New Year's with the Single Dad, page 16
Eventually, though, she broke their kiss and blinked up at him, her eyes still watery. “I’m sorry if I made you nervous with my hesitation,” she said, her lips now puffy from their fervent kisses. “My answer had been yes from the very start. I just thought I needed to come up with some equally beautiful acceptance speech in response to your heartrending query.”
He smiled down at the woman he loved, the woman who had stolen his heart, but instead of running off with it, she’d only made it grow, made it stronger, made it fuller. “All I need from you is a yes,” he said. “Say you’ll be mine so I can be yours. Let’s make it legal. You and Nolan practically live here anyway. Let’s make it all official.”
A small smile tilted her lips. “How can I say no? Your yard is just so much bigger than mine. I can plant so many more flowers.”
“So that’s why you’re marrying me, because I have a big yard?”
She nodded and pinched her lips together sassily. “Mhmm. I love a man with a big yard.”
He tightened his hold around her and dipped her. “Oh, baby, my yard is huge. I can’t wait for you to get your hands on it. Make it grow.”
Her chuckle warmed him. She really did have a great laugh. He’d fallen in love with her laugh at their very first meeting and continued to fall for it each and every time that soft, joyful sound filled a room.
“We can rent your townhouse, or you can sell it and buy out half of this place. I’m good with whatever you want to do, baby. I just want you and Nolan in mine and JoJo’s life for good. I want the four of us to be a family.”
“I want that too.”
“You two done kissing yet?” Nolan called from the kitchen. “We have pizzas to make.”
“Yeah, and banana splits, too,” JoJo added.
Zara and Emmett both began to laugh, each of them rolling their eyes as they reluctantly parted.
He unzipped her coat and helped her slide out of it, hanging it up on the coat hook behind them.
“We’ll be there in a sec,” Emmett called down the hallway to the children. He retrieved the ring box from her right hand and pulled the ring free from its soft satin cushion. He brought his voice down so just Zara could hear him now. “We need to see if this thing fits.” He picked up her left hand. “Are you going to take it as a bad sign if it doesn’t fit?”
His fiancée didn’t say anything, but the subtle lift of her eyebrow said she was considering it. With a sly grin, she angled her ring finger up a bit to give him greater access, and he made to slide on the ring with its rose gold band (because duh, roses) and intricate floral halo diamond design. A large diamond in the middle, and twenty-four smaller diamonds surrounding it.
He held his breath.
It fit perfectly.
He exhaled.
Phew.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered, lifting her eyes from the ring to his face. New tears made the bright blue glow. “And so was your proposal.”
He rolled his eyes again. “Kids certainly have a way of making things interesting, don’t they?” He released her hand and reached for the two grocery bags before taking her hand once again and leading them both into the kitchen.
“They certainly do,” she confirmed. “Though I think we should move the clocks forward tonight and have a kid-free new year where we make our own memories and keep things interesting.”
Emmett squeezed her hand and waggled his eyebrows up and down. “You got it. Though I really don’t see either of them lasting past ten.”
They entered the kitchen hand in hand to find their children happily making pizzas together.
Emmett’s heart swelled.
This was his family.
His daughter was happy, well-adjusted, and her heart was safe and full.
And now his heart was the same.
He and Zara wandered over to stand in front of their children. He plopped the grocery bags on the counter, then brought her around and placed her back to his front, wrapping his arms around her waist. His chin fell to her shoulder. “I love watching these two,” he murmured, planting a kiss to her neck.
She placed her hands over his. “Me too.”
“You want more kids?” he asked, making sure his voice remained low enough that the pizza twins didn’t hear him.
She craned her neck around to look at him, disbelief and amusement in her eyes. “I’m forty-six years old. My baby-carrying days are behind me. I’m happy with the two we have. I think it’s time we talk about the ol’ snip snip.” She made a scissor-cutting motion with her fingers.
The two we have.
He grinned and squeezed her tighter against him. “Me too. The two we have are perfect. And I’ll meet with the doc for a referral on Monday. Let’s block those swimmers.”
She was still glancing up at him, and he took the loving gaze in her eyes and her slightly parted lips as an invitation to once again take her mouth. He’d never grow tired of kissing his woman and would take every opportunity he could to do so.
“Not again,” JoJo groaned. “They kiss a lot.”
“Can you guys go do that somewhere else?” Nolan asked. “We’re trying to make dinner here, and you two are just goofing around.”
Emmett pulled his lips away from Zara’s but left them hovering just above. “Can we go kiss in the living room?” he asked, glancing at the kids.
They both nodded.
Smiling, he spun Zara out of his arms and took her hand. “Do what you can for the pizzas. You’ve both helped us make them before. When you’ve gone as far as you can on your own, let us know, and we’ll come help you finish.” Then he led his wife-to-be off in the direction of the living room, lifting her up into his arms once they were around the corner and out of the children’s view.
