Page 20 of Loving Roman
Marcus tips his head toward the tidy home. “Mr. Armstrong is the sole counselor at this property. He’s in his mid-forties and has worked for us for around thirteen years now.” My eyebrows shoot up in astonishment. It’s incredibly rare to encounter a single man in this type of role. Marcus must read my surprise. “He’s one of our best, wrangling six preteens who were removed from some decidedly terrible situations.”
Even though my heart squeezes for what these kids must have experienced in their young lives, I nod along as he speaks. “I look forward to meeting him and the children in his charge.”
“Mr. Armstrong has worked tirelessly to create a home thatfeels more like a family for these kids. The children have developed strong bonds with each other and with him. He’s exceeded our expectations, but it’s exactly what we hoped to achieve with this program.”
I smile at Marcus. “Sounds impressive.” I wave my hand out and dip my head. “Please lead the way.”
We climb the steps, and he knocks sharply on the front door.
13
–roman–
I settlethe kids with their afternoon snack before they get started on homework. I love spending this time catching up on each of their days. It’s a rowdy, energetic time, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I still feel like I’m catching up on what I missed after being away for a long overdue break. Being the ‘Domestic God’ that I am, I baked brownies while they were at school after I changed and washed all the bedding and towels. I follow a strict routine to ensure I mostly stay on top of things around here. I also tidied up for Marcus’s visit with our new social worker this afternoon—sometimes they can be pretty tough to impress.
We’ve had the same social worker for the past few years, but Macy needed to move interstate to care for her sick grandmother. We got along well, and she understood the place couldn’t always be pristine with six almost-teenage kids in the house. She was satisfied with things so long as the house didn’t look like a hovel, the kids were doing well in school, and were happy. I pride myself on ensuring the kids in my care feel as though they’re part of a ‘real’ family unitin a ‘real’ family home—I know I’m doing my job right because they often fight like siblings. Just as they are now.
“Okay, okay, Pete, settle down. Ivy gets the message. You two will have to take this up outside at the hoop if you can’t come to an agreement.” Any disputes are often sorted out over shooting hoops. The person with the most hoops wins, of course. Generally, stepping outside to run around and bounce a ball in the fresh air solves a multitude of problems with these kids. If that doesn’t work, extra chores usually stop them in their tracks.
Just as they settle down, pouting at each other, a knock sounds at the front door. I give the kids a meaningful look before stepping out of the kitchen to let Marcus and the new social worker in. I warned them this morning that Marcus was bringing Ms. Reed for a visit this afternoon. They all sit up straight and start behaving as though butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths, which I know is false. Satisfied they’ll be on their best behavior, I stride down the hall, wiping my hands on my jeans. I take a deep breath, put on a welcoming smile, and swing the door open. As the door clears the opening, my eyes catch on Marcus … and …Alice!
My heart picks up speed as though I’ve just come back from my morning run.
What is she doing here? How did she find me?
I do a double take, rubbing my eyes to ensure I’m not seeing things. I mean, the woman’s been constantly on my mind since returning home. When I look back at the woman standing at my front door, my heart kicks against my sternum and excitement floods through my system.
Alice.
TheAlice I never thought I’d see again.
TheAlice I just spent my days and nights with while on vacation.
TheAlice who allowed me to defile her repeatedly.
My eyes graze the length of her body, pausing on the curve of her breasts, the slight dip of her waist, and the flare of her generous hips. I’m pretty sure that after less than a week, I know her body better than I know my own.
I take a breath as I remember how the few days we spent together were barely enough to experience everything I wanted to with Alice. Intelligent conversation about things that matter, sharing vacation experiences together, and exploring each other’s bodies with hands, tongues, and lips. Our compatibility in and out of the bedroom was incredible, and I was certain I left my heart at the inn as we said goodbye—but here she is. It’s like the planets have aligned just for me, delivering my perfect woman right to my door. I had come to terms with the idea that I would never find a woman who was perfect for me in my mid-forties, so finding Alice was surprising.
Marcus clears his throat, drawing my attention to him. Reluctantly, I pull my gaze away from the woman I thought I’d never see again—because let’s face it, I doubt she would have turned up at the inn in one year—but hoped against hope I would. With eyebrows drawn tight and frown lines creasing his forehead, Marcus doesn’t appear to be happy with me. And why should he be? I’ve been standing in the doorway, mute, ruminating in my head instead of offering a proper greeting to my guests.
“Hey, Marcus. Great to see you again.” We shake hands.
“Hello, Roman.” He gestures to the woman I know intimately. “This is Ms. Reed, our newly assigned social worker. Ms. Reed, this is Roman Armstrong, the carer for this particular home.”
Turning with a wide smile to greet Alice, she widens her eyes, drawing her mouth tight as she shakes her head slightly, tilting it toward Marcus. My smile drops at the message she’s sending me. Clearing my throat and schooling my features, Ihold out my hand to greet her in a professional manner. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Reed.”
I never got her surname during the time we spent together as part of our agreement. The familiar, relaxed person I met on vacation is gone. Today, her back is as stiff as a board, her nose high in the air, and even though she’s much shorter than I am, it almost feels as though she’s looking down on me—it’s like she’s erased our time together from her memory.
Studying her closely, I notice a flush making its way up her neck. Good, she’s equally affected by our unexpected meeting as I am. She slides her small, soft hand into mine, and the same sparks I experienced on vacation race up my arm and straight to my dick.
“Hello, Mr. Armstrong,” she responds in a clipped tone. Her eyes, which have been darting around the space, finally settle on me, and I try to telegraph that I’m as surprised as she is.
She discreetly nods, letting me know she got my message, and I step out of the doorway. “Sorry, where are my manners? Please come in.”
Marcus brushes my arm as he steps inside, and Alice deliberately gives me a wide berth to avoid all physical contact as she follows him; her footfalls as clipped as her tone. Her cornflower-colored eyes take in the space—cataloging everything in the span of a few moments before she forces a smile my way. I understand she’s surprised our paths have crossed, but I’m getting a vibe from her I don’t like. Marcus keeps walking toward the kitchen, and I take the opportunity to have a quiet word with Alice.
I want to step into her, smell her familiar vanilla scent, feel her heat, touch her soft skin; but I don’t want to make her more uncomfortable than she already seems. I lower my voice to keep our conversation private. “I sense you’re not happy to see me, Tesoro.”
