Page 16 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Sixteen

Alice

Reality is what we make it,

so make it unforgettable.

Eight Years Earlier …

“Stop!” I squealed as Murphy chased me through the living room, around the sofa, up the two stairs to the dining room, and around the table in only his black underwear and white crew socks.

I wore his Vikings T-shirt, and I may have suggested the Packers were a superior team.

“Take it back, or I’m going to peel that shirt off you and lock you out of my place,” he threatened.

We froze on opposite sides of the table in a standoff. He faked in one direction, but I reacted just as quickly as Marvin Gaye sang “How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)” from the turntable.

“This place is mine for another five days,” I said, legs wide, body rigid and alert, ready to bolt in either direction.

Per our agreement, we spent every afternoon having sex. Once the sun set, we were platonic friends who ate dinner together and took leisurely walks around the lake. Then we retired by ten each night in our own beds.

Nothing felt real with Murphy. Reality was overrated.

We were silly and playful one minute, and physically ravenous the next. The sex was in a whole other league.

He liked my cooking.

I enjoyed watching him shape a boring piece of wood into something beautiful.

But mostly, we enjoyed the simplicity of each day.

There was a perfect balance of work (he worked), play (sex), time alone, and deep conversations as friends.

Our mutual love for older music spurred long talks about how times had changed, the shifting of priorities, and the age of the internet and online dating compared to how our parents and grandparents met.

We imagined what the world would be like in thirty years.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said, faking a right around the table, but then he jumped over it, taking the runner and wood bowl in the middle with him.

“Ahh!” I screamed, then giggled as he trapped me in his arms, kissing my neck while I squirmed.

When his lips hovered over mine, I surrendered and waited.

Say it.

“Hi,” he whispered before capturing my lips in a deep kiss. Then he took me prisoner, pinning my back to the top of the table, shoving down the front of his underwear and lifting the ugly Vikings shirt while settling between my legs.

“Yes …” I closed my eyes for a second when he buried himself inside of me. God, it was heaven.

Oldies playing on vinyl.

Chicken in the oven and the aroma of rosemary and thyme in the air.

And the cringy yet laughable realization that we did not shut the blinds. It wasn’t the first time that Rosie didn’t have to pay for porn while she washed dishes. When I turned my head, she gave me a smile that said, “Get it, girl.”

“Best. Renter. Ever.” Murphy sighed, collapsing on top of me after we surpassed our orgasm quota for the day.

“In your review, I will say you exceeded my expectations as a host. Filled all my needs and did so with enthusiasm.”

He laughed. “What will I say about you?”

“Don’t tell me. I want it to be a surprise.”

“A surprise it is.” He stood, pulling his underwear back into place, as I hopped off the table and headed straight into the bathroom.

“Disinfect the table before dinner,” I hollered.

“On it.”

After using the bathroom, I grabbed a shirt from the bedroom along with leggings.

“Found my Packers shirt. I knew I brought it,” I said, handing Murphy his Vikings shirt after he returned the all-purpose cleaner to its spot under the sink.

“You look much better in purple.” He smirked, pulling the shirt over his head.

I laughed. “Put your pants on.”

He looked down. “Earlier you thought it was sexy.”

“Yes. There was something kinda sexy about you in underwear and those socks, but the shirt just ruins it, and I’m not only referring to the pitiful team mascot on the front.”

“Have you seen the movie Risky Business with Tom Cruise? It’s an older movie. And there’s a scene where he lip-syncs to “Old Time Rock and Roll” while dancing in his white socks, underwear, and a shirt.”

“I have not seen that.” I laughed.

“Oh, let me show you. I have that vinyl.” He sauntered into the living room, and a few seconds later, “Old Time Rock and Roll” played. He grabbed the TV remote to use as a microphone. When the song started, he ran and slid in his socks along the wood floor.

I giggled.

He danced and lip-synced, jumping on the sofa, then playing air guitar on the coffee table.

When I bent over in laughter, he tossed the remote aside and bear-hugged me. “See, it’s totally sexy.”

“Oh my gosh,” I said, catching my breath and wrapping my arms around his neck. “I love you.”

Those three words came out so innocently and automatically that I didn’t catch it at first, but then Murphy’s smile faltered just a fraction.

I shook my head a half dozen times. “No. I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I love that you just did that. You have no idea how much I’ve needed that kind of laughter.”

Murphy studied me, rubbing his lips together and nodding. “Yeah. Of course. That’s what I thought you meant.” He released me and took a step backward while clearing his throat. “I’ll put my pants on.”

My cheeks ached from forcing a smile and holding it for so long. When he disappeared into the bedroom, I covered my face and blew out a long breath .

