Page 52 of Fall Over You

My instinct is to launch into a speech about sharp knives and machetes and keeping Ellie safe from all harm, but I need to trust Becca. She’s good with Ellie, and questioning all this stuff makes it seem like I don’t trust her. “‘Kay. Meet you here around six for the handoff?”

“Sounds good.”

TWENTY

BECCA

Ellie’s hand is in mine as we use a flashlight to navigate to the cottage, T-Bone trotting by my side. We haven’t seen Tyler in a couple hours, and it’s almost Ellie’s bedtime. I want to make sure she has a chance to say goodnight, and give Tyler the opportunity to put her to bed if he wants.

While we ate the dinner that he made, he confessed he could count the number of times he didn’t put her to bed on one hand. Three years of this child’s life, and he was there for almost every single time she fell asleep.

And all these years with little to no help. It makes my chest ache to think about it.

“Our pumpkin princess looks so beautiful in the moonlight!”

I look over at the stack of pumpkins we made, covered in an old dress of mine with yarn hair glued on top. “She is real pretty, isn’t she?”

“I can’t wait for Daddy to see her.”

“What do you think we should name her?”

Ellie launches into a long list of potential names for our pumpkin princess, but I’m already distracted. Through the cottage’s window, I can see Tyler, his toned, slender back covered in a sheen of sweat. He’s smoothing something over the wall, muscles bunching with each movement. His ballcap is turned backwards and his pants hang so low that I can see the suggestion of an equally muscle-clad butt.

Was this man an asshole just last night? Yep.

Do I care right now? Nope.

Last night, his comments stung, clinging to my skin like a jellyfish at Myrtle. Now, those comments could deflect off me like a quarter machine bouncy ball.

He made my favorite muffins. He made dinner. He’s working on this house for me. The man’s hanging drywall for pete’s sake. And he’s not wearing a shirt to do it.

If he were so inclined, I’d let him spend the night in my bed.

For once in my life, though, I realize that doing so right now might be a terrible idea.

Past Becca would do it anyway, make things messy just for the thrill of it. I thrived on chaos.

But with this little girl next to me in the mix, I want to tread cautiously. We’ve already opened Pandora’s box by doing this roommate situation. If things aren’t going to work out, they need to go back home sooner rather than later, before Ellie gets attached to me, to this life on the farm.

Is this what people mean when they talk about growing up? My first concern isn’t sex. It’s making sure this little girl’s heart is protected.

“Okay, big step up!” Ellie and I climb the cottage stairs and I knock before we pass through the front door. “Hello?”

“In here,” Tyler calls. I already know where he is, but I don’t want to lead with hey, I was already staring at your incredible bod and thinking I want to put my mouth all over it. He has a couple smears of spackle on his skin, a streak down his abs, a layer of it on one thumb.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, shug.” I love how he talks to Ellie, the raspy voice that always has a smile behind it. He empties his hands on the ladder next to him and crouches down to let her run into his arms. He scoops her up and gobbles her cheeks until she giggles and shrieks. I let them carry on for a minute until he turns his attention to me.

“Looks good,” I say. “You made a lot of progress.”

“Trying to earn my keep,” he says, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.

“Well, you can quit for the day whenever you want.”

He gazes at the newly erected wall with a critical eye. “Still got a few things to finish up. Don’t want to leave it half done.” He turns to Ellie. “Is it alright if Miss Becca puts you to bed? You can show her your favorite book.”

“Oh, I’d love that,” I say, trying to be as enthusiastic as possible.