Page 18 of The Homemaker (The Chain of Lakes #1)

Chapter Eighteen

Murphy

Sex is a distraction. It’s okay to get distracted.

Eight Years Earlier …

“Mr. Paddon, are we role-playing this afternoon?” Alice asked, glancing up from her wine and game of solitaire on the dining room table as I stepped into her kitchen wearing a black suit and tie just before lunch. The inviting sweet smell of freshly baked cookies enveloped me.

“Do you like to role-play?” I lifted an eyebrow, possibilities swirling through my dirty mind.

Alice had part of her shoulder-length hair pulled into a messy ponytail, lips twisted into a naughty grin as she counted three more cards and turned them over. “What kind of question is that? You know I’m an amateur actress.”

“A hypothetical actress. ”

Without looking up from her game, she smirked. “Yes, Mr. Paddon. So if you’re not here for role-playing, then who died?”

“My grandfather.”

She jerked her head up. “Jesus, Murphy, I was kidding. Please tell me you are too.”

I adjusted my tie because I hated wearing a suit. “Sadly, I’m not. If it makes you feel better, he died a week before you got here. But my uncle has been in Germany on business, and this was the earliest he could return.”

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe you’re just now mentioning it. We’ve solved every single world problem on our walks, but you didn’t think to share that piece of information? Was he the vinyl record grandfather?” She jabbed her thumb over her shoulder toward the turntable.

“Yeah. And I guess I didn’t want you feeling sorry for me.”

“Well,” she stood and padded her bare feet toward me to wrap her arms around my neck, “I am sorry.”

“Thank you.” I rested my hands on her waist as she released me. “You know what makes funerals more bearable?”

“Wine?”

I chuckled. “A plus-one.”

She crinkled her nose. “A date?”

I nodded.

“No.” She turned and headed back to the dining room table. “A plus-one for a funeral is a terrible idea. Who wants to meet a complete stranger when they’re at their worst? Funerals should be private events. No outsiders.”

“He had a ton of friends. It’s a big funeral. You won’t stand out as an outsider. ”

“Maybe. But I don’t do funerals,” she said, refocusing on her game.

“You make it sound like a pastime. No one ‘does’ funerals. They’re about as much fun as a colonoscopy.”

“Exactly. And you wouldn’t invite me to hold your hand while they stuck a scope up your ass, right?”

“I mean … I might. But that’s not a fair comparison.”

“Murphy, it’s your comparison, not mine.”

She was right. It was a weird and stupid idea.

“Well, then I’ll see you later.”

“Again, I’m sorry for your loss.” She shot me one last glance and frowned.

“Thanks.” I turned toward the door, then stopped. “I mean … you’ve been to a funeral, right?”

She deposited another card in a row.

“Alice?”

“Do you mind if I use your bike again?”

She heard me. Right?

“Of course you can use my bike.”

“Thank you.”

I opened my mouth to say more about the funeral, and just as quickly, I clamped my jaw shut. Part of me felt close, maybe even connected, to Alice. After all, we’d been intimate. She gave me her body. What more could she have given?

A lot.

She, by plan, gave me nothing disguised as everything. And I didn’t know if I could or should ask for more. I had a feeling that what I loved most about her wasn’t real.

After the funeral, burial, and luncheon, I returned home with great intentions of asking Alice a few personal questions that didn’t start with “hypothetically.” However, when I stepped into the backyard, loosening my tie, my desire to dig up her dark secrets died because she was face down on the outdoor sectional, sunning herself in just her undergarments—her bra unhooked to prevent a tan line.

She turned her head toward me. “Hi,” she said, instead of asking me about the funeral.

“Are you wearing sunscreen?”

“Sure.” She closed her eyes and smirked.

“Who put it on your back?” I slowly walked up the patio stairs, unbuttoning the top two buttons of my dress shirt.

“Palmer, of course.”

I chuckled. “Did you go for a bike ride?” I moved her glass of water and sat on the ceramic side table.

“Mm-hm.”

She seemed relaxed, maybe even receptive to answer some questions. But my dick had a different case to make. I glanced around as if I could tell if any neighbors were peering at us from their second-story windows.

“My parents invited me to dinner at their house tonight since we have a lot of family in town.” I ghosted my fingertips up the back of her leg. “Would you like to come with me?” My finger teased along her underwear while I bent forward to kiss her shoulder.

“You can’t touch me like this while talking about your parents.”

I kissed her cheek, and she grinned.

“Maybe we can revisit this conversation in a half hour,” I whispered before kissing her ear, inhaling subtle hints of floral in her hair.

“A half hour?” She peeked open one eye. “Are we trying something new? A half hour seems a little slow for our pace.”

“New indeed.” I kissed her shoulder again.

“Just hear me out. I was thinking we could try a bed. I realize that seems unconventional, and we love things like desks, tables, walls, and the back of the sofa so much better, but I’m in the mood to venture into uncharted territory with you. What do you say?”

“Aren’t you sad about your grandpa?”

“He lived a good life. I’ll miss him. But I’m sad that you’re leaving next week, and I’m going to get so much work done and hate every minute.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m an excellent distraction?”

I kissed her nose. “It’s my way of saying, don’t go.”

She slowly sat up, holding her bra to her chest. “I wish we were real.”

I shook my head. “What does that mean? Is this about the diamond ring? Have I been screwing another man’s wife?”

Alice stood, stepping past me toward the house.

“I’m not married. Never have been.” She opened the door.

“Never will be. But …” With a flirty glance over her shoulder, she let her bra drop to her feet.

“I’ll be in bed. Bring your list of fantasies, and I’ll see what I can do to start checking them off. ” She winked.