Page 10 of Scotch: Unraveled

“In my defense, she never tried to contact me. To tell me she was pregnant or that they’d been born.”

“How could she not tell you?” Judgement gone. Oh yeah, she’s giving me my in if I play this right.

“That, I have no answer for,” I reply, hefting a baby carrier on the desk instead of keeping Macie on the ground next to my feet. She dropped them off and said they were my problem now.”

Frankie unhooks Macie, who stills her crying in Frankie’s arms. “Did your mommy not take care of you?” she asks the babe.

I unhook Mollie and pick her up. She cuddles against my neck. “Yar with me now, little ones. I promise to take care of ya.”

That’s when a sigh resonates from around the room. I look up from my girl to see half of Frankie’s coworkers staring at us.

“Listen, if you need help figuring out a nursery, I’d be glad to help. The babies need a room. They need toys and beds.”

“Thank you, Frankie. Does yar car have a back seat?”

“Yesss,” she says slowly as if she doesn’t trust me.

“Would you want to take me, Mollie and Macie to pick up my new truck?”

She bounces Macie and leans her chin down to kiss the top of her head. “Be here when I get off work at six. I’ll take you to the dealership. We have an extra crib here you can borrow, then Saturday we can drive into the city to find proper beds and whatever else you’ll need. Have you considered a color scheme?”

“Color scheme? You do remember I’m a biker? We don’tconsidercolor schemes.”

“Think about it. We can stop at the home store for paint.”

I’ll think about it tomorrow. The only thing I’ll be thinking about for the rest of the day is how to get her to have dinner with me and getting her out of her panties. If anything can help set my head straight, it’s a night with the beautiful Francesca Cardone.

4.

Frankie

Promptly at six, which I totally didn’t expect, Rory shows up. He smiles. However, it’s not one of his flirty smiles. This one’s genuinely friendly. Before he even asks me a question, he walks over to where the girls are playing on a mat and bends down to pick first Mollie up. He kisses her head.

Even though he still looks so unsure of himself, I can see he’s trying. Next he bends down to lift Macie into his arms, kissing the top of her head, too.

“How’re my little ones today? Did ya miss yar old da?” he asks them and I watch as the girls snuggle down against his chest in the same spot I used to snuggle against when we were together. Whether we were in bed after making love or lying on the sofa watching television, that was always his most comfortable snuggle spot.

Only then does he turn to me. “How’s Macie’s rash?”

“It’s looking much better. You’ll want to give her a good soaking in the tub when you get home, then reapply the ointment. But you’re doing well.”

He pops out a surprising laugh. “Well? I’ll be lucky if the lasses don’t end up in therapy. But I can honestly tell ya I’m trying my best here. Seems their mother forgot to drop off the product care manual and maintenance schedule.”

God, I’m going to have to be careful around this man. With the sincerity shining through his deep, soulful eyes as he shows me a bit of his vulnerability, I have to fight the urge to run my hands through that thick, wavy ginger hair so I can pull his head down to kiss me. We’ve hardly spent any time in the same room, yet he’s bringing back all these old feelings. Feelings I thought I’d long let go of.

“Should we get going?” I ask, plucking Mollie from his arms because I think he needs a little more one-on-one time with Macie.

“Yeah, lead the way.”

I slip the jacket on the baby girl in my arms, then hook her into her car seat, while he takes care of the other. Then he packs up their bag and slings it over his shoulder. He signs the girls out and picks up the carriers.

When I offer to take one, he waves me off. “I got it, but thanks.”

Who is this man? My Rory never saidthanksfor anything other than an amazing orgasm. I always knew he was thankful, but he rarely expressed it, other than with a kiss to the temple. And heneverapologized. For anything. Ever.

We walk out to my car. I bleep the locks. He takes one side while I take the other and we buckle the girls in at the same time. He finishes first, walks around to my side of the vehicle, plucks the keys from my pocket and climbs in the driver’s side, adjusting the seat back before I even have the back door closed. He adjusts the rearview mirror before I take the two steps to smack him on the back of his head for taking my keys. The hardheaded man doesn’t flinch.

Rory smiles an irresistible smile at me instead, the same one that got him into my pants on more than one occasion when we were younger. Only, back then, I couldn’t have taken my eyes off his pearly whites if I tried. Today, I’m older, wiser, and weary of falling for his charms again, so I force myself to look away. The weird thing is, even though his smile is aimed at me, his gaze is directed across the lot behind me, and it doesn’t match his easygoing demeanor. He’s fixated enough to get me to look over my shoulder, but when I do there’s nothing there aside from the bright red dumpster. When I turn back, his eyes are with me again and Mr. Smooth intercepts my wrist, kisses my knuckle, and orders me, “Get in.”

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