The Taming of the Bachelor (16 page)

Paige glanced at the Bavarian wall clock and was shocked to see that it was already almost eight, nearly the kids’ bathtime. “It’s time for bath and bed. We’ll finish the show tomorrow, Addy.”

Addison slumped in her chair. “But you promised me!”

“Tomorrow,” Paige said firmly, reaching for the dinner plates and stacking them together. “Because tonight we have stories, and we’re on the last chapter of A Little Princess and you want to find out how it ends, remember?”

Addison immediately perked up. “Okay. But tomorrow I can watch the rest of my show?”

“Yes.” She was reaching for the last plate when Dillon took it from her, their fingers briefly brushing.

“I’ve got these,” he said. “You go take care of them.”

“What?” Paige asked, blinking at him as her fingers curled into a fist. Her skin tingled from where their hands had touched. She tingled.

He lifted the stack of plates and carried them to the sink. “I’ll do the dishes, and you can do whatever you need to do...give the kids their bath, put them to bed. Don’t worry about me. I’ll finish up here and then head on out.”

She didn’t know what was sexier...the fit of his old faded Levis, or the fact that he’d just offered to do the dishes. “You’re going to do the dishes and then just leave?”

“Yes. Unless you want me to stay.”

Just like that her stomach flip-flopped, the blood surging in her veins.

His gaze met hers and he smiled at her, and whatever was left of her serenity was gone. The man was far too hot, and far too dangerous to her peace of mind.

Addison grabbed at Paige’s hand and tugged on it. “Let’s go, Mommy. Read me the story.”

Paige glanced from her daughter to Dillon, who was now leaning against the counter, hands in his front pockets, shoulders taut, stretching the thin knit fabric so that it hugged his torso and the hard muscles of his chest and arms.

He looked good in ivory, the light cream color contrasted with his black hair and straight slash of eyebrows. His jaw was now shadowed with a day’s growth of beard and he looked ridiculously sexy for her kitchen. Which had been until now, very much a mom kitchen.

Suddenly she was loath to send him away, although nothing good would come from having him stay.

“We did this before,” she said.

“We’re just talking dishes, babe.”

And yet from his husky inflection and the flare of heat in his gold eyes, she wasn’t at all sure what they were talking about.

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Thirty at the most,” she said. “If you’re here, you’re here. If you’re not...you’re not. Either way, thank you for doing the dishes. This mom appreciates you giving her a break.” She smiled and steered Addison out, telling herself he wouldn’t be there when she came back down, and yet a little part of her hoped he would be.

Dillon watched her disappear with Tyler and Addison, and exhaled as they rounded the corner. He slowly ran his hand along his jaw, the bristles of his beard chafing his palm.

He was ignoring his own rules. So dangerous.

His rules were there for a reason. To keep him—and others—from getting hurt.

But there was something about Paige that made him ignore his rules and throw caution to the wind.

Maybe it was because he’d been with a lot of women in the past ten years and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way with a woman. He couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so...connected.

It hadn’t felt like a hookup. It’d felt like more. He didn’t understand why, either. Maybe that’s what made him want to talk to her. To try to understand. So he could move on. Let it go. Let her go.

He
had
to let her go. He was leaving tomorrow.

Another thirty seconds passed and he glanced towards the family room where the TV was flashing pictures but the sound had been muted, and then he thought of Paige upstairs, doing whatever it was to get her kids settled for the night, and then he turned around and confronted the pans on the stove, and the dishes in the sink.

U
pstairs, Paige read the last two chapters to Addison, and then talked with her about the ending—such a good ending—and then kissed her sweet girl goodnight before going to tuck Tyler in.

Usually Tyler gave her a quick hug and that was that, but tonight Tyler wanted to talk, interested in hearing what she thought of TJ’s uncle.

“He seems nice,” she answered, striving to sound casual, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, and lifting his hair up from his brow to check the bruising on his forehead and then around his jaw.

“He’s smart,” Tyler said, pulling away, still lisping through the split and swollen lip. “He’s an engineer. He even started his own company.”

“I know. And he’s going back to his company tomorrow. It’s in Texas.”

“Austin,” Tyler added, lying back in bed, and pulling the covers up higher on his chest. His face looked even more swollen and bruised against the white pillowcase.

She leaned over and gently kissed his forehead, choosing a spot that wasn’t black and blue. “No more fighting, okay?”

“At least not until I know how to fight smart.”

“I don’t think fighting is the answer.”

“Boys fight, Mom. You just have to accept it.”

She arched a brow. This definitely didn’t sound like her Tyler. “Who told you that?”

“Mr. Sheenan.”

“I thought so.” She wagged a finger at him, not impressed. “Mr. Sheenan may know a lot about science and engineering, but he isn’t a parent, and he shouldn’t give you advice on things like fighting. We don’t fight in our family. We turn the other cheek—”

“I did,” Tyler interrupted. “And Sam hit that one, too.”

She held her breath a moment, amazed by Dillon’s influence after just a couple hours. “Fighting doesn’t solve anything,” she said, kissing him one last time before standing. “But using your brain does.”

D
illon didn’t leave.

He was still in the kitchen when she returned, standing virtually in the same spot she’d left him, except the kitchen was now spotless, not a dish remained, and the sink was clean and dry. The counters gleamed, completely clutter free, and even the two dishtowels he had used were now hanging neatly from the towel bar on the kitchen door while coffee brewed.

