A Forever Kind of Family (8 page)

She shook her head, as baffled as she was frustrated by the intensity of her response to him. The man only had to touch her and she’d practically melted into a puddle at his feet. And he knew it—dammit.

The attraction had always been there, but she’d managed to ignore it. Mostly. Of course, that was a lot easier to do when she’d crossed paths with him only a couple of times a year. Now that they were living together, it was a lot more difficult to disregard the tension between them. But she was determined to give it her best effort.

Her plan to act as if the kiss had never happened lasted only until Oliver was tucked into bed that night. When Ryan came downstairs, she was sitting on the sofa with her tablet, scanning reviews of Elaine Hiller’s work and making notes for Caroline for the next day.

He sat beside her, angling himself against the arm of the chair so that he was facing her, and asked, “Are we ever going to talk about it?”

She considered her response as she copied and pasted a particularly favorable quote. “What is ‘it’?” she finally said. “My negligent parenting or the kiss?”

“I was referring to the kiss,” he admitted. “But before we get to that, you should know that what happened today is in no way a reflection of your parenting skills.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true. It could have happened when I was here—it could have happened with both of us here.”

“But it didn’t—it happened on my watch,” she said, feeling not just responsible but miserable about it.

“Okay—let me ask you a question,” he said. “Do you think my mom is a pretty good mother?”

“Your mom is amazing.”

“So you wouldn’t question her maternal skills?”

“Of course not.”

“And yet I visited the hospital three times before my first birthday.”

She eyed him skeptically. “Really?”

“The first time I was only seven months old—Justin swung a plastic bat and caught me above the eye.” He touched his right eyebrow. “Right there—four stitches.”

She leaned closer to look at the barely visible scar.

“When I was ten months old,” he continued, “I swallowed one of Braden’s marbles, apparently because he told me it was candy. Of course, I only have his word for that—it’s not as if I actually remember what he said. And less than a month after that, I fell down the stairs and ended up with a concussion. That time, they had to keep me in the hospital overnight for observation.”

“Your mother wasn’t a bad mother—she just had rotten kids.”

He chuckled. “There might be some truth to that. No doubt we kept her busy with countless cuts and bumps and bruises for a lot of years, during which time she was constantly worried that Family Services would show up at the door.”

Her heart started to pound—she hadn’t considered the possibility that anyone would think what happened was anything other than an accident. Yes, she should have been keeping an eye on Oliver, but it really was an accident.

The panic that was tying knots in her belly must have shown in her face, because Ryan said, “No one is going to call Family Services because Oliver pulled a cookie jar down off the counter.”

She nodded, because she wanted to believe him.

“So let’s move on to what happened after the cookie-jar caper.”

“You kissed me,” she said, determined to downplay the event.

“You kissed me back.”

She could hardly deny it, so she tried to explain it instead. “It was an emotional moment. I was worried about Oliver and I felt responsible for what happened, and you were there for me—so...thank you.”

His lips twitched, as if he was fighting against a smile. “Anytime.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Actually, it’s probably best if we agree that it won’t happen again,” she said. “Our situation is already complicated enough without adding sex to the equation.”

“I don’t disagree,” he told her. “But I think that kiss today proved the attraction between us might be stronger than your determination to ignore it.”

* * *

In the four weeks that had passed since they’d moved into the house to take care of Oliver, Harper and Ryan had made an effort to work together. But since the kiss they’d shared at the hospital, Harper had been trying to put as much distance between them as possible.

Bath time had been one of the fun tasks that they usually tackled together. The first time had been a wet adventure for all of them. Oliver loved splashing in the water, pushing his boats through the water and squeezing water out of his animal squirters—and onto Harper and Ryan. He was less enthralled with the washing of his hair and his body, so they’d learned to get that part over with first and let him enjoy some playtime after.

Tonight when she heard Ryan running Oliver’s bath, she resisted the impulse to offer her help. Instead she stayed in the kitchen to clean up from the little boy’s snack. Jam toast meant sticky fingerprints and crumbs all over his high chair.

