Page 66 of The Homemaker
He stands. “Soup? Heck no. It’s too hot for soup. I’m not sick. I’ll run out and grab my favorite Banh Mi.”
I stay in character, the homemaker who didn’t fall in love with this man eight years earlier. “Enjoy.”
“If you don’t want hot soup, I’ll let you ride along with me to get a sandwich.”
I clear my throat. “Do you think your fiancée would approve of that?”
“It’s a sandwich, Alice. Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m a taken man.” He smiles like the devil, not like a taken man.
After I finish the soup, serve Mr. Morrison a bowl in bed, and read him a few chapters of a new book (a steamyromance), I poke my head into Murphy’s room. “Is the Banh Mi offer still good?”
He turns with a smile and stretches his arms over his head. I let my gaze slide to the T-shirt riding up just far enough to show an inch of his abs. Heat fills my cheeks when I make eye contact with him, and I know he saw me.
“Does Mr. Morrison know you’re leaving?” He stands.
“Yes. I told him we were going to lunch together.”
Murphy freezes.
I spin on my heel, grinning when he can’t see me. “What? It’s just a sandwich. Get your head out of the gutter. I’m a taken woman.”
“Did Coach Callen put a ring on your finger?”
I continue toward the back door. “I’m going to change my clothes. I told Mr. Morrison that I had a few errands to run. Want me to drive? I’m parked on the street where there are no cameras.” I glance back. “Not that it matters, because Blair would never be jealous of you taking her dad’s homemaker to lunch. Right?”
“This is sounding less like lunch and more like a full-on affair. Should I be worried that you’re trying to steal your boss’s daughter’s fiancé?”
“Stop. You’re setting me up for a good joke that you won’t find funny.”
He follows me out the door after I change my shoes. “I fear you underestimate my sense of humor.”
I laugh without stopping or waiting for him. I don’t know why he’s following me to the guesthouse instead of waiting for me to change my clothes.
“Say it,” he says.
“It’s cruel.” I open the sliding door.
“But funny?”
I glance back at him. “It won’t be funny to you. Just cruel.”
“Well, try it.” He tucks his hands into his back cargo shorts pockets.
“Why would I need to steal my boss’s daughter’s fiancé when he’ll most likely be put on the sale rack in a few months?”
Murphy slowly lifts his eyebrows. “Are you implying she’ll call off the wedding and I’ll be a bargain? Marked down like something that no one wants?”
I bite my lips together.
“Damn, Alice. That’s harsh.”
“I’m—”
He cuts me off with a hearty laugh as he fists a hand at his mouth. “But funny.”
I squint, restraining my grin while I assess him for a few seconds. Is it really okay to laugh? “I’m sure you’re the one,” I say.
His laughter simmers. “Nothing’s a guarantee. But you’re not really living if you don’t take chances. Right?”
