Page 13 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Thirteen

Murphy

If you’re going to lie,

make it the best story ever told.

Eight Years Earlier …

Did I fuck another man’s wife? I hoped not.

I wasn’t a one-night-stand novice, but having sex with someone who was paying money to rent my place felt different. Alice felt different.

She was spontaneous and fun. Flirty and confident.

But mostly, she was an enigma. Sometimes I wanted to figure her out, but other times I just wanted to revel in the wonder and curiosity she provoked.

There was a certain level of satisfaction that came from not knowing everything about her, like staring at presents under the Christmas tree and having no clue what was inside them .

Why the diamond ring?

Why was she in Minneapolis for two weeks by herself with no obvious purpose?

Wine in the morning.

Steak as a late-night snack.

Offering to have sex with a man she just met.

My brain was shit. I had deadlines and no concentration. Sleep distracted me because I knew she was just below me, and I couldn’t stop wondering if she was awake, too, thinking about me.

The next morning, I stared at her through my window while the cursor on my computer blinked like a virtual tap on my shoulder.

Hello? Remember me? Your job?

The problem with Alice, and there were many, was the inexplicable feeling of familiarity I felt around her. More than déjà vu. More than instant attraction.

She sipped her coffee and curled her blond hair behind her ear, and then, out of the blue, but also with disturbingly accurate intention, she looked straight at me.

I hurled my body away from the window so quickly, the chair tipped over.

“Shit,” I grumbled, rubbing the back of my head before wrestling with the overturned chair to find my feet again. Why was I acting like a twelve-year-old with a crush?

Just as my heart rate returned to normal, she knocked on my door, sending it into a frenzy again. I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Get it together,” I said before stepping out of my office to open the door.

“Nice haircut.” She winked.

My dick stirred unnecessarily. It was confused.

We (my dick and I) weren’t used to girls winking at us.

Flirty smiles, lip biting, blushing … sure.

But a wink felt like a bold move. Only confident people winked.

We (my dick and I) wondered if Alice was confident that the three of us would have sex again.

“Thanks.” I dragged a hand through my hair.

“What are you doing today?” She sipped her coffee while keeping her eyes trained on me.

“Working. Why?”

“So not riding your bike?”

“Uh …”

“I assume the bike hanging in the garage is yours.”

I nodded.

“Mind if I borrow it?”

“I … uh … yeah.” I nodded again like a bobblehead doll. “I’ll have to lower the seat for you.”

“Is that too much trouble?”

“Nope. Just give me a minute.”

“No hurry. I’m going to make a smoothie and get dressed. Have you had breakfast?”

“I have.”

“Cool. Just let me know when it’s ready.”

Like a child playing hide and seek, I closed the door and counted to one hundred to give her time to go inside before I headed to the garage to lower the bike seat and check the tires. Then I knocked on her door twice and stepped inside.

“It’s ready,” I called.

“Oh, that was fast,” she hollered.

I slipped off my shoes and poked my head around the other side of the galley kitchen. Alice was brushing her teeth. She spat and dabbed her mouth with the towel.

“I thought it might be a good idea to get it ready now so I can focus on work the rest of the day. ”

She frowned, shutting off the bathroom light. “I’m a distraction. I’m sorry.”

“No. Don’t apologize. I’m happy to do it.”

Alice stepped into the bedroom and returned a few seconds later with a pair of socks. “Well, thank you.” She sat at the dining room table to put them on.

“What is your job? Something with wood, I’m guessing, since you don’t keep your car in the garage, just some interesting tools and lots of wood.”

“I like woodturning. My dad taught me. But I have a day job as a freelance technical writer.”

“What does that entail?” She glanced up and squinted while pulling on her socks.

“Technical writing or woodturning?”

Alice chuckled. “Both.”

“I write support documents for technical and complex information like instruction manuals. As for the woodturning, that’s just cutting and shaping wood using a lathe and different tools. A lathe is a machine that spins the wood so the shapes I create are symmetrical.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. You’re interesting.”

I pinned back my shoulders, chest out because I enjoyed being interesting in her eyes.

Alice curled her hair behind her ears then rested her hands on her legs. “We had sex.”

I tried to control my grin while rubbing the back of my neck. “Yeah.”

She bit her bottom lip for a second. “It was fun. Thanks.”

