Page 15 of Loving Roman (The Summer Twins #3)

–roman–

I settle the kids with their afternoon snack before they get started on homework.

I love spending this time catching up on each of their days.

It’s a rowdy, energetic time, but I wouldn’t change a thing.

I still feel like I’m catching up on what I missed after being away for a long overdue break.

Being the ‘Domestic God’ that I am, I baked brownies while they were at school after I changed and washed all the bedding and towels.

I follow a strict routine to ensure I mostly stay on top of things around here.

I also tidied up for Marcus’s visit with our new social worker this afternoon—sometimes they can be pretty tough to impress.

We’ve had the same social worker for the past few years, but Macy needed to move interstate to care for her sick grandmother.

We got along well, and she understood the place couldn’t always be pristine with six almost-teenage kids in the house.

She was satisfied with things so long as the house didn’t look like a hovel, the kids were doing well in school, and were happy.

I pride myself on ensuring the kids in my care feel as though they’re part of a ‘real’ family unit in a ‘real’ family home—I know I’m doing my job right because they often fight like siblings. Just as they are now.

“Okay, okay, Pete, settle down. Ivy gets the message. You two will have to take this up outside at the hoop if you can’t come to an agreement.

” Any disputes are often sorted out over shooting hoops.

The person with the most hoops wins, of course.

Generally, stepping outside to run around and bounce a ball in the fresh air solves a multitude of problems with these kids.

If that doesn’t work, extra chores usually stop them in their tracks.

Just as they settle down, pouting at each other, a knock sounds at the front door.

I give the kids a meaningful look before stepping out of the kitchen to let Marcus and the new social worker in.

I warned them this morning that Marcus was bringing Ms. Reed for a visit this afternoon.

They all sit up straight and start behaving as though butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, which I know is false.

Satisfied they’ll be on their best behavior, I stride down the hall, wiping my hands on my jeans.

I take a deep breath, put on a welcoming smile, and swing the door open.

As the door clears the opening, my eyes catch on Marcus … and … Alice !

My heart picks up speed as though I’ve just come back from my morning run.

What is she doing here? How did she find me?

I do a double take, rubbing my eyes to ensure I’m not seeing things. I mean, the woman’s been constantly on my mind since returning home. When I look back at the woman standing at my front door, my heart kicks against my sternum and excitement floods through my system.

Alice.

The Alice I never thought I’d see again.

The Alice I just spent my days and nights with while on vacation.

The Alice who allowed me to defile her repeatedly .

My eyes graze the length of her body, pausing on the curve of her breasts, the slight dip of her waist, and the flare of her generous hips. I’m pretty sure that after less than a week, I know her body better than I know my own.

I take a breath as I remember how the few days we spent together were barely enough to experience everything I wanted to with Alice.

Intelligent conversation about things that matter, sharing vacation experiences together, and exploring each other’s bodies with hands, tongues, and lips.

Our compatibility in and out of the bedroom was incredible, and I was certain I left my heart at the inn as we said goodbye—but here she is.

It’s like the planets have aligned just for me, delivering my perfect woman right to my door.

I had come to terms with the idea that I would never find a woman who was perfect for me in my mid-forties, so finding Alice was surprising.

Marcus clears his throat, drawing my attention to him.

Reluctantly, I pull my gaze away from the woman I thought I’d never see again—because let’s face it, I doubt she would have turned up at the inn in one year—but hoped against hope I would.

With eyebrows drawn tight and frown lines creasing his forehead, Marcus doesn’t appear to be happy with me.

And why should he be? I’ve been standing in the doorway, mute, ruminating in my head instead of offering a proper greeting to my guests.

“Hey, Marcus. Great to see you again.” We shake hands.

“Hello, Roman.” He gestures to the woman I know intimately. “This is Ms. Reed, our newly assigned social worker. Ms. Reed, this is Roman Armstrong, the carer for this particular home.”

Turning with a wide smile to greet Alice, she widens her eyes, drawing her mouth tight as she shakes her head slightly, tilting it toward Marcus.

