Page 74 of Noble Neighbor
Movement below caught her eye before the rumble reached her ears. Nala and Hooch raced around and someone — Oliver? — sat atop a snowblower, a small, bundled-up figure beside him. “Molly?”
What was her daughter doing outside so early in the morning? Sunny glanced back at the bedside clock: 8:57 a.m. And blinked. Surely not? But it was the time, the seven turning into an eight even as she watched in growing horror. She could not think back to when last she’d slept so late.
Plus, it was Molly’s birthday! And there was much to do before their guests arrived. Quickly donning a fleecy dressing gown and thick non-slip socks, she rushed from her room.
Reaching the landing, the muted voices from thekitchen became audible. The gruff one belonged toFrank, and then Clement’s laughter floated up, followed by Kenzie’s excited giggle.
The sound entranced Sunny, halting her steps, and dammit, her eyes watered.
She bent her knees and sank to the top step. Hooking an arm around the balustrade, she rested her forehead against the turned wood. From this position, she had a view into the kitchen. Frank was wearing her flowery apron — the peony and butterfly one he’d gotten her for Christmas — and standing behind the stove, keeping up a steady stream of words still too distant to beclear. The kids were outside her eyeline, but their banterwith Frank was lively, interspersed with more cheerful sounds.
Life was so damned good, she kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. And Sunny hated herself for that. After five years of being on their own, she and her girls deserved their slice of happiness.
But Oliver didn’tknow. And if he did …
Would it be so bad, Sunny? To let him in, tell him your story?
The front door slammed open, and she moved her head to peer between the slats. Molly burst through, the two dogs bounding after her, and the trio raced across the hallway to the kitchen, leaving muddy tracks in their wake.
Before she could open her mouth to scold, Oliver appeared, his frame filling the doorway.He stopped after crossing the threshold, hands to hips, shaking his head at the dirt spread across the floor, but an indulgent grin creased his face as he shrugged out of his jacket.
Frank raised his voice in the kitchen. “Nala, you know better,” he scolded.
Woof-woof.
Ruff-ruff.
“Sorry, Grandpa Frank,” Molly sing-songed, adding to the canine apologies. “I forgot.”
Frank’s reply was too low to catch, but Sunny couldn’t help the choked exhalation escaping her at Molly calling Frank “Grandpa”. She closed her eyes and dropped her head to her knees. The man had asked if it was okay, saying he was tired of being called Mr. Frank by the two girls who’d crept into his heart.
She’d agreed. But hearing it tore her heartstrings. He was the closest they had to a grandfather now. Her girls would never knowtheirPapa.
Instead, they had Frank. Their honorary grandfather.And she was grateful they had Frank. He was an indulgentman, a good man, honorable like his son. Sunny, too, had fallen for the older man.
Thethudof a nearing footfall broke into her reverie, and she looked up. Straight into the incredible green eyes of Frank’s son.
Her pulse kicked up a notch.
Oliver stood a few steps below, gaze raking over her. “Sleeping beauty has woken.” He pulled off the green-and-blue beanie, leaving his hair mussed.
Sunny itched to run her hands through it, needing to connect with him.
“But she’s frowning, not smiling. What’s up?”
It was a perfect opening line.Tell him, Sunny.
But today was Molly’s birthday. Nothing was going to mar her baby’s big day. She held her hand out to him and tugged when he clasped her fingers in his. His hand was icy, and Sunny reached for the other when he sat beside her, rubbing both between hers. “It snowed,” she remarked, determined to break out of her mood.
“Yeah.”
Oliver’s grin crinkled his eyes, and Sunny traced a finger across the outer edge of one. She smoothed her palm across his head, gripping tight on a fistful of hair before yanking his head closer. “Thank you for clearing my drive,” she whispered just before his lips closed over hers.
Sunny lost herself in the feel of him, the taste of him, the smell of him. Rugged man, chilled from a task to help her; a hint of coffee, maybe some cinnamon, on his breath; a whiff of musky sweat nudging aside the bergamot soap. Lust rushed through her, melting her insides, pooling deep in her core. She positively ached for this wonderful man beside her. “Oliver,” she groaned against his mouth, drawing his tongue deeper, desperate for more. So much more.
She shifted, about to lift her leg over his to straddle him, when a deep sigh shuddered from him, and a large hand pressed against her thigh. “Love what you’re thinking, sweetheart, but we have company,” he murmured, his voice laced with regret.
A handful of snow shoved down her back couldn’t’ve chilled her ardor any faster. “Damn,” she muttered, sneaking a look through the banister.