My shit-eating grin took on a life of its own because this woman never disappointed. “Happy to do it,” I said.

Her cheeks pinked. “I checked the listing, and it wasn’t under the amenities, so I may have overstepped. ”

“You think I should add it under amenities?”

Alice stood. “Nah. I like to feel special.” She sauntered to the back door, but I didn’t move because I just wanted to watch her. Alice Yates was the epitome of special.

Her gait was smooth, as if she were floating. Mesmerizing in every way.

“Coming?” she asked, eyeing me while squatting to put on her tennis shoes.

I nodded. “Was it just a one-afternoon stand, or is kissing allowed, like an amenity, of course?”

She grinned, keeping her head bowed while tying her shoes.

“I’m letting you borrow my bike. I’ll let you borrow my lips too. It’s just something to consider.”

“Would that complicate things?” she asked, standing straight.

I twisted my lips. “Not on my end. I’m not needy or an addict. I’ve fostered dogs. When it’s time for them to go, I’m good.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Are you comparing me to a dog?”

“No. Well, it depends. How do you feel about dogs?”

Alice brought a finger to her lips. “I don’t want to say. Palmer might hear us.” She opened the door and led the way to the garage.

“I don’t want to be predictable and ask what you do for a living, but?—”

“Good,” she opened the garage door. “Because I don’t do anything.”

“Independently wealthy?”

She turned after I stepped into the garage. “Filthy rich. Old money, of course. In fact, I think my great-great grandmother was a queen. Never worked a day in my life.”

“Geesh.” I scratched the back of my head. “I wish I’d known that. We would have done it in the bed instead of nailing your royal ass to the desk.”

Alice snorted, covering her mouth, eyes wide.

“So, Princess Alice, since you don’t have a job, do you have any talents I should know about?” I plucked my helmet from the hook and tightened the strap.

She lifted a shoulder. “Oh, you know … nothing much. I’m good at synchronized or artistic swimming. I stole a turtle when I was eight. And in high school, I played Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream .”

I raised an eyebrow at her as she tipped her chin up, grin brimming with confidence. Was she toying with me? “Are we playing two truths and a lie?” I asked, fitting the helmet on her head, then checking the strap and removing it to tighten it a bit more.

“Do two of my talents sound like lies?”

I laughed. “Maybe. Although, I’m not sure stealing turtles is considered a talent. Did you get caught?”

“No. That’s why it’s a talent.” She tipped her chin up for me to fasten the helmet.

I latched it, then patted the top twice. “I’ve never seen or read A Midsummer Night’s Dream , so I don’t know if Hermia is a good part.”

“Yes.” She headed into the alley where I had the bike next to my car, and she lifted her leg over the bar.

“Hermia was a courageous woman in love with Lysander, but her father wanted her to marry Demetrius. She basically had to fight the patriarchy, then deal with the man of her dreams being given a love potion that made him fall in love with her friend. It was such a beautiful mess.”

“I’m not a fan of Shakespeare.”

“Well, you’re just saying that because you never met the guy, and you probably skipped all Shakespeare’s stories in favor of google search summaries.”

She pegged me correctly, but I wasn’t going down that easily.

“No one who has attended school in the twenty-first century has read anything but summaries of Shakespeare, or Dickens for that matter. It’s basically the entire purpose of the internet.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Need me to adjust the seat?” I held the bike while she sat on it, feet pressed to the pedals.

“Nope. Feels pretty good.” She slid off the seat and slipped on her sunglasses.

“Cool. Well, enjoy your ride.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed my shirt and pulled me to her while wearing a grin.

“Ouch,” I said when she tried to kiss me because the helmet’s sun visor hit my forehead.

“Oh, sorry.” She snorted.

I rubbed my forehead.

She giggled. “I was going to kiss you.”

“Yeah, I caught that.”

Alice unlatched her helmet and hung it from the handlebar. Then she lifted onto her toes and grabbed the back of my neck so she could kiss my forehead where the visor hit it. But I didn’t need my boo-boo kissed; I needed to taste the inside of her mouth, so I did just that.

“Hi,” I whispered over her lips, then kissed her. And before I knew it, the bike fell on its side as I pulled her to my body.

