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“Why not?”
She points to my fists, which are clenched tightly on the desk. And she doesn’t really have to say anything else.
I force them to loosen, shaking them out. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. I just want to make sure he knows not to mess with her.”
“Stanton and I are fully capable of putting the fear of God into him. Not that he really needs it—Tom is a nice guy.”
I scowl at her. “I want to watch the kids.”
“I don’t—”
Luckily, Stanton has my back. “I think Jake should watch the kids, Soph. If he and Chelsea are going to be strictly friends, he’s gonna have to deal with her dating. If he thinks he’s up for it, I think we should let him have at it.”
And he smirks at her. The smirk gets her every time.
“O-kay.” She looks at me hard. “But don’t be an asshole, Jake.”
I look right back at her. “Who, me?”
• • •
That night, I knock on Chelsea’s front door. It’s locked—and she finally removed the key from under the mat. The door opens, and it feels like déjà vu—like the first time I saw her in this doorway. And just like that time, the breath is knocked out of me.
Her dress is dark green, simple and understated. Utterly stunning. Her long, delicate arms peek out from tiny cap sleeves, a shiny belt shows off her trim waist, and her legs—Jesus—they look fucking endless beneath the short, slightly flaring skirt.
Chelsea’s eyes go round with surprise and I’m guessing Sofia didn’t give her the heads-up about the babysitting switch.
“Hi.”
“Jake—hi. What are you—”
“Something came up with Stanton and Sofia . . .” Which would be me. “So . . . I’m going to watch the kids—if that’s okay with you.”
She recovers from her shock and opens the door wider. “Of course it’s okay. Come on in.”
The kids are in the den. “Hey, guys.”
“Cool—you’re watching us?” Rory exclaims. “You owe me a Halo rematch.”
Chelsea says she has to fill Ronan’s bottles and heads to the kitchen. After greeting the rest of the rug rats, I follow her. She’s at the counter, staring harder than necessary as she fills the bottle in her hands. Silently, I move to stand beside her. Just inches away.
Close enough to touch her.
“You look beautiful.”
She glances at me quickly, smiling self-consciously. “Oh . . . thank you.” She tightens the cap on the bottle, places it on the counter, and turns to face me. “This is weird, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not.”
“It’s totally weird, Jake. You know what I look like naked—”
Do I ever. The image is seared into my brain. My favorite memory.
“—and now you’re here watching the kids while I go out on a date with another man. That’s, like, the definition of weirdness.”
I chuckle. “It doesn’t have to be. We’re adults. We’re friends. This is what . . . friends do.”
She looks up into my eyes, her cheeks flushed, her expression so much more than friendly.
The dog goes nuts barking at a knock from the front door. With another quick smile, Chelsea goes to answer it. I make my way back out to the den just as Chelsea leads Tom Caldwell in, introducing him to the kids, his white teeth gleaming like shiny pearls as he smiles at each one of them.
Then, under his breath, I hear him whisper to Chelsea, “You look ravishing.”
Who says that? Who the hell uses the word ravishing?
Douchebags—that’s who.
“I just have to grab my bag and then we’ll go.” She blows a kiss at the kids. “Be good, guys. I’ll be home in a little while.” Then she leaves the room.
And I make my move. “Caldwell.”
“Becker.” He grins, holding out his hand. “I’m surprised to see you here.”
I grip his hand hard when I shake it. “You shouldn’t be. I’m here a lot. I’m watching the kids for Chelsea.”
“That’s nice of you.”
Yep—that’s me. Fucking nice.
I guide him toward the front door, needing a moment alone. In the foyer, my voice drops low and menacing. “I just want to make a few things clear. If you treat Chelsea with anything less than perfect respect . . . if you ever think about doing something that will in any way hurt these kids . . . when I’m finished with you, there won’t be enough left to bury.”
My stare is unwavering.
He leans back. “Are you threatening me, Jake?”
“I thought that was pretty fucking obvious.”
Then he chuckles, smacking my back like we’re old friends. “Message received. You have nothing to worry about with me.”
Chelsea comes down the stairs and Caldwell opens the front door for her. He salutes me as he walks out. “Have fun babysitting, Becker.”
I stand there for a few moments after they leave, glaring at the closed door. Rory comes up next to me, looking in the same direction.
“He seems like a douchebag.”
“You’re an excellent judge of character, you know that, kid?”
Rory nods. And I tap his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go play Halo. I feel like annihilating something.”
• • •
It’s about eleven when Chelsea comes home. Blessedly alone. She walks through the front door and into the den—where we’re waiting for her.
All of us.
She kicks off her shoes. “Wow, hey—you guys are still up.”