Tempting Rowan (Trace + Olivia #3) (14 page)

The door to his townhouse
was opening again and I turned to see him running down the steps with the drooling little monster in his arms. Normally, I went gaga over a baby, but seeing Trent’s offspring from some whore was making me so angry I couldn’t see straight.

“Stay away from me!” I seethed, ready to punch him in the nose if he took one step closer.

“Row, I don’t know why you’re freaking out. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Dean. I forgot I was supposed to watch him.”

The baby—which
was really more a toddler—blew spit bubbles at me and waved. I hated to admit it, but he was pretty cute.

“You should’ve told me you had a kid!” I exclaimed, point
ing at the child in his arms. “I deserved to know!”

Trent’s brows furrowed in puzzlement. “You think Dean is my kid?”

I gave him a ‘duh’ look, and crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not dumb, Trenton.”

“No, not dumb,” he laughed, “but jumping to conclusions can get you in trouble. Dean isn’t my kid.”

“He’s not?” I hated the fact that those words made me breathe easier.

“No,” Trent chuckled. “He’s my nephew.”

“Nephew…?” Oh. I’m a colossal idiot and just made a fool of myself.

“Yeah, this is Dean,” he pointed to the baby, outfitted in a red plaid jumper, “Trace’s son.”

I blushed profusely, embarrassed by my overreaction.

“Oh…I’m sorry…I thought…”

“I know what you thought,” he laughed, clearly amused by my humiliation. “Anyway, when I invited you to dinner, I’d forgotten I told Trace I’d babysit so he and Olivia could have a night out. I hope you don’t mind…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his head.

Dean started making a buzzing noise with his lips.

“No, I don’t mind. Can I…Can I hold him?” I reached my arms out. My demeanor had completely changed once I knew the child wasn’t his.

Trent quickly deposited the baby in my arms. “Maybe I can cook now. This little
gremlin,” he smacked Dean’s butt, “keeps trying to break Bartholomew out of his cage.”

I laughed. “The ferret?”

“Yep,” Trent nodded, heading back inside, assuming I’d follow—which of course I did.

The townhouse
was really pretty, with shiny wood floors and light blue walls. It was airy and welcoming. There was a formal living room to my right, but it was empty. I followed Trent towards the back of the house, past a set of stairs, to where it opened up to a kitchen, dining room, and family room. The furniture was dark and manly, but everything was surprisingly neat and clean. There was nothing lingering out in the open that shouldn’t be there. I didn’t know why I expected a mess.

“So…where’s Bartholomew?” I asked. At this point, a part of me still believed he’d made up the pet ferret thing. He
pointed to a cage in the corner, which was obscured by the large entertainment center. “I keep him in there when I’m down here, and he has a cage in my room.”

“He gets lonely?” I laughed.

“
I
get lonely,” he said with a straight face. “You wouldn’t believe what a good snuggling partner a ferret is.”

“You’re a strange guy,” I continued to laugh as Dean squirmed in my arms. I finally was forced to put him down before I dropped him. He immediately toddled over to Bartholomew’s cage and tried to undo the latch. Trent hadn’t been lying, the kid really wanted the ferret out.

“Now that you’re here,” Trent said as he looked through the refrigerator, “you can get Bartholomew out if you want and let Dean pet him.”

“Uh…” I
didn’t know why, but I felt a bit frightened of the furry brown and white creature peering lazily at me from a hammock in its cage.

“Oh, come on, Row
an,” Trent goaded me, as he closed the refrigerator door, setting items on the granite counter, “don’t tell me you’re afraid of him. He won’t bite…if you’re nice.”

I took a deep breath and stepped forward. I moved Dean behind me and opened the cage. The furry creature hopped out of the hammock and hurried to the open door. I grabbed him before he could jump out. He was surprisingly light and his fur was soft. I looked down at his face, and he was actually pretty cute.

“Come on, Dean,” I called to the toddler as I took a seat on the couch. I held Bartholomew in one hand and reached down to help Dean up with the other.

