Page 19 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Instead of staying late at the office, I find myself taking a left off the highway and heading toward Wes’s house.

When I arrive, the front door is already open, but there are no tiny footsteps.

“Rosie?” I call out, stepping into the kitchen.

“She’s not here,” Wes’s voice calls from out back.

“I came for my emotional support toddler. Where is she?”

“She’s out with Lena. They should be home soon.”

I head outside and find him by the back fence, wiping sweat from his brow while the dog sniffs around his booted feet.

“Therapy can wait,” I say, already pulling off my suit jacket. “What are we working on?”

“Replacing the outer boards. Some are rotting.”

Perfect.

I roll my sleeves up to my elbows and get to work. I need something real. Something I can dig into. I need to sweat, not stew.

Wes doesn’t talk much. Never has. He only speaks when necessary. It’s one of the things I’ve always liked about him. It means I don’t have to fill the silence with explanations or excuses.

Right now, that’s exactly what I need.

∞∞∞

We finish up just as the sun dips low and the air starts to cool.

Both of us settle onto the porch steps with bottles of water instead of beer.

It’s a rare show of maturity. Or maybe just the knowledge that one of us has a toddler who wakes up at sunrise.

The other is now following a woman on her morning run.

I’m halfway through chugging mine when the door flies open and tiny foot-thunder echoes behind me.

There she is.

Rosie barrels straight for me and slams into my back, arms wrapping around me with all the strength her little body can muster.

Laughing, I twist around and lift her onto my lap. “There’s my favorite girl,” I say, bouncing her on my knee.

“None of us can get a look in when you’re here.” Wes grunts. “Hi, Princess.”

“Hi, Dada,” she mumbles, not even looking at him as she buries her face in my neck.

She sniffs, then immediately jerks back, nose wrinkling in betrayal.

“‘You and Dada stinky.”

“Sorry, Princess,” we both say in unison.

Already thoroughly disgusted with the male species, she scurries off my lap and heads for the dog before flopping onto the grass.

“Hey there, Pretty Boy. ”

I look up as Lena steps outside while tying her hair back.

“Hello, Warrior Princess,” I reply, the nickname sticking ever since the day she almost knocked me unconscious with a frying pan.

It was my own fault. She hadn’t been working as Wes’s nanny for long when I strode in and picked Rosie up. She had no idea who I was and thought I was trying to kidnap the kid.

Leaning over, she presses a kiss to Wes’s lips. “You both stink.”

“So we’ve been told,” he says, chuckling. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” she replies, eyes glittering before she grabs a deck chair, drags it onto the grass, and sits facing us. “Why is Julian stressed?” she asks Wes, like I’m not here.

Wes doesn’t even hesitate. “Woman problems.”

The fuck?

“I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” Lena says with a shrug.

I don’t explain at first, mostly because I’m deciding whether diving headfirst into traffic would be more painful than getting grilled by these two.

But I came here for a reason, and if there’s anyone in the world who might make me feel less like I’m spiraling into oblivion over a woman, it’s these two.

“Alright.” I drag a hand down my face. “If I murdered someone, you’d both help me bury the body, right?”

Lena doesn’t even blink. “Would we get to pick the location?”

“I’m thinking bogland,” Wes adds without missing a beat .

“Well, no one’s dead,” I say, kicking my heel against the step, “but I’m in serious trouble.”

Lena leans forward. “What happened?”

Fuck it. These two are in. I could confess to arson, tax fraud, and harboring a fugitive, and Wes would grunt, hand me a shovel, while Lena baked a pie to throw the cops off the scent.

“Said woman is driving me insane,” I finally say out loud.

Lena cocks her head like she didn’t hear me right. “I’m sorry. Back up. This is really about a woman? You?”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Oh, absolutely not. You never even talk about women. Now you’re all flustered and sweaty. It’s adorable.”

I scowl. “Don’t say adorable.”

“It’s okay. Your hormones are safe here.”

“She’s my architect.”

“For the new HQ?” Wes asks.

I nod.

He gives a casual shrug. “Yeah, I know. Nathan told me.”

Of course he did.

“She’s your architect,” Lena pipes up, getting back on topic. “So what? I was the nanny.”

Wes winks at her.

Jesus. I came here to be talked out of this, not to be encouraged.

“I don’t know how to handle her,” I admit, dragging my hand through my hair.

“So,” Wes says slowly, “you met your match and have absolutely no idea what to do about it.”

“Correct. ”

Lena plucks some blades of grass and fidgets with them. “Did you meet at work?”

I glance toward the yard where Rosie’s now lying on her stomach in the grass, giggling while the dog licks her toes.

“We met at a…” I pause. “…picnic club.”

Lena frowns. “What the hell is a picnic club?”

“You remember the picnic club I told you about, baby? The one Nathan mentioned,” Wes says, watching her.

Her mouth falls open. “Oh. Yeah, Julian, you did the picnic wrong.”

“How?”

“You’re supposed to eat and leave everything behind, not get attached to the cutlery.”

Wes chokes on his water.

I laugh. “But the picnic was really good.”

“Have you tried taking her out to dinner?” she asks.

I give her a look. “That’s not a metaphor?”

“No, Julian. A real dinner. With napkins. Try a steak instead of whatever salad you two shared on a blanket.”

“What?”

“Julian,” she says, resting her chin on her hand. “You have two speeds: emotional lockdown or complete obsession. Find a third gear, for the love of God.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple. Call her. Take her out. You’re not some haunted widower. This isn’t Wuthering Heights . You’re not Heathcliff.”

Rosie toddles back over just in time to save me, handing me a half-chewed daisy.

I accept it with a smile. “Thanks, Princess.”

“You stinky,” she reminds me .

“Yeah,” I sigh. “Seems to be the consensus today.”