7. Hannah

7

HANNAH

A bolt of pure terror mingled with lust. This was bad. Very, very bad. How could I kiss him like that? How could I not? The man was gorgeous, and the way he smiled turned me inside out. He tasted like coffee and sin. I danced my fingertips along his ribs, feeling the muscles flex and bend beneath my touch. His rock-hard erection throbbed between my thighs.

Arthur abruptly tore his lips from mine. Sapphire blue eyes closed, the ragged rise and fall of his chest matching my own desperate breaths.

I licked my lower lip, tasting him there. Heat flushed onto my cheeks. I reached up to smooth my hair back and found a line of gooey batter near my ear.

“My apologies, Hannah.” The sound of my name startled me. “I’m not usually so forward.” His fingers pressed hard into my skin, almost like he couldn’t bear to let go. Then he pushed away from me, taking a huge step backward. A muscle ticked in his jaw. Once. Twice. He spun on his heel and walked away.

Absolute silence buzzed in my ears. What just happened?

Scott intercepted Arthur in the doorway, the two men almost crashing into each other. Scott’s eyebrows shot straight up. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing,” I heard Arthur say as he ducked his head to the side when Scott pointed at the batter dripping from his face.

Scott swiveled toward me. A narrow-eyed look took in the scene, the state of disaster spread across the kitchen, and me. His gaze locked on me as he flashed a cocky grin. “Nothing, huh? Looks like a whole lot of something to me.”

“We got carried away,” I mumbled as I rushed around the counter, grabbing a towel and twisting it between my hands. Arthur’s shoulders stiffened, the sharp look he gave me over his shoulder like a knife to my fragile heart. “We were making breakfast and things got out of hand.”

“I’d say.” Scott slapped Arthur on the back. “Better go wash that off before it dries.” He moved out of the way and rubbed his hands together. “Any chance some batter made it into the skillet?”

“Oh. Um.” I pivoted and ran back to the stove. “Give me a few minutes.” The bacon was starting to burn, so I flipped it out onto a plate and concentrated on the pancakes. They rose golden and perfect in the pan Arthur had prepared, and I served Scott a tall stack with a smile. “Let me grab the syrup.”

“Probably a good thing you didn’t have it out already,” he said, a knowing look in his eyes as if he was well aware Arthur had kissed the daylights out of me and he didn’t mind. “I’ve tried to clean syrup off before. Not an easy task.”

My grip on the bottle of syrup went slack. What was he insinuating?

Liddy’s voice came from down the hall. “Mama?”

“In the kitchen.” I shouted back before I thought better of it. We were not in our little house anymore. This perfect, classy place wasn’t meant for shouting.

Seconds later, Liddy shoved open the door and raced my way. “I did it. I put my tutu on all by myself.” She twirled, her little hands holding out the tutu skirt I’d painstakingly repaired after an incident on the playground. My daughter spotted Scott and stopped mid-twirl. “Hi.”

“Hi there. That’s a beautiful skirt.” Whatever sexual innuendo about the syrup he’d been implying toward me vanished. He patted the stool beside him. “Hungry?”

“Yep.” Liddy tucked her hands behind her back and rocked side to side. She side-eyed me, silently asking for permission. I nodded once, and she bolted toward Scott, climbing up on the stool with the grace of a ballerina. Once she sat, she propped her elbows on the counter and stared up at him.

“So, Liddy. Do you like your new room?” Scott dragged a second plate closer and scooted one of his pancakes onto it. He drizzled it with syrup, cut it into small bites, and handed Liddy the fork.

My lips parted, though I had no idea if I wanted to thank him or berate him as I flipped pancakes and scrambled eggs. I decided to do neither and handed him the plate of bacon.

Liddy stuffed a bite into her mouth and shoved hair from her face. “It’s beautiful.” She talked around the food, glanced at me, and covered her mouth. “Not ‘posed to talk with food.”

“Sorry.” Scott hopped off his stool and rounded the counter. Before I could ask what he needed, he’d grabbed another plate and two forks from the drawer. “If you need to restock anything, let one of us know.” He tapped a small drawer in a table beneath an antique black phone as he headed back to his seat. “There’s a card in here for purchases.”

Ryland sauntered into the kitchen. He missed a step as he took in the state of the room, but like Scott, he smiled and kept going. “Morning.”

“We missed a food fight between Arthur and Hannah,” Scott said with a straight face. I sucked air and tried to calm the blush threatening.

A laugh burst out of Ryland. “I wondered. Saw Arthur in the hall. Poor bas—” he winced an apologetic look in Liddy’s direction, “man looked like he’d been through the wringer.”

Liddy watched everything with that curious and entirely too smart expression I’d learned meant she understood what was happening around her. She shoved another bite in her mouth. A hair went with it, and she stopped with a scowl. Her fork hit the plate with a clatter, and she used her thumb and forefinger to pull the hair free.

“Sorry, Liddy. I’ll fix your hair.” I brushed my hands off on a towel and patted my pockets. Damn it. I hadn’t thought to bring a brush and hairband into the kitchen.

“May I?” Ryland pulled a hairband from his wrist and twirled it between his fingers.

“You’ll need a brush,” I said at the same time he retrieved a comb from his front pocket.

Liddy licked syrup from her upper lip. “Make it like yours.” She patted the top of her head. “Right here.”

A smile so rich with warmth that it sent a stampede of buffalo through my stomach stretched across his face. Ryland remained where he stood, eyes on mine as he waited for my approval.