“Mew Mew,” Dean smiled up at me, displaying small white teeth as he pointed at the squirming creature in my hands.

“He can’t say Bartholomew,” Trent called, “just go with it.”

I rolled my eyes and didn’t reply. Did he really think I couldn’t figure out what the kid meant by Mew Mew?

“Soft.” Dean petted Bartholomew with a surprising gentleness. “Kiss.” He lowered his head and kissed the furry critter on top of his small head. Bartholomew seemed used to the attention and didn’t move. He’d stilled in my arms and I thought he might have fallen asleep. When I woke up this morning this was so not how I’d seen my day going. I mean, who expects to cuddle with a ferret? I still felt a bit bad about jumping to the conclusion Dean was Trent’s son without asking questions. They looked so much alike though. Dean had thick dark hair and his smile had Wentworth written all over it. I guessed Trace and Trent had some strong genes. There wasn’t anything about Dean that didn’t look like a Wentworth…except maybe his slightly upturned nose. He was a cute kid with expressive green eyes…he did seem to drool a lot though.

Dean crawled onto my lap and continued to pet Bartholomew with his chubby little hand. “Mew Mew,” he whispered again. Looking up at me, he asked, “Who you?”

Dean seemed to realize for the first time that I was a stranger. He was still burrowed against my chest though, and seemed to have no plans to leave. Unlike most kids, he obviously wasn’t afraid to get cozy with a stranger.

“My name is Row,” I answered him.

“Row?” He repeated, looking up at me with big green eyes.

“That’s right,” I smiled, lightly tickling his stomach and making him giggle.

I looked up and my gaze connected with Trent’s. He was looking at me wistfully, and my heart raced in my chest knowing what he was seeing and probably imagining.

I quickly looked away. “Me, Dean,” Dean pointed at his chest. “You, Row,” he poked my breast.
Definitely a Wentworth.
“Dat, Mew Mew, and he Rent!” He twisted to point enthusiastically at Trent.

Trent chuckled, shaking his head as he covered some kind of fish in a seasoning. “Good job, Dean. Thanks for making the introductions.”

“Welcome,” Dean beamed, turning back to me.

The little boy quieted, and went back to petting Bartholomew. I stretched my legs out on the ottoman, adjusting my hold on both the ferret and the toddler, since my arms felt like they were seconds away from falling asleep.

When I knew Trent was occupied with what he was doing, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was reading something off his phone. A recipe maybe? He kept flicking his head to keep his dark hair out of his eyes. His thumb scrolled the screen on his phone and his tongue stuck slightly out of his mouth as he concentrated. He muttered under his breath and began opening cabinets as he looked for something. He finally located it and added it to a bowl. As he worked he hummed under his breath. I didn’t recognize the song—and wasn’t even sure it really was a song, or just something he was making up as he went along.

He turned on two
of the gas stove eyes and set something across it…it looked like he’d be grilling the fish…at least I thought it was fish.

Feeling like a creeper for spying on him as he cooked, I glanced back down at the warm bundles in my arms. Both the ferret and the toddler were sound asleep. It didn’t look like I’d be moving anytime soon. For once, I was okay with that. I didn’t feel the need to run. I was actually enjoying myself, and I wasn’t even really hanging out with Trent. But I was here, in his house, and I didn’t have an urge to leave. I was…comfortable.

“You okay?” Trent asked as something sizzled on the stove.

“Mhmm,” I hummed, “I’m great.”

Trent turned to look at me over his shoulder, and at his grin, I couldn’t help but smile in response. “Good,” he said, his eyes devouring me the way one would their favorite piece of chocolate.

Goosebumps broke out across my skin as he stared at me. That look…it turned my insides to mush.
It felt good to be desired.

With a wink Trent turned back to what he was doing. I wondered if he was aware of the delicious feelings coursing through my body from a single glance. The boy was good, and he didn’t even have to try. It was quite a talent he had.

