I find myself smiling down at him as he settles into his feeding. Once he realizes I’m not going to steal away his bacon, his suckling slows to a steady pace. His eyes remain locked on me though, like he’s keeping a close watch on me, just to be sure. How is it possible this little guy has already wormed his way into my heart?
I hear the stairs squeak and glance up to find Mack at the bottom step. He’s watching me, the softest grin playing on his own lips. “He doesn’t mess around when it comes to food,” he says.
“I’ve noticed. He’s watching me like a hawk,” I reply, gazing down at the sweet little boy.
Mack watches us for a few minutes before slipping into the kitchen. I see him stir the pot on the stove and place the rolls in the preheated oven. He pulls two bowls and two glasses out of the cabinet, filling each glass with lemonade. I notice the bottle is already about halfway empty, so I move Oliver to my shoulder, just the way Mack did. He squawks, but settles in for the burp. When I get a small one out of him, I return the bottle to his mouth to continue the meal.
By the time the biscuits are cooked, the bottle is finished, and Oliver is passed out against my chest. Mack rushes upstairs, taking them two at a time, and comes back down with the bassinet. He places it along the far wall, away from the windows, and I take that as my cue to move him. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind holding him for a little longer, but I can see Mack at the stove dishing up dinner, and my stomach is growling, considering I haven’t eaten much today. Nerves and the unknown, plus travel, doesn’t exactly make it an easy day on the belly.
Before I’m able to join him in the kitchen, Mack brings food to the living room. He sets a bowl and glass of lemonade down beside the chair, and when he returns with the second, he places it on the coffee table. “Go ahead and eat,” he says, indicating the food he set beside the rocker recliner.
We’re both silent as we dive in. There are a few things that cross my mind, but I’m not really sure how to ask them. I mean, isn’t it a little awkward to ask your ex about his love life? Not that I want the details or anything—hell no—but if I’m going to be here with him for the next several weeks, shouldn’t I know what to expect?
God, this is going to be uncomfortable…
“So, I have a question,” I start, keeping my eyes on the contents of my bowl.
“Shoot.”
“Well, I’ve gathered you’re probably not married, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked for my help with Oliver. I guess I’m wondering, and not because I’m just curious, I mean, it’s more of I’m going to be staying here and wanting to know what to expect…”
Deep breath. Yeah, this is hard.
“What do you want to know, Lean?”
My eyes automatically seek him out as he uses the old nickname. “I guess I’m just wanting to know if there’ll be a girlfriend who’s also here with us? Or girlfriends, I guess.” Then another thought hits me. “Hell, maybe just friends with bennies, since, well…”
“Stop.”
“I don’t want details,” I spit out quickly. God, this is not going well.
“Lena.” His voice breaks through the noise in my head. When he’s sure he has my attention, he continues, “No girlfriend. Not one, not four. No one will be coming in and out of this house but us. Oh, and probably Fish because that fucker doesn’t understand boundaries. I appreciate what you’re asking, and why.”
“It’s not because I’m jealous,” I state, wishing I could recall the words I just spit out. They only make me sound desperate and, well, jealous.
The corner of his mouth tilts upward. “I know. I get it. But I can assure you, I’m not interested in entertaining right now. I have a lot to focus on with racing and now, Oliver.”
I nod my head, afraid to open my mouth again for fear more word-vomit will be spilling from my lips. But Mack doesn’t seem too fazed by my question, which does make me feel a little better. I’m not stupid enough to believe Mack has been a monk since we split. Hell, the baby sleeping across the room is proof he’s not. In actuality, I’ve not been one either. Not only have I dated in the last three years, but one was serious.
Very serious.
I clear my throat. “Sorry to ask, but I just thought I should know what to expect, you know?”
“Totally get it. Except Fish and sometimes Ben, my crew chief, I don’t have any visitors. I do have a security system I’ll show you how to use. Both of those guys know the code, but while you’re here, I’ll make sure they don’t just walk in and make themselves at home like usual.”
“I don’t want them to have to change anything just because I’m here,” I argue, not wanting to put him or his team out in any way.
Mack sits up straighter, pins me with a look and says, “No, I insist. The last thing I want is either of those assholes to see something they shouldn’t.” He glances down, his face tight. “I’d hate to have to kill my best friends.”
I chuckle at his comment, though when his eyes meet mine, there’s not a single hint of humor. Mack isn’t joking. No, he probably wouldn’t actually kill someone, especially his friends, but the meaning there is clear. He doesn’t want them to see something they shouldn’t. Namely, me. I shouldn’t feel all warm and fuzzy from his comment, but I do. I’m no one’s territory, especially Mack’s, but the idea he’d lose his mind if his friends saw me in
