5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Cat

I sit across from Nora at the expansive kitchen island, sunlight streaming through the large bay windows and gleaming off the polished beige granite countertops. My spoon pushes aside the colorful marshmallows floating in my bowl of Lucky Charms.

Nora smirks at me over her steaming mug of coffee. “Seriously, you still save them for the end?”

I shoot her a mischievous grin, tucking a stray lock of my unruly curls behind my ear. “Damn right.”

The fitted T-shirt I threw on this morning rides up slightly as I lean back in the cushioned barstool, exposing a strip of my midriff above my Wonder Woman pajama shorts. It's nice to have a lazy morning off while the guys have the kids out at their activities. Leo's been gone most of the week for away games, so he was eager to spend time reconnecting with Mason and Stella.

“How’s it going, living here?” Nora asks as she scans the immaculate, modern kitchen that looks straight out of a magazine spread. Sleek stainless steel appliances, gleaming hardwood floors, not a thing out of place. Her eyes linger on the state-of-the-art refrigerator, its surface so polished I can see our reflections in it.

“You see the house? It’s fucking awesome.” My voice echoes slightly in the spacious room, reminding me how different this is from my one bedroom apartment.

Nora raises an eyebrow at me. “But . . .?”

Shoving a heaping spoonful of cereal into my mouth, I chew vehemently for a moment, stalling.

“Cat.”

I swallow hard, the lump of cereal feeling like a rock in my throat. “Just, it's not my apartment.” I gesture around with my spoon, droplets of milk splattering on the pristine countertop. I quickly wipe them away with my napkin. “This place is immaculate. Leo has everything in place. It's also not my home. I'm only here temporarily.”

Translation, I don't feel comfortable simply kicking back.

She nods, her brown eyes shimmering with understanding. “I get it. Even renting my house, there are times I feel like I'm breaking some rule.”

“Exactly.” I set my spoon down, the metal clinking against the ceramic bowl. My fingers drum nervously on the countertop as I continue. “I constantly feel like I'm being judged, even when Leo's not around. Like I'm a temporary guest who needs to be on my best behavior 24/7 in his perfect house. Wish I could be more like Wyatt. That jackass just adapts so easily.”

My best friend rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“Speaking of houses, have you guys been looking for a new place?” I take another spoonful of cereal and chew, waiting for her response.

The house Nora is currently renting is too small for the three of them, and when I was there it was just all that much smaller, which is one of the biggest reasons I decided to help Leo out. Of course, I adore his children and he was in a jam. Being an Alonso, I had to help. But he also has space, something Nora doesn’t.

She spins the mug on the countertop, staring down into it. The ceramic makes a soft scraping sound against the granite, filling the silence.

“Nora.”

“We have and I hate it.”

I reach over and place my hand on hers. She doesn’t need to say more. I know her. And she hates Wyatt’s insisting on paying for the house. Nora would have a problem even going fifty-fifty with him. “You know you have nothing to prove, right?”

Her shoulders slump forward. “I know.”

“And Wyatt loves you. The two of you are getting married.” I squeeze her fingers lightly. “Wyatt wants to give you and Jake the best. It’s okay to receive good things.”

She sighs, her eyes misty. “I’m working on it. After everything with Michael, it's difficult to accept that someone wants to take care of me without there being an ulterior motive.”

I nod, understanding all too well. I hate that fucker and what he put her through. “So, did you find any houses you actually like?”

“Fortunately, no.” She looks around the kitchen. “Though, this place is to die for.”

I laugh. “Yeah, I think Leo should be hosting game night from now on. What about the wedding?”

Nora smiles, all her unshed tears now gone, replaced instead with brightness. “We’ve decided either Hawaii or Malaysia. It’ll be easier for my parents that way. And Ian offered to get ordained to marry us.”

“Holy shit. Malaysia would be awesome!” I drop my spoon, lean in, and glare at my best friend. “Wait, what did you say? Ian offered to get ordained. As in, you’ve talked to him more about the wedding than me?”

