower and get ready.”
“Okay, but I’m installing a pole in the gym.” Or maybe the bedroom. I haven’t decided.
She smiles and dismisses my statement with the wave of her hand as she walks toward the bedroom. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
She thinks I’m kidding, but she’ll see I’m not.
Time passes quickly while I do my workout; I can’t stop replaying the last twenty hours in my head. Paige is so different from the others, but in the most spectacular ways.
15
Laurelyn Prescott
The shower is huge and there’s plenty of room for two people. Somewhere not too far in the back of my mind I hope Lachlan joins me, but I don’t expect him to. He’ll be working out for a while. No one has a body like that without spending a lot of time in the gym.
The hot water feels glorious—I’m a little sore today. Because of my usual workout regimen, it’s hard to put me in many positions that will stress my muscles, so props to Lachlan for achieving that.
When I finish in the shower, I linger a little longer. Just in case. When he doesn’t come into the shower with me, I’m a little disappointed, but I don’t dwell on it. We have until he leaves for his parents’ house tomorrow.
I get ready and dress casually since I think we’re staying at the vineyard today. I guess I should’ve asked, but I didn’t, so I choose faded denim shorts and a solid ivory tank. Maybe it’s a little over the top, but I finish the ensemble off with my brown cowgirl boots.
I’m braiding my hair when he comes into the bathroom and we both smile when our eyes meet in the mirror. He’s shirtless and glistening with sweat. Damn, if I hadn’t just showered. “Someone had a productive workout.”
He stands with his hands on his hips, a towel thrown over one shoulder. “I did, thanks to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday and last night, so time got away from me.”
“You don’t look very happy about it.”
“That’s because I wanted to catch you still in the shower.”
“I stayed in a long time because I was hoping you would, but you didn’t, so I gave up on you.”
He walks toward me and I hold up a hand to stop him. “Nope. Too late now, caveman.”
“Okay. Later then.” He smiles and drops his sweaty bottoms to the floor before he kicks them toward a hamper and gets into the shower. Steam immediately billows into the space. “I have some vines I need to check today. Do you want to go out with me to see how they’re doing?”
“I’d love to. There’s not a problem, is there?”
“I hope not, but that’s why I’m going out to check.”
It feels like a sauna in here and I have to get out. How can he stand the water so hot after a workout? “Okay. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”
I’m watching some kind of Australian Christmas special when he plops on the couch beside me. He’s wearing khaki cargo pants and a fitted navy V-neck T-shirt. I can see a few sparse hairs peeking over the V’s point, but I know there’s more underneath and think about how I ran my hands over them last night.
Oh, my. He’s a fine specimen of a man. Very fine indeed.
He puts his hand on my leg and massages it. “Ready?”
“Whenever you are.”