Page 2 of Moonlight & Matrimony
He quirks an impressively well manicured brow in my direction. “And you just… what? Left your 4-year-old alone to come over here and yell at me?”
“No,” I snark. “I live next door, and I brought the damn baby monitor with me. See.” I turn my phone, displaying the somewhat blurry monochromatic video of my sleeping child.
“Seems like the noise isn’t really bothering her,” he grunts. There’s a commanding edge to his voice thatwouldhave the ability to melt my panties if he weren’t such an asshole. Oh, who am I kidding? The reaction is involuntary. RIP to my favorite black thong.
Full disclosure, Rylin could sleep through an earthquake, but I’m not above using my 4-year-old to garner sympathy. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be working on the sexy lumberjack, and I’ll have to resort to other tactics… like honesty.
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude. I’ve had a long night. My kid’s dad is kind of a douche and I didn’t get much sleep last night. Can you try to keep it down? Please?” I grit my teeth, the plea tasting like acid on my tongue.
“Yeah. Sure,” he grumbles, taking a step back into the house and closing the door in my face, leaving no room for further discussion.
“What an asshole.”
With a heavy sigh, I turn to stomp down the steps, stumbling back as I nearly crash into Paige coming up the walkway. She’s wearing a pale blue sundress that molds to her curvy body, her baby bump prominent beneath the fabric. Her dark, wild curls are pulled up in a messy bun, and the tempting scent of freshly brewed coffee wafts from the cup in her hand. She eyes me curiously; her gaze darting between me and the house. “Ivy? You okay?”
“Paige? What the hell are you doing here?” My expression must be absolutely feral at this point, because Paige is looking at me like I have three heads.
She holds up the drink carrier in her other hand as if the answer should be obvious. “I was just bringing coffee to my brother.”
“Your… brother?”
Fuck.
Luca
Paige dropped by earlier with some incredibly elaborate cup of coffee and what seemed like a well-rehearsed speech about being nice to her friend Ivy, who happens to be the neighbor with the gorgeous ass and the feisty attitude. There was an unspoken threat behind her words, telling me in no uncertain terms she’dkick my ass if I did anything to hurt her. I nodded my agreement, taking the proffered coffee before she dashed off to her prenatal appointment. My sister is due to give birth to my niece in a few months, and she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her.
After a falling out with my dad and an unpleasant, albeit necessary, confrontation with my mom, I decided to uproot my life and move to Oak Ridge, Kentucky. I’m not sure what led me here, but something about this small town called to me. My relationship with my sister may be strained, but it was the first place that came to mind when I decided to finally get away from my hometown back in Canada. We’ve been working towards reconciliation for the better part of six months, and I’d like to think we’ve made progress. Despite my role in our estrangement, I love my sister.
Oak Ridge felt like home from the very first moment I arrived here last fall. Although my visit was brief, it left a lasting impression. There’s something about its small-town charm that resonates deeply with the part of me that longs for a simpler life. Not that Northbrook was ever a bustling metropolitan, it just never felt like somewhere I wanted to settle down — and maybe that has more to do with my relationship with my parents than the town itself.
The people here are kind, if not a little nosey at times. But nothing could’ve prepared me for the sexy spitfire who materialized on my doorstep this morning. Maybe it was the stress of the cross continent move getting to me, or maybe it was the exhaustion, but I was a bit of an ass when she asked me to keep it down. Despite my terrible first impression, I’m not usually such an asshole. Broody? Maybe. But outright rude? No, that was definitely out of character.
A pang of regret settles deep in my chest as I recall the interaction. Her heart-shaped face was bare, giving me a glimpse of the freckles along her forehead and cheekbones, andthe haunted hazel eyes hidden behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. And fuck, don’t even get me started on her body. I could get lost in those tits and die averyhappy man. She’s gorgeous… and I owe her an apology. Which Iwillget to — later. First, I need to run to the hardware store for another pack of screws to finish hanging my shelves, and maybe take care of the raging hard-on I’ve somehow conjured with just the memory of her body.
Shoving my wallet into my back pocket, I step out onto the porch, preparing to lock up behind me, when a faint giggle catches my attention. I scan my surroundings as a pair of stubby legs peeks out from behind the old oak tree in my front yard, only to vanish again seconds later. The process repeats as I spot a small child swinging on the time-worn tree swing. I mutter a curse as a wave of concern washes over me. I haven’t had a chance to check if it’s safe yet.
I approach quietly, taking in her dark, curly hair and wide blue eyes. A sudden jolt of sadness hits me. If it weren’t for the vibrant shade of her eyes, she’d almost look like a younger version of my sister — the Paige I knew before our parents irrevocably changed everything.
“Hey, little one…”
I’m not sure how to talk to kids… do I introduce myself? I should probably practice before Paige makes me an uncle. Before I can consider the next step, she stops swinging and pins me with an assessing stare. A moment later, her face lights up with an unrestrained smile, as though I’ve passed her inspection. “Hi!”
I glance around the area, searching for a responsible adult. “Where’s your mommy or daddy?”
As soon as the question is out, her expression falls, and she points across my front yard towards Ivy’s house.Of course. The 4-year-old.
“Are you supposed to be out here by yourself?”
“No, but I don't like when daddy yells at mommy,” she says, her voice much more hesitant and subdued. Memories of a younger Paige assault me — her tear-stained cheeks as she recounted the midnight arguments and raised voices; the way she pleaded with me to let her sleep in my room so she wouldn’t have to hear them. I have many regrets in this life, and I’ll never forgive myself for not protecting her when she needed me.
Unsure what to do next, I ask, “Do you want me to stay with you for now?”
She shrugs, not seeming to care one way or the other. I take a seat on the tree stump nearby and she resumes swinging. In the meantime, I pull out my phone and shoot off a text to my sister.
Luca: Hey, Ivy’s little girl is outside in my front yard and I’m not sure what to do.
Seconds later, my phone begins to vibrate. I answer on the first ring and Paige’s shrill voice assaults me. “What do you mean, you don't know what to do?”