She bypassed the dishwasher in favor of hand-washing the little boy’s plate and cup, wiped down the high chair and scrubbed counters that were already spotless. She didn’t realize how much time she’d spent on those tasks until Ryan returned with the baby clean and dressed in a dinosaur-print cotton sleeper.

“You’re going to scrub the spots right out of the granite,” he told her.

She folded the cloth over the towel rail under the sink and reached for the baby.

“Look at you all ready for night-nights,” she said.

“Ni-ni,” he agreed.

Her heart hitched inside her chest when he snuggled against her. And then, of course, he slipped his hand inside her shirt. Thankfully, Ryan, filling the baby’s sippy cup with milk, didn’t seem to notice.

“I think I’m going to sit outside with him for a little while tonight so that he can look at the stars,” Harper said.

“I’ll grab his blanket,” Ryan said.

He did, and then opened the French doors that led out to the flagstone patio. It wasn’t completely dark yet, but the solar garden lights that marked the edge of the patio glowed softly in the twilight.

Harper lowered herself onto one end of the wicker sectional. Ryan took the seat in the corner so that he could sit sideways, facing her.

“Do you remember when they bought this house?” he asked.

She nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “Melissa was so excited.”

“I think Darren was more apprehensive than excited,” Ryan told her. “He’d told me that they were looking for a starter home and somehow they ended up with a four-bedroom two-story overlooking a golf course—and he didn’t even golf.”

Melissa had confided to Harper that Darren didn’t even want to go to the open house at first, because the property was outside the upper end of their price range. But she’d convinced him to take a look because it had everything they wanted: it was in a good neighborhood, close to all conveniences, within walking distance to the local schools and had a backyard big enough for all their children—because they planned to have at least three—to run and play.

“She wanted it more than he did,” Harper acknowledged.

“And he would have given her anything to make her happy.”

“The first time she brought me here, I could see why she fell in love with it.” The inside of the house had been perfect. The four bedrooms included a fabulous master suite with a balcony overlooking the backyard; plus, there were three baths, a spacious eat-in kitchen with granite countertops and high-end appliances, a main-floor office/den, hardwood floors, cathedral ceilings and tons of windows to let in natural light.

“You obviously didn’t see the backyard.”

She chuckled softly in response to his dry tone. “Not until later.”

“Because it was a disaster—and probably turned away so many prospective buyers that the sellers felt lucky to get Melissa and Darren’s offer.”

He was right—not only had the former owners not done anything with the green space, they’d completely neglected it so that it was overrun with weeds, except where their hounds had dug up the ground, and littered with dog feces.

Darren and Ryan had done the cleanup, shoveling poop and hacking down weeds, while Melissa and Harper had toured local nurseries for plants and shrubs. She didn’t know the names of even half of the flowers that she’d helped her friend put into the ground, but Melissa had diligently researched the soil and light to ensure a successful garden.

“It looks great now,” she said, because it did.

Two years after the big cleanup, the garden was thriving. Tulips, daffodils and hyacinths were in bloom, adding bright splashes of red, yellow and purple to the landscape. As spring shifted to summer, other flowers and colors would take their places, but Melissa wouldn’t be here to enjoy the prosperity of her garden.

Harper blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. “Tulips were her favorite flowers—she’d be thrilled to see them blooming.”

“Of course they’re blooming,” Ryan said. “The bulbs were planted in well-fertilized soil.”

She managed a smile. “They were happy here. Not for long enough—but they were happy here.”

“So why do you look sad?”

“I got a call from Simon Moore today.”

“Who?”

“The real estate agent.”

Ryan frowned. “What did he want?”

“He wondered if we’d made any decisions about what we were going to do with the house.”

“We’re living in it.”

“Right now,” she agreed. “But I figured that was an interim arrangement.”

“I figured it was a logical arrangement,” he countered.

