A smirk kissed his lips. "Nuh-uh," he refuted and tickled me some more. "We already shook on it. The deal is done, sweetheart."
"Oh my God! Stop!" I said through a fit of obnoxious laughter. "I hate being tickled!"
His smile grew wider by the second. "You hate this?" he questioned, and his fingers continued their assault. "But you're smiling and laughing? I'm so confused by this reaction."
"Nick!" I squealed. "Stop it!"
"Okay … okay … " he finally agreed and removed his maddening fingers from my body while I stayed on my back, breathing heavily and staring up at him with a scowl.
But my scowl didn't faze him; Nick chuckled softly as he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "I'll make the coffee. Naked. While you stay in the bed. Naked. Sound good?"
I couldn't not grin at that proposition. "Sounds perfect."
He winked and walked out of his bedroom, his bare feet pattering across the hardwood floor as he made his way into the kitchen. I heard the faucet a few moments later, and with a contented sigh, stretched out on his bed and closed my eyes.
But before I could drift off into a little catnap, the sound of a phone ringing in the distance startled my eyes open.
"Shit," Nick muttered from the kitchen, and the phone rang three more times before a little click and beep echoed into the hallway. When the words, "This is Nick Raines. Leave a message," loudly filled my ears, I looked toward his nightstand again and saw a relic of a device. One that I honestly thought hadn't existed since Barack Obama had won his first Presidential nomination.
It was damn near 2020, and this man still had an answering machine.
I smiled big at the thought as Nick jogged in and grabbed the phone from the cradle, winked, and jogged back out of the room to continue making coffee.
"Lex?" Nick's voice reverberated from the speakers of the small, black device and echoed against the walls of his bedroom. "Are you there, honey?"
"Hi, Dad," she answered, the soft and sweet lilt of her little voice melting my heart.
"Statistically speaking, it is more logical to keep your phone in your living room," she stated firmly. "The waking hours are two-thirds of the average person's day, but ninety percent of phone calls occur during those hours." The girl had sass. I loved it.
"I know, Lex," Nick said through a chuckle, "but the main reason I have a landline is in case the hospital can't reach me on my cell phone. And generally speaking, that happens when I'm in bed. Hence the need for it to be in my bedroom."
She sighed. "It's loud, Dad. Actually seven times louder than a standard cell phone ring. You would be able to hear it from the living room."
"Fine," he muttered, but I could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll take moving it into the living room under strong consideration. Sound like a plan?"
"Yep," she agreed. "Anyway, I'm calling about the Mathletes," she said, and I couldn't not giggle at the way Nick's daughter managed to get straight to the point and how flawlessly at ease their familiarity with each other seemed to be. "My competition is at six. Are you coming?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Cool." The sound of a female voice yelling, "Lexi! Breakfast!" filled the background, and immediately, she announced into the receiver, "Gotta go, Dad. Bye!"
"Okay. See ya tonight, Lex," Nick said, and the call ended, a final beep sounding on the machine next to me.
Immediately, I felt guilty for listening to their whole conversation. Sure, it wasn't something I'd sought out or done on purpose, but despite the accidental circumstances, I'd still listened to the whole thing without restraint.
A few minutes later, he strode back into his bedroom with two steaming coffee mugs in his hands. He set them on the nightstand and sat on the bed beside me.
"I feel a little bad," I blurted out, and he looked at me curiously. I pointed my index finger toward his answering machine and cradled one of the pillows from his bed to my chest. "I accidentally overheard your conversation with your daughter."
Nick smiled softly. "Why do you feel bad about that?"
"I don't know." I shrugged. "I mean, I just felt like I was forced into eavesdropping or something. And, it was a conversation with your daughter. I guess it just made me feel uncomfortable that I'd overheard the whole thing, like I was invading your privacy. By accident, obviously, but still, I want you to know that I'm not that type of person."
"No apology necessary, Char." He kissed my forehead. "So, don't waste time feeling bad about it. It's not warranted in the least."
"Okay, good," I said on a relieved sigh, and before my mind could forget one very important thing, I added, "Also, I have a supplemental question … "
"Okay … " he responded, stretching the "a" sound out with a curious lilt to his honey-smooth voice.
"So … " I nodded toward his answering machine. "Did you have to order that thing from 1990 or 1991?"
"Smartass." He rolled his eyes and laughed. "I had a feeling you'd have something to say about my answering machine."
"I mean, it is an extremely rare and vintage sight. I'm shocked the Museum of Natural History hasn't contacted you directly to procure it for an exhibit or something."
"Are you done yet?"
"For now, yes. But, later? Probably not." I grinned as I sat up on the bed and rested my back against the headboard. He handed me my mug of coffee, and I took a much-welcomed sip.
But still, I couldn't hide my continuing smile.
He scowled once his gaze took in my expression. "It's not that funny."
"Oh, but it is," I teased. "One of the country's best neurosurgeons utilizes an answering machine from the nineties. Trust me, it's hilarious."
It was hilarious. But the thing I loved the most was the adorable half scowl, half smile that kissed his lips.
Goddamn, he was handsome. I had the urge to wrap myself up in his smile, his laugh, his gorgeous brown eyes, and stay there forever.
It had been years and years since I'd felt such a connection to another human being. My fiancé had been the last man I'd felt that way about, and when I really looked back on the past, on that relationship, I couldn't recall ever feeling this invigorated, entranced, happy by another person's presence.
What was happening to me?
It sounds like you're falling for him, Char …
I shook off the insane thoughts and buried my nose in my coffee. I mean, I'd known this man no more than a blink in time. No way in hell was I already thinking that four-letter word.
That was completely crazy … right?
Me: They just asked a question about prime numbers, and I swear to God, my daughter rolled her eyes. ROLLED HER EYES. Like it was beneath her.
Charlotte: HAHA OMG. From what you've told me, it IS beneath her. She's a math diva.
At the feel of Wes's eyes on me, I locked the screen of my phone and slid it back into my pocket. We'd been here for two hours at this point, and he'd had his own phone out a time or two. But his gaze was decidedly heavy. He didn't look mad or even judgmental-just highly fucking curious.
Given the recipient of my texts, that seemed just as bad.
I didn't need him to pry. I'd barely known Charlotte a week. I didn't need Wes getting a hint of anything and maybe ruffling some feathers with Winnie. She had all the power when it came to Lexi-she'd earned it. And I wasn't willing to fuck with what I had. She hadn't really had to give me any chance after the amount of time I'd left them to their own birthdays, holidays … everydays. But she had for Lexi. I knew that, and I was fucking grateful for it.
A buzzer sounded to indicate the end of the main round of competition, and Lexi's eyes gleamed. Her team was up by five points, and the two questions in the final round were only worth three points apiece. The only way their opponents would win would be to sweep the round, and fuck me if they had a chance.
I mean, they were kids and shit. So, sure, they had a chance.
But they didn't really have a chance.
Not only had my little girl been a dominating force the entire afternoon, but her teammates weren't slouches either.
The first question was a complex diagram of triangles, and after being directed to assess the total number of triangles within it, one of Lexi's teammates was the first to answer and do it correctly. Lexi smiled the smile of a schemer, like she'd purposely withheld from answering to give the other team a slight advantage solely for her entertainment.
She was a cat, and they were just mice to toy with.
I wasn't sure if such ruthlessness made me proud or worried. The only comfort was her otherwise sweet nature, and the idea that healthy competition was an outlet for her. In many ways, she was different from the other kids around her. When it came to math, she wasn't average-she was better than.