“Wow,” she said. “That’s impressive.” She meant it, too. The man knew how to clean up. “Your mother must have taught you right.”

“Actually, Dad taught me. He ran a tight ship. We were like two bachelors living together...bachelors that had maybe once been a Marine.” His mouth quirked, his tone wry. “Dad
was
a Marine, which probably explains that.”

Paige took this in, processing it, filing bits away as this was the first truly personal thing he’d ever told her about himself, or his family. She’d heard plenty from McKenna and Taylor, but Dillon never really talked about his family. Dillon almost always deflected attention from himself. “Either way,” she said lightly, “you are a miracle worker. Thank you. You have no idea what a treat it is to get out of dishes for a night.”

“It’s the least I could do. That was the best dinner I’ve had in a very long time.”

She smiled. “Good thing you’re leaving town, or I’d be offering to invite you over for dinner more often.”

“You’re counting on me offering to do dishes each time, aren’t you?”

“Well, wouldn’t you?”

“I would. And while it’s on my mind, I think you should know you’re a pretty awesome mom. Your kids are really lucky to have you.”

“Thank you, but I’ve got pretty great kids. They make it easy. And fun. I do love being their mom. I also love how different they are. Addison is a princess and loves everything pink, purple and sprinkled with Disney. Tyler could care less about playing pirate or cowboy or cop. He’s going to invent the next time machine. And I believe him.”

“I do, too. He’s a very smart boy.”

“It’s hard to keep up with him sometimes.”

“I don’t know that you have to keep up with him. What he needs most from you is love.”

There was something in Dillon’s voice that caught her attention. “How old were you when your mom died?”

“Ten.”

Ten, she silently repeated. He had been just a little boy still when his mom died. He’d grown up surrounded by men, and from the sound of his father, a tough, non-emotional man. “Were you close to her?”

He hesitated. “I don’t really remember. I know I was the baby, so theoretically I should have been closest to her, but she wasn’t well during those last few years, so a lot of it is a blur.”

“I didn’t realize she was ill.”

He rubbed his chin, again hesitating, as if trying to decide how much to share. “She was really depressed,” he said finally. “She spent a lot of time in her room, alone, and before that, I don’t really remember.”

He looked at Paige, shadows in his eyes. “I wish I could, though. I would like to have some good memories of her. Memories of us doing things together, fun things, but it’s mostly just the memory of her, in her room, and Dad telling us to leave her be.”

Paige knew she was treading on dangerous ground but had to ask. “She didn’t get help?”

“I don’t know. My gut says, no.”

“Your dad didn’t insist on it?”

He glanced away, his jaw tightening, grinding, making a small muscle bunch near his ear. “My dad didn’t believe in that sort of thing.”

“But he loved her. Yes?”

He didn’t answer but his tortured expression said plenty. Paige also had a sinking suspicion that she knew how Dillon’s mom died. And if that were the case, it was an unthinkable tragedy. She was the mother of five boys, one still in elementary school. How could she have just left them?

Paige swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump filling her throat. “So it really was you and your dad.”

“Yeah.”

“The others were gone? They’d moved out?”

“No. Cormac would have been going into his junior year at Marietta High when she passed away, and Trey and Troy were high school seniors, close to graduating. Or maybe they had graduated. I do know she wasn’t there at the ceremony. I can’t remember why, but she wasn’t in any of the photos and it’s not something we ever discussed. Once she was gone, she was—” His shoulders lifted, fell, his tone equally flat. “Gone. And our family....moved on.”

He abruptly turned, shoulders taut, and headed to the coffee machine to check the progress of the coffee. The glass carafe was full, the brewing cycle finished. “It’s decaf,” he said. “I found the beans in your freezer. I thought we could maybe sit for a minute. Talk.”

They’d already been talking about some pretty heavy things, but Paige sensed that what he wanted to talk about had nothing to do with his family and everything to do with them. “Talk?” She echoed, hoping to sound appropriately careless.

“Shouldn’t we?”

She forced a smile. “No.”

“It seems awkward, what happened that night. I think it’d help if we discussed it.” He reached into the cupboard and found two mugs. “These okay?”

She nodded, and watched as he filled the cups, trying to figure out the right words to say. “From my point of view, it’d be even more awkward to discuss that night.”

“It got pretty hot and heavy between us,” he said, passing just in front of her as he carried the mugs to the table.

“Not that hot and heavy,” she protested, her skin prickling with awareness. He hadn’t even touched her and yet she could feel his warmth, his energy reaching her, dazzling her senses.

“Can I grab milk?” he asked, heading to the fridge.

She noticed he didn’t wait for her to say okay. He just went to the refrigerator and opened the door and grabbed a carton as if he belonged here, in her house and kitchen.

Maybe that’s because in a crazy way she didn’t fully understand, he did.

He did belong here. He was the man this house needed. Maybe even the man she needed.

The thought made her heart turn over. She sat down, reached for her coffee, blowing on it before taking a sip. The coffee was hot and strong, but good. Not bitter, not weak, just kind of perfectly delicious.

Like kissing him.

And being around him.

Her eyes suddenly burned and she took another sip of coffee to hide the wash of emotion. She had to stop this. She was losing perspective, maybe even losing control.