“We need to consider all of our options.”

“What options? There’s no room in my condo for even half of Oliver’s stuff, so unless you’ve got more space than I do...” His words trailed off.

She shook her head. “I don’t.” And she’d already sublet her apartment, anyway. “But there’s got to be some middle ground between a one-bedroom walk-up and a three-thousand-square-foot home on a half-acre lot.”

“It’s a lot of space,” he agreed. “But it’s a great neighborhood for a family—the neighborhood Melissa and Darren picked for their son.”

“You’re right,” she agreed. “But Simon offered to come by on Saturday with some recent comparable sales to help us decide what we want to do.”

“There’s nothing to decide.”

“Melissa and Darren named us guardians of their son and his property—jointly,” she reminded him in what she thought was a very reasonable tone. “Which is why I’m trying to discuss this with you.”

He set his jaw, an obvious sign that he was determined to be
un
reasonable. “No discussion necessary. We’re not moving.”

She sighed. “I just thought we should talk about the possibility.”

“We just did,” he said.

Chapter Six

H
arper knew Ryan was right.

She also realized that she should have waited to introduce a discussion about the house until after they’d made a decision about day care for Oliver, because Ryan’s refusal to move ahead on that issue was a clear indication of his unwillingness to upset the new status quo.

And it probably was too soon to be thinking about making any other major changes in Oliver’s life, and moving was undoubtedly a major change. She didn’t even mind admitting that Ryan was right in this instance—or she wouldn’t have if he didn’t act so authoritative and self-righteous.

Even so, she should have contacted Simon and told him not to come. But because she was mad at Ryan—or maybe just mad that he was right—she went through the motions with the real estate agent anyway.

Having sold the house to Melissa and Darren, Simon was familiar with the property and only wanted to do a quick walk-through. They finished up in the kitchen, where she offered him a cup of the coffee she’d made before he arrived. He accepted and they sat side by side at the island, drinking coffee and going over the sales reports on similar neighborhood properties that he’d generated for her.

“Thanks for this,” she said, tapping a finger on top of the reports. “But I don’t think we’re ready to put the house on the market just yet.”

“It’s too soon,” Simon guessed.

She nodded.

“I thought it probably was,” he said. “But I didn’t want you to miss out on the opportunity to list while the market was hot, as it is right now.”

“We’ll let you know if we change our minds,” she assured him, grateful for his understanding.

“I’d appreciate it,” he said, zipping up his portfolio. “So now that our business is concluded, how are you holding up?”

“Me?”

He smiled. “Yes, you.”

“Oh, I’m doing okay.” She sipped her coffee. “At least, I pretend that I am.”

“You’ve been busy,” he noted, and she knew he was referring to the pile of boxes in the master bedroom, designated for donation to Goodwill.

“It’s hard to sit around surrounded by the memories. I find it helps to keep busy. Or if it doesn’t help, it gives me a sense of accomplishment.”

“You need a break,” Simon told her.

“Maybe,” she acknowledged, although she couldn’t see one anywhere on the horizon.

“Why don’t you let me take you out tonight?”

“Oh...um...” Through their tour of the house and conversation, she’d found him sincere and easy to talk to—but she honestly hadn’t perceived any signs of personal interest and wasn’t sure how to reply now.

“We’ll go somewhere with soft lighting and quiet music,” he suggested. “Share some food and wine and get to know one another better.”

“That’s...tempting,” she told him.

He smiled. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the invitation, but I can’t.”

“Can’t tonight or can’t at all?”

“At all,” she admitted. “Not right now, anyway.”

He nodded and dropped a business card on top of the paperwork. “Call me if you change your mind.”

“About selling, you mean?”

He smiled again and held her gaze. “About anything.”

* * *

Ryan waited until she’d closed the door behind the real estate agent before he stepped into the kitchen to refill his own mug of coffee.

“You could have said yes,” he told her. And then, in case she thought he meant about selling, he clarified, “About dinner, I mean.”