Page 15 of Moonlight & Matrimony
“Got anything Canadian?”
“You think Paige would let me buy a bar and not stock Alexander Keith’s? I’ve got Crown if you want something stronger. We even have poutine on the menu.”
“He’s totally whipped,” Liam interjects and I bark out a laugh, but Cade doesn’t protest the claim.
“Beer’s good, and I’m sure as hell not going to turn down poutine. Is the cheese squeaky?”
Cade shakes his head as he places a coaster down on the bar. “You and your sister are more alike than you think.”
Ivy
“Hey neighbor.” The deep timbre of Luca’s voice interrupts my audiobook as I lose myself in the story, and in the swirling colors on the canvas in front of me.
I pull out one earbud. “Hey there, hubby.”
Luca shakes his head in response. “You’re ridiculous.”
Tiny footsteps sound just before the screen door crashes against the frame. “Mr. Luca!” Rylin exclaims, bouncing on her little feet beside me on the front porch.
“Hey Bug! How’s my favorite neighbor?”
Her eyes go wide. “I’m your favorite?”
“Of course!” he responds enthusiastically. Luca’s usually a pretty stoic guy, but when he talks to my little girl, something changes — he becomes almost joyful. I understand completely — that’s how I feel about Rylin, too, on a much deeper level.
“Mommy, can Mr. Luca play with me and Sage in the backyard?”
“Oh, I’m sure he’s busy, love.”
“Never too busy to hang out with my best girl,” he says, ruffling her curls. I’m dangerously close to throwing myself at him if he keeps this up. Just having him in my orbit is knocking me off my axis.
“Ok. I have to finish this wedding portrait, but you can go on in and grab Sage from her crate, if you don’t mind.”
“Can I see what you’re working on?” he asks. Not waiting for my answer, he steps up behind me, leaning over my shoulder to peek at the live wedding portrait I painted last week. His beard brushes my cheek in a barely there caress that sends a shiver coursing through me.
“I’m just putting the final touches on before it can be delivered to the bride and groom,” I explain, feeling somewhat insecure and more than a little flustered by his closeness.
“This is amazing. You’re really talented.” Heat floods my face at his compliment. The vibration of his voice this close to my ear has me clenching my thighs. I wonder if he’d ever consider a career as an audiobook narrator. I could definitely see myself listening to him read smut while I —
Get it together, Ivy.
“Thank you,” I whisper. His now familiar woodsy scent wraps around me as I continue to apply soft brush strokes to the landscape. As I turn my head to look at him, he reaches out to tug at a stray hair that’s stuck to my lip gloss, his eyes momentarily catching on my mouth. I suck in a sharp breath, willing myself not to pull away. I want this. More than I’m willing to admit.
“Mr. Luca, let’s go!” At the sound of Rylin’s voice, Luca steps away, leaving me wanting.
“Patience, love,” I gently chastise. “Don’t forget your manners.”
“Sorry, mommy.”
“Come on, little one,” Luca says, holding out a hand for my girl. I watch as she pulls him along after her into the house. The goosebumps left behind by the graze of Luca’s fingertips linger long after they’re gone, and I return to my audiobook, imagining a different voice in my ear telling me exactly what he wants to do to me.
Once I’m finally content with the finished product, I venture out to the backyard to find my daughter and my very hot, very off-limits neighbor. I step out onto the back steps, the summer heat hitting my skin, nearly sucking the air from my lungs. Kentucky humidity is not for the weak.
The yard is modest, with lush green grass bordered by a weathered wooden fence and a few small patches of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. A large oak tree stands proudly between our two houses, casting patchy shadows over thelandscape as the sun hangs high in the sky. I inhale the smell of freshly cut grass, mixed with the lingering scent of wildflowers, allowing a rare moment of peace to wash over me. But that peace is quickly shattered by the sound of Rylin’s voice, small but clear, drifting from the other side of the yard.
She’s sitting on the grass, legs crossed as she rubs Sage’s belly. Luca’s crouched beside her, his elbows resting on his knees, his left side facing me, listening intently as Rylin speaks. It’s such a simple act, and yet somehow profound.
“Sometimes my daddy scares her,” she says, with the brutal honesty I’ve come to expect from my 4-year-old. “He’s mean, and he said she’s not good enough to be my mommy.”