“Yes. Go ahead.” No one had ever done Liddy’s hair except for me. It was a small thing, a tiny blip in the thread of life, but it signaled something critical deep inside. Liddy trusted him. Both of them.

I’d almost kissed Ryland yesterday. I did kiss Arthur this morning. What was happening to me? Clearly I possessed zero self-control when around these men. They made me feel things with nothing more than a look. A touch set me on fire. Arthur’s lips gave me thoughts of late nights on silk sheets.

Ryland set the hairband on the counter beside Liddy and used the comb to gently untangle her mop of hair. She slept with a wild abandon that always turned her hair into a rat’s nest. I’d tried everything to no avail.

“Can I eat?” Liddy’s hand inched toward her fork.

“Sure.” Ryland’s practiced efficiency had Liddy’s hair combed through and twisted up in a topknot in record time. Liddy never complained. She kicked her feet and ate bite after bite, chatting with Scott and Ryland like they were her best friends. It warmed my heart and set off warnings at the same time. We were only here for the summer. Neither of us could afford to get attached.

Arthur pushed open the door and strode into the kitchen. He’d cleaned up and changed into a suit and tie. His silver hair was slicked back, blue eyes bright but reserved. He avoided looking at me and joined Scott at the counter.

I handed him a plate and turned away, afraid of what I’d see in his face if I looked too close. Did I do something wrong? I mean, other than kissing him?

“Ryland, you and Scott have office work today, yes?” Arthur’s voice held no inflection, nothing that gave me any clue to his thoughts. Both men made affirmative noises.

“I have a photo shoot scheduled. I’ll be home around six,” Ryland said as he walked past me to the sink. He rinsed his plate and placed it in the dishwasher.

What was up with these men? I’d expected to do everything for them, yet Arthur had helped me cook, and Ryland was washing his own plate. Were they trying to make a good impression? Why? I’d agreed to do this job.

Scott finished his breakfast and stood. “We should have a barbeque tonight. Out by the pool.”

Arthur paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. His eyes slid to me, then away as his jaw hardened.

“Have you and Liddy ever been to a poolside barbecue?” Scott rounded the counter and came to stand beside me.

I finished scrambling the last batch of eggs and scraped them onto a plate. Liddy and I could eat them for lunch. “No.” I meant for the word to come out curtly and cold, but Scott’s proximity stole the breath from my lungs, taking the bite out of my reply.

“You should take advantage of the pool while you’re here.” He added his plate to the dishwasher and turned to face me, putting his back against the counter and crossing his arms. Biceps stretched against his blue polo shirt, the ribbed muscles in his abdomen contracting with every breath. “What’s ours is yours.”

While I was here. There it was again, another reminder of the ticking clock winding down my time in this lavish place.

“He’s right.” Ryland handed Liddy a paper towel and mimed wiping his face. “You’re welcome to check out the pool. The theater. Whatever you want.”

“Except Scott’s underwear drawer. I’d stay far away from that.” Arthur’s face remained still, but a hint of laughter popped in his eyes, creasing them in the corners.

Scott shook his head. “Little ears, man. Don’t be talking about stuff like that.”

Arthur stood and buttoned his suit jacket. “Right. Well, I’m off.”

I elbowed Scott in the gut. “You scared him off. He’s back to being serious British.”

“He’s always that way. I call him sourpuss behind his back.”

“And in front of it,” Arthur replied while walking away. “Better sour than rejected.”

I arched a brow at Scott. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Scott rubbed a palm over the side of his face. “I’ll let him explain it someday.” He checked his watch. “I need to go.”

“Don’t forget what we said.” Ryland retreated to the hallway.

Liddy and I followed them across the foyer and to the front door. “I won’t. Thank you.”

“I’ll cook tonight. You and Liddy can enjoy yourselves.” Scott slid a pair of sunglasses over his eyes and reached for the front door. He paused, his face inches from mine. Heat stretched between us, a moment so delicious and profound that I nearly leaned in and kissed him goodbye.

“Liddy and I don’t have swimsuits.”

“Buy yourselves some.” Ryland shouldered his camera bag. “Remember, the card in the side drawer. It’s for whatever you need. You might want to get Liddy some floaties and pool toys too.”

They left me standing there, my jaw unhinged, hope blooming bright and robust. I gaped at the closed door.

“Mama?” Liddy pulled on my hand. “We go swimming?”

“Yes.” Did I dare take their card and go shopping? Liddy and I truly needed bathing suits. And Liddy definitely should have floaties. She knew how to swim but was still unsure in the water. “Come on. Let’s get dressed.”

“You’re sticky.” Liddy pointed at my face, reminding me of the batter still in my hair and down my shirt. I laughed, and for the first time in years, my heart didn’t ache at all.

“Yes, I’m sticky.” A memory of Arthur’s face this morning right before he kissed me shot through my mind. The way he smiled felt like a rare treasure. His deep, booming laugh rattled the barriers I’d erected after my ex abandoned me and Liddy.

These men were not like him. Not at all. They were generous as well as kind. They gave without expectation, unlike my ex, who always made his generosity a production meant to be praised and rewarded. When it came to responsibility, he left us high and dry, taking his fake generosity with him and leaving us with nothing.

I squeezed Liddy’s hand. “On second thought, I’m going to clean the kitchen while I’m already sticky. Then we’ll go shopping.”

I had a job to do here and I refused to fail. Arthur, Scott, and Ryland might not expect much of me, but I knew my duties thanks to the list Deena left me. Some of them were simple, tedious tasks that would keep me busy, but also give my mind time to roam.

And I knew exactly where my thoughts would go to—my growing feelings for my three employers.