Zara giggled, looping her arms around his until they toppled to the couch, Emmett on top of her. “Those kids … ”
“Are wonderfully independent,” he said with a growl, covering her body and kissing her neck. “Any chance we can send them to bed now?”
She laughed beneath him. “It’s six o’clock, and they can both tell time. Afraid not.”
He peppered kisses over her neck, cheeks, chin and finally landed back on her mouth. “Never hurts to ask.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and began to play with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re right, it doesn’t. And I’m so glad you asked me to marry you.”
Reaching behind him, he took her left hand and laced it with his, kissing the back of it before bringing the ring into view. “Michael and Shane helped me pick it out.”
“They do have superb taste. Though you do too, and I’m sure I would have loved something you picked out as well.” The twinkle in her eye said she was being generous with her compliment .
He kissed her ring finger. “Yeah, but you’re also glad I asked for their opinion.”
She grinned. “I am.”
“You’re going to have to call them with the news. They’re waiting impatiently by their phone.” Zara’s best friend and his husband were so excited to help plan the wedding. Without even asking if Emmett was okay with it, they already planned to show up tomorrow with a stack of bridal magazines. Emmett planned to sleep in.
“I’ll call them in a bit,” she said, tugging on his hair with her free hand. “Right now, I’m going to make out with my fiancé.” She angled her mouth beneath his. “Here’s to a lifetime of friendship, purpose and unconditional love.”
“And hot sex on wine barrels.”
She slipped her tongue into his mouth but not before murmuring, “And hot sex on wine barrels.”
Then he kissed the last woman he would ever kiss, and together they rang in the new year with their children and started to plan not only a wedding, but a true happily ever after.
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Xoxo
Whitley Cox
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Valentine's with the Single Dad, Book 7
Chapter 1
She was back.
Same time.
Same table.
Same drink order.
Same little pink notebook and pen.
Only today, her hair was different. Normally, she kept her short, chin-length, dark brown bob straight with a soft swoosh over her forehead, but today she’d gone and let it get all wavy and had secured the swoosh with a little silver clip on the side of her head.
It helped him see her eyes better.
He really liked her eyes.
Bright gray with soft flecks of white around the iris. He’d never seen anybody with eyes like that before. And the way the corners crinkled when she smiled or took a sip of her wine made the apples of her cheeks lift and go extra round.
He had no idea what her name was because she kept to herself, but for the past three weeks, the woman had been coming into his bar every Tuesday and Thursday night. She would sit in the same spot every night. Order the same thing every night. And there she would stay from eight fifteen until ten fifteen. She would drink nothing but wine or water, and over the course of those two hours, she would entertain—though it looked more like interview—a different man every half hour or so. Some men made it to nearly the one-hour mark, while others were sent on their way before their drinks turned warm.
They would chat. She would smile but ultimately let him do the majority of the talking. Then they would shake hands and the man would be on his way—never to return again, or so it seemed.
Was she doing her own variation of speed dating?
Was she interviewing them for jobs?
Was she a pimp—or a madam—and vetting potential gigolos?
All the guys who had sat down with her so far were not trolls. In fact, they were all pretty decent-looking, so maybe she was interviewing them for an all-male burlesque show.
Either way, the woman who sat at the table by the window intrigued the crap out of Mason. He thought about her all the time. She was like a song or tune stuck in his head. He just couldn’t shake her—and he didn’t want to.
He looked forward to Tuesday and Thursday nights. He’d actually switched his shifts around with the general manager so that he always worked Tuesday and Thursday nights. This mystery woman had put a spell on him, and he just needed to know more.
What was her name?
Where did she work?
What was she doing every Tuesday and Thursday night, sitting in his bar with a different man every thirty minutes?
Normally, he would have had no problem walking up to the woman, offering her his hand and asking what she was up to. He was, after all, the owner of Prime Sports Bar and Grill and a very friendly, outgoing person, but for some reason, he got the impression that she wanted to be left alone. She had a slight sense of almost embarrassment in her face as she met each man, shook his hand and sat down with him. As if she didn’t really want to be there but was doing so because she had to. It only made the mystery behind her all the more alluring, all the more exciting.
She was also crazy-cute, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt butterflies in his stomach at the thought of approaching her for more than just her drink order.
He glanced at his watch. It was closing in on ten o’clock. She would be leaving soon.
Pulling the lever on the tap for the San Camanez Lager, he filled up a pint for an order that had just come in. He’d gotten so good at filling up a draft that he didn’t really have to pay attention or watch what he was doing. He simply counted in his head, tilted the glass just right, and ninety-nine percent of the time, he was dead on when he dropped his gaze again and pulled the pint glass free.
Tonight was in that ninety-nine percent.
He plopped the beer stein down onto the bar so the waitress could come and grab it along with the rest of the drinks ordered. His eyes remained glued to the back of the head of the man who was currently entertaining—or should he say failing to entertain—Mason’s mystery woman.
Then the guy stood up.
