Page 37 of Heaven Help Me

His face contorts into a grimace. “Damn, V, that’s just cruel.”

My victorious smile feels like the old me.

Deuce rolls his eyes and barks at me to be ready in thirty minutes before he closes the door and leaves me to daydream some more. This time I’m picturing him holding a little baby that looks a lot like him, green eyes and dark hair. It’s a stupid daydream because babies aren’t meant for people like me or Deuce.

Right on time, Deuce collects me from the storage room and carries my exploding binder for me, along with the takeout bags we pick up from Divine Dragon before heading for home. I keep telling him I can help, but he won’t let me, so I walk unencumbered down the sidewalk while he struggles. He carries on about a particularly difficult customer while we drive home. It’s the kind of chatter that doesn’t require my commentary, the kind that’s meant to fill silence.

I watch him with narrowed eyes as we set up the table for dinner with his friends. He’s chatting incessantly, which isn’t like him. He’s also always where I’m not. When I put down napkins, he shifts to the other side of the table to straighten a chair that doesn’t need straightening. When I get a lighter out of the junk drawer in the kitchen to light the candles on the table, he shifts out of my way, putting the island between us.

What the hell is he doing? He’s acting weird. Shifty. Acting like he’s guilty of something and now I have to figure out what.

Mary London bursts into the house with Rhett and a tall teenager in tow. She’s all hugs and kisses and smiles, despite looking tired with her hair in a messy bun on top of her head.

“Landry!” She hugs me in the kitchen where I’m pouring water in crystal glasses, careful not to squish the little bundle of pink strapped to her chest. “That dress is amazing on you!”

I look down at it, realizing I’ve started to get used to all these florals. I wouldn’t say I like them, but they don’t startle me any longer when I see myself in the mirror.

“Thanks.”

She hands me a serving spoon. “Deuce said to give this to you and ask for a slotted spoon instead.”

I look over her shoulder at Deuce who is busy entertaining his guests. “Something’s up with that guy.”

“I’ll say!” Mary London gushes. “He can barely focus. He’s constantly staring at you. That boy is smitten!”

I’m already shaking my head. That can’t be right. If anything, Deuce has put some physical distance between us since the bathroom incident. We talk and interact like friends, but anytime I get close, he gets skittish. In fact, I’ll prove it.

I take two water glasses and head for the dining table, passing through where Rhett and Deuce are chatting. I purposely brush too close to Deuce. He jumps back like I held my knife instead of water glasses. Placing the glasses on the table, I take a moment with my back to him to try to figure out what’s going on.

Is he…is he embarrassed about having a boner when I was naked??

The idea makes me positively gleeful. A new idea forms in my head, a way to tease Deuce that’s just too delicious to deny. I spin on my kitten heel and prance back into the kitchen, slowing only briefly to trail my fingertip across Deuce’s chest as I walk by. His muscles jump in reaction, confirming my theory.

Oh, he thinks a little physical space is going to stop him from wanting me?

I don’t fucking think so.

The door opens again and Silas and Betsy waltz in with little Harlow Jean in tow. She makes a beeline for me, arms in the air. I pick her up and hold her in midair, stupefied as to what she wants me to do. Her arms and legs start to kick and I have to pull her into my body to keep from dropping her. She wraps her arms around my neck and presses a wet kiss to my cheek before going limp and lying on me.

“Ahh, she likes you,” Betsy says, rubbing her belly. “Thank God. Maybe I can have half a second of peace to eat dinner tonight.”

I open my mouth to reject the idea that I’ll be taking care of this little human in any capacity, but Betsy’s already left the kitchen to join the guys. I look down at Harlow’s mop of dark blonde curls tucked into my neck and start to sweat. She’s pretty warm. Does she have a fever or are all kids like little heat rocks?

Deuce calls me into the dining room, so I head that way, hoping I’m holding Harlow properly. She doesn’t make a sound, so I guess she approves. I sit down with her in my arms and Deuce loads up my plate since my hands are currently unavailable. While the others eat, I formulate a plan. It’s not until halfway through dinner that Harlow lifts her head suddenly and grins at me, clearly awake now and happy to be on my lap.

Betsy comes around the table and swings her out of my grasp with a grateful whisper. “Thank you. You have no idea how nice that was to eat without her climbing on me.”

I smile at her like it wasn’t that big of a deal and wave goodbye to Harlow, who waves back with a giggle. Honestly, she’s pretty cute. I have to pull my dress away from my body and fan myself though before I can dig into the warm noodles.

Now that I’m not on kid duty, I put my plan into action. Slipping my foot out of the heel, I stretch it out under the table and make contact with Deuce’s ankle. His fork clinks to his plate, but he doesn’t look my way. I drag my toes up his leg, over his slacks, and up his knee. He tries to pull his thigh away but ends up bumping the table instead. I freeze. Water glasses slosh and he tries out a smile when his friends look his way.

“Sorry about that.”

It takes everything I have to keep a straight face. Then I trail my foot up higher on his thigh. His hand darts under the table and he grabs my foot in a death grip. I smile over at him, and when he glances my way, his eyes are shooting darts.

Goddamn, this is fun to see him rattled.

When we can’t eat anything more, we push away from the table, and collect our plates. I slip my shoe back on and stack my plate on top of Deuce’s.