Worth the Fall(38)

“Hi.” That was all she could manage with his hot eyes melting her from across the room. She stared at the man in front of her and wondered for the hundredth time why he was here. He could be anywhere, with anyone.

But there he sat, telling her children stories. Being the hero her son never had. Engaging Annie as Charlie sat perched on his thigh, playing with his big billion-function watch.

The white sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to reveal thick forearms. His jeans were dark and tight around his thighs, and he wore boots she’d never seen before—snakeskin maybe. His other arm was outstretched to keep Gracie from falling off the couch as she stood clipping tiny barrettes into his hair.

Never taking his eyes from hers, he stood, setting Charlie on his feet. “You look beautiful.”

She smoothed her hands over the silk of her short sundress. “Thank you. Your hair looks nice.”

He didn’t laugh, just reached up and pulled out a tiny hair bow, still burning her with his hot gaze. She was already a little breathless when his hand grazed her bare back and he led her out the door.

—

Beautiful didn’t begin to describe her. They’d spent practically the entire week together, but somehow this felt different. He knew it wasn’t a date in her mind, and it shouldn’t be in his. You don’t usually take four kids on a date. But in some ways, most ways, it was more intimate than any date he’d ever been on.

He wanted to touch her, hold her, make love to her. He imagined all the ways he would caress her body as he explored every inch, taking extra time with her smooth, rounded belly. He wanted to strip her clothes off and get inside her so badly he was about to combust. Was dying to grab her and show her he wasn’t a good man. But he couldn’t do that and then walk away. Not to her.

Together they walked, Abby’s hand firmly tucked in his, surrounded by the kids, all in various stages of motion. The girls wore sundresses and sandals, the boys khaki shorts and polos. Gracie’s curls were held back by a glittery headband, and Annie’s braids were as neat and controlled as she was.

“Right this way,” the hostess said.

They followed her across the restaurant balcony to their reserved table. The same balcony where he’d watched Abby dance a week ago. Not even a week. But how many times had he gone out with the same woman? Three times? Four? That didn’t come to more than twelve hours, maybe, and not all of it spent talking.

A group of businessmen tracked her with lusty eyes until Matt shut them down with a glare. Don’t fucking look at her. Don’t even think about her. No doubt they were calling him a lucky bastard. He wished to God it was true.

The six of them ate dinner as they’d eaten every meal, talking and laughing, juggling kids and condiments. Annie wiggled a loose tooth with her tongue. She’d look adorable with her front teeth missing. Not that he would see it. The five-star food suddenly tasted like dirt. He took a drink of iced tea to force it down.

They finished dinner and he and Abby let the kids move to the nearby steps to watch the band set up. A young woman in a flowing skirt, hair falling past her waist, tuned her guitar while a man behind her readied his violin. Matt and Abby sat quietly, sipping their drinks.

Matt took her hand because he couldn’t not touch her. He turned it over in his, played with her fingers, and stroked the pad of his thumb over her soft skin. It always looked so small in his, so delicate. She turned to him and flashed that sweet smile, the one that never failed to make his heart stumble. Men would try to step in and claim her, be a father to the kids. Hold the baby in their arms. The thought made him sick. And furious, and…so fucking sad.

The music started and the kids were eager to dance. He led Abby down the stairs, one hand at her back, the other hand outstretched in case she stumbled. They found chairs nearby and sat to watch the kids. Jack showed off his moves, something like karate set to a spastic beat. Charlie spun until he collapsed in a fit of giggles. The girls twirled in front of the smiling young woman at the microphone.

A few songs later, Gracie ran up, clambering into his lap. She sat facing him, her knobby knees digging into his thighs.

“Hi, ladybug. Having fun?”

She nodded. “I’m dancing. Did you see me? I spinned awound eighteen twenty times.”

“Eighteen twenty, huh? That’s a lot, and I did see you.”

Gracie threw her arms around his neck in a spontaneous hug that painfully melted his heart.

Then she pulled back and took his face in her tiny hands. “I wish you were my daddy. What do you fink?”

Her innocent question came like a punch to the gut. What did he think? That he wanted it more than anything. That if things had been different. If the armor-piercing bullet hadn’t torn a hole through his best friend. If—