Page 22 of Shielding His Heart
I cut her off with a wave of my hand. “Don’t be silly. I think it looks great. And you’re right. Neither one of us had much of a green thumb in the past. So our yard suffered, and houseplants cowered in our presence.”
She shifts from foot to foot and chews on her lip. And now all I can think of is sucking it into my mouth and biting down. “I guess I just like being outside, you know? Being cooped up room was driving me crazy.”
I shift in the seat, trying to form coherent thoughts. “Oh, I understand. I’m glad you found something to keep busy with. How was your weekend otherwise?”
She nods and clears her throat, taking off her gardening gloves. “It was good. I rested a lot and watched a lot of TV. But otherwise, I didn’t do too much. What about you? How was work?”
She takes a seat in the open lounge chair next to me, and I can’t take my eyes off her bare legs. She’s reclining, so she doesn’t notice, thank God. “It was boring as hell. We only had two calls the whole shift.”
She cracks open one eye, and I tear my gaze away from her legs before she catches me ogling. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Just makes for a very long, boring shift, that’s all.”
“What’s a normal shift for you look like?” she asks.
Grateful for the distraction, I detail the long hours, monotonous paperwork, and occasional trauma I encounter on a typical shift. She listens with interest, her eyes on me, and it jars me to realize I have her full attention. Before, her thoughts would have wandered off, or her phone would have gone off with some crisis or another. I feel a little guilty to realize this version of my wife is different—and I like it.
Thankfully when I push to my feet a short while later, my erection is gone. “I’m gonna get a shower and make dinner for when the girls come home. Give me a shout if you need anything.”
She nods and gets to her feet to clean up the empty pots. “I’ll take one after you.”
Oh shit. Now my imagination really goes wild. I nod awkwardly and leave before I do something stupid like tackle her to the ground and rip those little shorts off her legs to bury my face between her thighs.
* * *
“We should get a pool!” Gemma exclaims after she takes a long drink of milk.
I lift a brow at her. “A pool, huh?”
“Yeah,” she explains. “Elizabeth and Maria from school both have one. It’s going to be summer soon. We should get a pool.”
“You don’t even know how to swim,” Paisley says with a tone of wry superiority that only an older sibling.
It doesn’t seem to faze Gemma, who is used to her sister’s attitude. “Then it will be the best time to learn. Mom can teach me.”
“She could if you weren’t scared to swim,” Paisley says and rolls her eyes.
“So? Maybe if we get a pool, I won’t be scared.” Gemma juts out her lower lip.
“Yeah, right,” Paisley retorts.
“All right, girls,” I interject before it can turn into a screaming match. “I don’t know about buying a pool, but I’ll make sure we go swimming a lot this summer.”
A glance at Tana, who has been quiet. I don’t glean much from her expression other than curiosity. Like an observer at the zoo who’s never encountered exotic creatures before. Will I ever get used to this? Will it ever get easier? I don’t know.
I wanna dig my fingers in my face and shotgun about twenty beers. I keep waffling between protecting the girls and risking everything on this woman. Frankly, I’m getting sick of my own fucking thoughts.
I shove up from the table and get the girls’ empty dishes. “Bath time. Paisley, you’re first this time. No arguing.”
She flips her hair at her sister and prances off. Gemma is naturally unfazed and studies me with a calculating eye. “Can I have more ice cream?” This girl. She will never fail to make me smile no matter what is going on.
I ruffle her hair. “Good try, squirt, but you’ve had enough for today. Go watch cartoons until your sister’s done in the shower, and then it’s your turn.”
She shrugs her shoulders as though to say at least I tried and goes to the living room, where I hear the tinny sound ofMy Little Ponystarting up. Wordlessly Tana helps me clear the rest of the dishes from the table and pack away the leftovers into Tupperware.
As we move around the kitchen cleaning up dishes and packing away food, all I can think of is her legs in those damn shorts. I’m hyperaware of her movements around me, sensitized to the max at being near her.
“You’re so good with them,” Tana says softly as she carefully stacks glasses in the dishwasher.