She kissed me back with just as much fervor. Everything about Alice was unexpected and exciting. And I felt about her the way she felt about wine for breakfast: when in Rome …

“In …” She broke the kiss and panted while I kissed down her neck. “Inside.”

There was no need to ask me twice. I carried her into the garage and pushed the button for the door to close.

She released her arms and legs from me, sliding to her feet, and turned toward the door to the backyard.

I kissed her neck and snaked my hand down the front of her shorts, pressing my chest to her back.

Her breath caught, then she moaned, “Oh god, Murphy,” pressing her hands to the door.

I peeled her leggings and underwear down her legs, removing one of her shoes to free that leg. My patience vanished, hands just as eager to touch her as they were to unfasten my jeans. Gripping her beautiful ass, I spread her open and thrust inside of her.

“Murphy,” she chanted my name, arching her back and grinding into me while her fingernails scraped along the door.

It was sexy, spontaneous, and a little unhinged. I liked Alice’s unreal life just as much as my hands liked the feel of her breasts and taut nipples as I shoved her sports bra up her chest to release them.

When it was over, I hugged her back to my chest to keep her upright as her knees wobbled. “My god that was good,” I said between labored breaths.

“So good …” she mumbled with a long exhale .

I tucked myself back into my underwear before helping her get her leggings back on.

“For the record,” she said, turning toward me and adjusting her sports bra to cover her breasts again, “I meant inside the house.”

I glanced up, zipping my jeans. “Oh, no shit? Dang. Sorry, I got that wrong.”

“Are you really?” She narrowed her eyes.

I smirked. Some misunderstandings felt like fate.

“Well, you’ve ruined our status. Now what?” she asked, messing with her hair.

“What do you mean?” I untied her shoe and handed it to her.

She shoved her foot into it. “It’s no longer a one-afternoon stand. It’s a two-afternoons stand. And I’m not sure that’s a thing, but maybe we can make it a thing just while I’m here.”

I nodded slowly, twisting my lips to the side while doing some quick thinking. “If you can have wine with breakfast, we can have an afternoon delight.”

Laughter bubbled from her chest. “Isn’t that a song?”

“I believe so.”

She briefly glanced to the side before studying me as if I would say I was just kidding. But I wasn’t.

“You want me to be your regular afternoon delight?”

I chuckled, ducking my head to kiss her lips, then along her jaw to her ear. “No. I want to be your afternoon delight.”

She giggled, but I wasn’t sure if it was what I said or if her neck was ticklish.

“No mornings or evenings. Correct?”

“Correct,” I said without really thinking about it, but I smiled before trapping her ear between my teeth .

“No pining. No touching. No flirting.” She playfully shoved me. “No biting my ear outside of the sex window.”

“The sex window? Are you making rules, Alice?”

“Yes. Rules keep expectations in check. It’s sex. Fun. Unattached. You can’t fall in love with me. And I won’t fall in love with you. Just. Sex.”

I opened the garage door, set my bike upright, and checked to make sure the gears were okay. “No-strings-attached sex. You’re basically describing every man’s dream. Are you still going for a ride, or have you had enough between your legs for one day?”

She rolled her lips together to hide her grin, and we stared at each other for a few minutes. Who were we kidding? The chemistry was undeniable. Every look was flirtatious. I wasn’t going to fall in love with her, but I loved that she was staying in my rental.

“How does one get into synchronized swimming?” I asked, instead of suggesting we have sex again, which was exactly what I wanted to do.

Alice opened the back garage door and headed toward the deck. “Well, I don’t know how everyone gets into it, but my friend begged me to take lessons with her, so that’s how I got into it.”

“I bet you can hold your breath for a long time.”

“I bet you’re right.” She disappeared into the house.

A few minutes later, she returned with a bottle of water as I pulled a few weeds near the fence.

“Will you feel inadequate if I still go for that bike ride?”

I laughed, shaking my head while brushing the dirt from my hands.

“I don’t know what to say. You’ve got me fumbling my words all over the damn place.

” And she did. Women rarely intimidated me because there was a push and pull.

Emotions and egos at stake. No one liked being rejected or dumped, but Alice was immune to all of that.

She acted as if she had nothing to lose, and I tried to feel the same way, but it felt foreign to me.

“Don’t worry. You still have a five-star review coming your way,” she said, sauntering toward the garage, once again proving my point.