Stupid.

“Everything good?” He returned too quickly, forcing me to make a fast recovery.

“Uh-huh.” I pinned a fake smile on my face.

“Don’t sweat it,” he said, padding into the kitchen where he turned on the oven light for a peek at the chicken. “There are a lot of things I love about you, too, like this amazing dinner you’ve prepared.”

I loved the way he prioritized making me feel at ease. I loved chasing every improbable moment, holding on to it like trying to catch water in my hands. Everything slipped away. An unavoidable law of nature.

“Hypothetically,” he cleared his throat, “if I didn’t believe you have royalty in your bloodline, and therefore had a real job, what would that real job be?” he asked, leaning his backside against the counter while I pulled the tossed salad from the fridge along with a bottle of dressing.

Murphy wanted into my life, my real life. And while I didn’t blame him for it, I also couldn’t allow it.

“Hmm, hypothetically, I’d act in local theater productions.”

“That’s a cool hypothetical job.”

“It is. The pay is shit, but passion is priceless.”

He hummed. “Yes, it is.”

When he gave me a look that I wasn’t emotionally ready to handle, I changed the subject. “Where do you get your wood?”

“Good question. I’m glad you asked. Your fabulous tits give me pretty good wood, but sometimes I get it just from seeing your flirty smile.”

“Shut up.” I laughed.

He uncorked a bottle of wine. “I get wood from trails, the local dump, clean-up from storms, orchards, back roads, demolition sites.”

“I know the other day you said you display some of your work at local galleries, but it’s so good, you could open your own. Have you ever thought about that?” I pulled the chicken from the oven.

“Nah. It’s just a hobby. If I tried to make it a full-time business, I’d start to resent it. Putting pressure on your creative side to be your everything is the quickest way to squash inspiration.”

I tried not to look at Murphy Paddon as the most interesting person I had ever met because it felt like the ultimate betrayal to my past, but every day I liked him more and more.

After dinner, we took our usual stroll around the lake, but this time, Murphy reached for my hand to hold it.

“Nope.” I pulled it away from him, keeping my gaze in front of us at the ducks along the edge of the lake and a turtle chilling on a floating log. “I have no self-control around you. It’s no longer afternoon, so no more delight. ”

“Alice, do you know how much power you just gave me by saying that? Knowing that you can’t control yourself around me is too much. There’s no way I won’t take advantage of that. So this is me apologizing now for what’s to come.”

I nodded toward the group of four young women jogging toward us in the opposite direction.

“Let’s find you a wife, one who can cook, so you won’t spend your life malnourished from eating microwaved quesadillas.

What’s your type? Tall and thin? Beautifully curvy?

Long hair? Short hair? Do you want kids?

A wife who stays home or an equal breadwinner? How many kids do you want? ”

“How many kids do you want?” he asked.

“Oh, that’s easy. I want five. Three boys first, then two girls.”

Murphy shot me a sidelong glance with a huge grin. “I’m not sure what to follow-up with first. That it’s rare to hear anyone want five kids anymore. Or your preference for three boys and two girls and in that order.”

“Do you have siblings?” I asked.

“A sister two years younger.”

“Well, I’m an only child. But my experience with big families is that they are fun. Perhaps chaotic at times, but fun. And older brothers looking out for younger sisters just melts my heart.”

He smirked. “I can speak from experience. There’s a lot of tormenting before the instinct to protect kicks in.”

“But you protect her now, right?”

“I don’t see her often. She just completed her associate degree as a vet tech and moved to Idaho to work for a livestock vet. Our parents aren’t thrilled.”

“Why?”

“Because she only moved there to get away from here.”

“Is she not on good terms with your parents?”

“My dad had bypass surgery last year. He’s fine now. But Ophelia thinks he’s going to have another heart attack and die, and she doesn’t want to be here when it happens. But it’s not like it’s going to prevent it from happening. She can run, but she can’t really hide.”

I swallowed hard. He wasn’t talking about me. Besides, I wasn’t hiding. I was just taking a break from reality.

“I love the name Ophelia. And I bet she meets a rugged cowboy out west.”

Murphy laughed. “Ya think? ”

“I do.”

“Is that what you’re looking for? A rugged cowboy who keeps you barefoot and pregnant on his big ranch?”

I twisted my lips. “Milking cows and goats? Collecting eggs? Baking bread? Sure. That would work.”

“Synchronized swimming in a big pond?”

I giggled. “Exactly.”

“And you’d have plenty of turtles, so there wouldn’t be any need to steal them.”

I grinned, elbowing his arm.

It was all a wonderful dream.