Mason glanced at his watch again. Oh, this dude was obviously a dud. He didn’t even make the full thirty minutes.
The dud grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and slipped his arms into the sleeves before nodding at Mason’s mystery woman and then making haste to leave the bar, leaving her sitting there all alone, a bored, disappointed look on her face.
Was she going to get up and leave now?
She never stayed past ten fifteen, and it was now ten o’clock. Surely, she didn’t have another “date” lined up.
He hoped she didn’t.
He checked in with his mother to see how his four-month-old daughter Willow was doing. She’d had a bit of a cold last week and was still a touch congested but seemed to be sleeping better and in brighter spirits. His mother claimed that all was well with Willow and that she’d fallen asleep on Mason’s father’s chest, and even though Willow could sleep in her bassinet, Mason’s dad hadn’t bothered to move her.
“They’re only little for such a short time,” his mother had said. “Let us indulge in her babyness for as long as we can.”
Mason simply rolled his eyes. Who was he to get upset when he did the same thing? Whenever Willow fell asleep on his chest, the world stopped and he simply took in the moment. His mother was right; they were only little for such a short time. Before he knew it, she would be crawling and then walking and then out with her friends, with no time for dear old dad.
His heart ached at the thought of his little Willow old enough to go to parties and spend time with boys. Was it too late to have a tracking device implanted behind her ear?
Slowly, as the minutes ticked by, the bar began to empty, but his mystery woman remained. All the servers left, and the kitchen closed in ten minutes. Lingering were just a couple of women in their mid-forties chatting away near the back of the pub and Mason’s mystery woman.
She was staring at her notebook, but he could tell by the way she tapped her pen on the paper and chewed on her bottom lip that she wasn’t really paying attention to whatever she’d written. She was lost in thought.
He needed to let her know it was last call. They closed at eleven on Tuesdays.
He dried his hand on a towel and stepped out from behind the bar. Tossing his shoulders back and cracking his neck side to side, he approached her table. “Hey, there. It’s last call. Would you like another pinot?” He stopped directly in front of her and waited for her to lift her head. Her eyes slowly climbed his body. He resisted the urge to grin, even though he secretly got a big thrill when her gray eyes widened as they fell to the front of his pants.
She swallowed hard when her gaze finally landed on his face. She blinked. “Yes, please,” she said softly, her eyes drifting back down to her notepad.
“Are you meeting anybody else tonight?” He couldn’t stop himself. The curiosity was like an itch he just needed to scratch.
Slowly, she shook her head but didn’t lift her eyes back up to him. “No, I’m not.”
Swallowing, he shifted on his heels. “Can I ask what you’ve been up to all these weeks? You’re here twice a week for two hours meeting with several different men an evening.” He scratched the back of his neck. “The waitresses are starting to talk.”
That wasn’t a lie. The servers were beginning to question what this woman’s angle was, but Mason doubted their curiosity was as strong as his. Otherwise, they could have asked her.
Once again, her gaze climbed him. “I’m trying to hire a date,” she said, her cheeks turning a beautiful shade of pink. “I’m hiring a date for a wedding.”
His brows shot up his forehead and he took a small step back. That hadn’t been the answer he’d been expecting at all. Why in the world did this gorgeous creature need to pay somebody to date her? He could only imagine that any red-blooded man in his right mind would jump at the chance to take her out her for free.
He needed to know more. He needed to know the full story.
“You hungry?” he asked.
She squinted at him but then nodded. He could just see the cogs spinning in her brain as she tried to figure out what he was up to.
He wasn’t even sure what he was up to yet. All he knew was that he wasn’t ready to watch her walk out the door, and now that he’d started talking to her, he needed to continue. He needed to get to know her.
“Gonna see if Barry in the back can make me a plate of nachos before the kitchen closes. Wanna share? On the house if you tell me the full story of why you feel the need to pay for a date.”
She was very cautious. The way she stewed on his words and took a serious pause before replying had him wondering if he’d come on too strong and she was suddenly going to grab her purse and dash out, never to return.
But that wasn’t the case.
Thankfully.
She gathered her coat and purse from the back of her chair and then finally that little pink notebook and pen. “I’ll join you at the bar,” she said, standing up to her full height, which was a hell of a lot shorter than him. He hadn’t realized just how short she was. He’d always approached her when she was sitting down.
Nodding and resisting the urge to fist pump in the air, he grabbed her empty wineglass off the table, as well as the half-finished beer of her last potential date for hire, and headed back behind the bar.
He quickly poured her a glass of the pinot she’d been drinking every night for the past few weeks, then slid the glass across the shiny wooden bar. “All right, Ms. … ”
“Lowenna Chambers,” she said, accepting the glass and immediately taking a sip.
Lowenna Chambers.
He rolled her name around on his tongue for a moment. He liked it. It suited her. It held a sense of sophistication he’d picked up the first night she’d come in.
“And your name?” she asked, her head tilted to the side, waiting.