My smile drops at the message she’s sending me.

Clearing my throat and schooling my features, I hold out my hand to greet her in a professional manner. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Reed.”

I never got her surname during the time we spent together as part of our agreement.

The familiar, relaxed person I met on vacation is gone.

Today, her back is as stiff as a board, her nose high in the air, and even though she’s much shorter than I am, it almost feels as though she’s looking down on me—it’s like she’s erased our time together from her memory.

Studying her closely, I notice a flush making its way up her neck. Good, she’s equally affected by our unexpected meeting as I am. She slides her small, soft hand into mine, and the same sparks I experienced on vacation race up my arm and straight to my dick.

“Hello, Mr. Armstrong,” she responds in a clipped tone. Her eyes, which have been darting around the space, finally settle on me, and I try to telegraph that I’m as surprised as she is.

She discreetly nods, letting me know she got my message, and I step out of the doorway. “Sorry, where are my manners? Please come in.”

Marcus brushes my arm as he steps inside, and Alice deliberately gives me a wide berth to avoid all physical contact as she follows him; her footfalls as clipped as her tone.

Her cornflower-colored eyes take in the space—cataloging everything in the span of a few moments before she forces a smile my way.

I understand she’s surprised our paths have crossed, but I’m getting a vibe from her I don’t like.

Marcus keeps walking toward the kitchen, and I take the opportunity to have a quiet word with Alice.

I want to step into her, smell her familiar vanilla scent, feel her heat, touch her soft skin; but I don’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she already seems. I lower my voice to keep our conversation private. “I sense you’re not happy to see me, Tesoro. ”

Finally, she looks at me, and her features soften.

“I … I’m just surprised. That’s all.” I want to lean in and steal a kiss, have her in my arms again, and be free to touch her like I did on vacation.

“This is my fourth day on the job. A job I can’t afford to lose.

If … if my superiors find out that you and I are …

” She snaps her gaze away from mine. “ Familiar . I … I don’t know how they’ll respond.

” She swallows hard, her posture screaming at me to keep a professional distance between us.

My chest squeezes, and I suck in a sharp breath. Pushing my hand roughly through my short hair, I work through various scenarios that allow me to keep her.

Her eyes follow the path of my hand. “You’ve cut your hair,” she says, reaching up to touch the shorter strands almost absent-mindedly.

Who the fuck cares about my haircut?

I need to know how she feels about me. “Are you at least somewhat happy our paths have crossed again?” I’m desperate to know whether the way I feel is one-sided.

Does she feel our affinity too, or am I delusional?

Her shoulders drop. “Of course I am. I enjoyed our time together. I’m worried about keeping my job and making a good impression.” She takes a small step forward and rests her hand on my pec. I cover it with my own, feeling her warmth seeping through my shirt.

I dip my nose into the crook of her neck, soaking up her vanilla scent again.

“Surely they can’t tell you who you’re allowed to date?

” I lock my eyes with hers. “Because I can’t let this opportunity”—I wave my hand between us—“to continue what we started on vacation slip through my fingers. It was too good not to see where this could lead.” I implore her with my eyes to keep an open mind.

Not to shut this down without proper consideration. I know the connection we share is rare.

“Roman, can you tell—” Sammy comes to a screeching halt when she notices I’m not alone. Alice snatches her hand away from my body, and I instantly miss her touch. I take a step back to put a socially acceptable amount of space between us.

Working to wrangle every ounce of inner calm, I ask, “What is it, Sammy?” She’s my youngest and possibly most damaged of all the kids in my care. I’m lucky she didn’t walk in a few moments before when I was invading Alice’s personal space.

She looks between Alice and me, and I realize I probably should introduce her. “Sammy, this is Alice. Our new social worker.”

Sammy waves shyly, ducking her head, before responding, “Hello, Alice.”

“Hello, Sammy.” Alice gives me a sideways look as she bends forward, hands resting on her knees, to meet Sammy at her level. “Is everything okay?”

Sammy looks up to me. “Uh, yeah. Blake said it was his turn to choose the game tonight, but it’s my turn.”