She snorts. “Calm down. You know as well as I do Wyatt opened his big mouth to his friend. I swear, my fiancé is more of the bride than I am.”

We both hysterically laugh. Because it’s oh-so true.

Just then the front door opens and a stampede of feet comes racing into the house. Nora tenses, most likely nervous to see how Jake’s first day back with the Rockets went, not sure if her son will go to practice when Wyatt isn’t there, but this is progress.

Mason and Jake come barreling into the kitchen, all smiles and excited chatter. I'm relieved to see Jake in good spirits. The poor kid has barely wanted to leave the house since his asshole biological father kidnapped and hurt him.

“Hi, Mommy.” Jake runs over to Nora and hugs her tight, the gross scent of hockey gloves filling the air around us. “Hi, Auntie Cat.”

“Mrs. Clanton, Jake did so good in practice today,” Mason says as he comes into the room as well.

I bust out laughing. “Mason, she isn’t Mrs. Clanton yet.”

His face turns into a frown, brows knitting together. “But Wyatt said—”

“Don’t listen to anything that comes out of my fiancé’s mouth. Also, you can call me Nora.”

Wyatt saunters in a minute later, then leans in and gives Nora a kiss. “He did good. Stayed on the ice the whole time but wanted me in the locker room as he got out of his gear.”

Nora’s expression softens. “It’s still too soon isn’t it?”

Wyatt’s face pales. Unfortunately, Jake got taken on Wyatt’s watch and the poor guy still blames himself. Part of me feels he deserves it. But I also know Nora hadn’t fully told Wyatt the whole story, so he hadn’t known not to let Jake go with his father.

“He’ll get there. And the kids all have his back. They even try cheering him up.” Wyatt turns to look at me. “Leo went to pick up Stella from dance class. He should be here any minute.”

I nod.

“How’s it going? He treatin’ you well?” Wyatt’s expression is serious, his mouth firm, eyes studious, as if trying to read me for some tell. There’s absolutely no hint of his normal jokester self.

Holy shit.

He’s being protective of me.

“Leo’s fine. You guys have been gone most of the week anyway.” Time for a little guilt trip though. “So, is the concern that you pretty much kicked me off your couch?”

He groans, rubbing the back of his neck. “Nooo. I just want to make sure that stoic asshole isn’t being . . . well, an asshole.”

The two little boys start laughing. I guess Mason is used to Wyatt calling his father an asshole. Though, it’s said in a loving way. After all, Leo and Wyatt are friends. And Leo isn’t the most comfortable socially.

“This is how you all talk about me when I'm not around.” The deep, rumbling voice cuts over our chatter.

Arms crossed over his broad chest, Leo fills the doorway with his tall, muscular frame. He pins us all with a stern glare, those cool blue eyes freezing me in place.

I drink in the sight of him in the fitted gray joggers that hug his perfect ass and strong thighs. A snug black Henley stretches across his chiseled torso. My mouth goes dry, and I have to force myself to look away before I start drooling.

Stella pushes past him, her hair in a tight bun as she rolls her eyes. “With your attitude, Dad, of course they do. I mean, Mason and I had to push you to be friends with Wyatt. And him and Ian are your only friends.”

My lips press into a tight line as I fight not to laugh. His daughter is ballsy. Reminds me of myself.

But Wyatt has no decorum and gives a full-out belly laugh that fills the room. “What she said, Sparkles.”

I can’t contain myself any longer, joining Wyatt in laughing. “Sparkles?”

Leo’s groan sounds more like a warning growl, and for some reason the sound vibrates through me, igniting heat in my lower belly and my thighs clench.

I sit up straight.

What the hell?

My body never reacts like that. Not to any man. Sure, Leo’s sexy as fuck. I’ve noticed—how could I not? He’s even played a part in a fantasy or two of mine. But instant arousal from a fucking growl. Never happens.

This is not good.