I must have dozed off as well, because some time later I was awakened by Trent gently shaking my shoulder. Bartholomew was gone, and I started to panic, but I immediately glimpsed him snoozing in his hammock. Dean was still curled in my arms, his body providing warmth to mine. His tiny lips were pursed in sleep.

“Dinner’s ready,” Trent told me.

I nodded, stifling a yawn.

Trenton picked Dean up off my lap and the little boy came awake with a start. “Rent?” He asked quizzically, looking at Trent with sleepy eyes.

“It’s Uncle Trent,” he assured the toddler, carrying him over to a highchair by the dining table.

“You have a highchair for him?” I tilted my head, taking in the sight of Trent tending to Dean.

“Well,
I
didn’t buy it,” he chuckled. “I watch Dean as much as I can when I’m home. Trace works a lot and Olivia’s home with this goober all the time,” he affectionately kissed Dean’s cheek, making a loud smacking sound with his lips. “Sometimes they need a break, and I’m happy to help. I like kids,” he shrugged. “I even have a pack n’ play for when we have sleepovers,” he winked, ruffling the toddler’s hair, and sauntering into the kitchen.

I sat down at the table in front of a steaming plate of deliciousness. My stomach rumbled as I inhaled the scents of rosemary and garlic. It was official, the man could do anything, he was perfect.

“Do you drink wine?” He asked, looking at me over his shoulder.

“I’m legal if that’s what you’re asking, but no, I’ve never drank
any…” After what I saw at home, how could I want to? I didn’t want to become my mother.

“This is really good with our dinner,” he held a bottle aloft. “Would you like to try some?”

I frowned, prepared to tell him no, but he was already pouring a glass. I didn’t see how one glass could turn me into a raging alcoholic. Besides, if I hated it, I didn’t have to drink it.

Trent set our glasses down and went back to the kitchen, returning with a plate of food for Dean. He took the seat beside the highchair and
fed Dean a spoonful of mashed potatoes. “If I let him feed himself, he throws his food at me,” Trent explained. “I’m really sorry about this,” he tilted his head to Dean, who was making a humming sound as he ate a gob of mashed potatoes. “This wasn’t at all what I had planned for tonight.”

“And what did you have planned?” I ventured to take a bite of the grilled salmon—and holy shit, it was the best thing I had ever tasted.

“Dinner,” he nodded to our plates, “talking…kissing…”

“Always with the kissing,” I laughed—the sound
surprising me. I was laughing, and if I recalled correctly, there had been other times when Trent had made me laugh…a real genuine laugh, not one I had to force. The man had superpowers.

“I like kissing you,” he winked, feeding Dean a piece of roasted chicken.

“Did you have anything else planned?” I questioned as I took a hesitant sip of wine. It was actually pretty good and went well with the fish.

“Nope.” Mischief danced in his eyes when he looked at me.

“Really?” I raised a brow.

He nodded, finally taking a bite of his own food.

Embarrassment flooded my cheeks in an unflattering shade of red, because I had been imagining more. Much more. What was wrong with me?

I should’ve known Trent wouldn’t expect
that
yet, he wasn’t that kind of guy. A part of me was disappointed though. I felt like maybe he was doing this on purpose—dragging it out until he knew I was so desperate with want that I’d jump his bones.

No,
it wouldn’t be like Trent to think that way.

More than likely, he wanted me to be sure that I did actually want this. Right now, though, I didn’t want him to be a gentleman.

There wasn’t anything I could do though. Dean was here, and I couldn’t exactly pull Trent away to have my wicked way with him.

It was okay though.

Clearly, now wasn’t the right time for our relationship to move in that direction. After five years though, I felt like I was about to explode. It would be worth the wait.
Trent
was worth the wait…I just hoped that finally admitting that I did have feelings for him wouldn’t blow up in my face. Who was I kidding? It would. Once all my lies and deceptions were out in the open, he’d hate me. I had to tell him what I’d done. I should open my mouth up and let it all out. But I couldn’t, and I was selfish anyway, wanting to spend more time with him before I didn’t have him at all.