Nothing can happen between us. Not that I want anything too. He’s not my type . . . that stoic nature. The silent type is overrated. May be fun at first, like he’s a mystery. But a lifetime of that. Not for me.

And with how uptight he seems to be in general, he’s probably like that in bed too. Missionary and boring.

Ugh.

The last thing that needs to happen is us having sex, then it getting awkward and he’s left without someone to care for his kids. Or having to rely on his bitch of a mother to help out again. That woman is something else. Still bothers me she called me a girl.

Thank my lucky fucking stars Leo didn’t drive me straight back to Nora’s after I mouthed right back off to his mother. I even think he might’ve smirked as it happened. His mouth did twitch a bit.

I just couldn’t help it. All of my life people have gone after me for either my ethnicity, attitude, or height. I learned early on, especially against the racist motherfuckers, that I need to speak up and fight back. Turning the other cheek doesn’t work and isn’t me.

While I have a good heart—no, a great heart—I’ve also got a smart mouth and am a little mean. Abuela is the same and so is my own mother.

It’s an Alonso trait.

Stella grabs a Capri Sun from the fridge, then closes the door. “I threw glitter on Dad because he yelled at me. He had practice right after.”

Okay, this girl really is like a mini version of myself. I look at Leo, unable to hide my amusement. “So, is that your nickname now?”

“No.” His response is curt, his jaw clenched.

“Yeah it is.” Wyatt pins him with a look.

“I said no.”

“You call me Virgin, so I’m calling you Sparkles.” Wyatt's tone is light, but there's a hint of steel beneath it.

Jake looks between the three of us, his young face scrunched in confusion. “What’s a virgin?”

I choke on my saliva, coughing and spluttering. Oh, this is going to be interesting. It’s not the first time Wyatt has said something that led to Jake asking questions about stuff he shouldn’t know about yet. He really needs to remember his audience.

Leo pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just a stupid nickname I call Wyatt because his middle name is Virgil.”

Jake just shrugs, apparently satisfied with the explanation. “Mr. Hartman, can I have a banana?”

Leo nods, probably grateful the subject has been dropped and that neither of his kids push the topic, especially his daughter, who has a knack for reading the room and pushing topics that seem to make her father uncomfortable.

Wyatt raises a brow at his friend. “Dude, you gonna stand there like a grouch all day?”

Stella snorts. “He’s probably just hoping you leave soon.”

Okay, I’m the nanny, not the disciplinarian, especially when Leo is home. But that comment definitely needs to be addressed, not because she’s teasing her father, which I’ve come to find as normal. But because it probably makes Nora and Wyatt feel bad, as if they aren’t welcome.

“Stella, go to your room. Now.” Leo’s tone is low and harsh.

His daughter just shrugs and heads out, not phased in the slightest. I’ve noticed that too. She’s angry at him for something. But what?

Stella is tough, keeping what’s bothering her locked up. Something I can relate to. But she needs someone to talk to, so I’ll have to let her know I’m here if she needs me.

Leo shakes his head as he walks to the Keurig. My eyes track him, dipping down to his ass. Those gray joggers emphasize just how delicious his backside is and my thighs clench once again.

And damn if I don’t have a thing for broad muscular backs.

I swallow hard as I pretty much eye fuck him, heat creeping up my neck.

A second later, sharp pain explodes in my shin. “Ow!”

My gaze swings to my best friend. The bitch just kicked me. Hard. Nora’s pinning me with a glare. That mother look, the warning one that’s telling me to knock it off.

I glance up and Wyatt’s head is tilted as he looks at me. But it’s more quizzical, probably from my sudden outburst.

“Sorry, I clipped my little toe on the chair leg. Little legs and all.”

He laughs. “Then stop swinging them, short stack.”

As the conversation carries on around me, my gaze flicks back to Leo. He leans against the counter, quietly sipping his coffee, not contributing.

My chest tightens. He seems . . . lonely. I may be the nanny, a temporary addition, but right now, Leo appears to be the real outsider here. The odd man out in his own home.