Page 14 of Challenged By You
Quickly grabbing my jacket, I shoot off a text to Karlson with the new parameters of my living situation for the next twenty-nine days. His reply ofHow the hell are you supposed to survive on a salary like that?makes my lips quirk as it resembles my own thoughts so closely.
Apparently very easilyis my fast reply as I race for the subway stop near my building.
Chapter 6
Jonas
After being buzzed up, I’m greeted the moment I get off the elevator by a very different Trina Paxton than the one I left hours before. She’s… I struggle for the right word in a mind that’s forced to think of the perfect ones week after week, finally landing on softer.
Her attractiveness hasn’t diminished by the fact she has a tiny little girl clinging around her neck or a sturdier-looking boy with identical features of a similar age clinging to her leg. If anything, it amplifies the assessment I’d already started to form of her. Adding the very real visual of her as a mother shouldn’t cause me to want to rub a hand against my aching heart. But my eyes narrow as I get closer. Suddenly, awareness strikes me. “Your children are twins?” I blurt out the question as I approach.
Immediately on guard, Trina throws up shields around her family that must be part of the magical superpowers mothers earn once their children are born. “Does it matter, Jonas?” Her voice is a mixture of sleepy frost that hits me low in the gut.
“Only because I’m a twin,” I inform her.
That shocks her enough to step backward, yanking the door with her. “No way.” She thaws enough to gape.
“Really. We’re fraternal, but we look so much alike we often could pass as identical when we were young.” Even though Trina hasn’t quite invited me in, she hasn’t moved either. But because there are little ones involved, I want to make sure I don’t do anything wrong. Instead, I crouch in front of the little boy and point to myself. “I’m Jonas.”
He claps his hand together wildly and shrieks, “Nono!” a chubby finger pointing in my direction. Helplessly, my head tips upward. And I wouldn’t be a red-blooded male if I didn’t notice the length of Trina’s legs out of the periphery of my eye as I find her neither irritated nor trying to block me from entry, but reaching down to pluck the toddler off the floor instead. His chubby hand whacks her on the chin, but she doesn’t seem to notice. The little girl just giggles and kisses the spot as if this is an everyday occurrence.
And in between, Trina backs up all the way and jerks her head for me to join them. Scrambling to my feet, I do, moving past the small family into an equally small family room that has a mug of steaming coffee luring me with its scent to perform a snatch and grab as soon as I spy it on the table.
Then I hear something that sends a shot of adrenaline straight to my dick. “Jo-nas.” Trina enunciates each syllable of my name as she tries to correct her children in a soft voice—softer than I would have imagined from a woman who went head-to-head with the boorish Chef Spencer only nights ago. I just hope my reaction isn’t noticeable.
“Nono!” This time it’s chirped from a tiny feminine voice. I spin around with a wide grin on my face.
Trina’s shaking her head with a rueful smile. “I hope you don’t mind being christened by these two.”
“Not at all. They’re exquisite,” I tell her honestly.
Her face softens as she nuzzles the boy’s head before pressing a kiss to the top of the girl’s. “The small tank I have here is Christopher—Chris. And this is Annabelle—Annie.” Trina rakes her eyes up and over me. “I have an apron,” she offers oddly.
“Do I need one?” I glance down at my casual sweater and jeans, both nice but not ridiculously expensive.
That’s when a spark of the fiery woman comes through when a Cheshire cat smile spreads across her face. “Only if you plan on having a conversation with me in the next thirty minutes. It’s time to feed these two, so I’ll be tied up in the kitchen. I can’t guarantee you’ll come out looking the same as when you go in. But if you’d like to enjoy a cup of coffee and wait, that’s fine.”
Chris yanks her hair and bellows, “Mama, food!”
Giving him a disdainful look, she asks calmly, “Is that how you ask?”
“No. I sorry.” He lays his head on her shoulder. “Hwungry.”
“Me too,” Annie chimes in.
“Then tell me, babies, what do you want to eat?” I don’t know why, but I love that Trina’s not using baby chatter with them. It pulls at memories I haven’t remembered in a long time—ones only Julian might remember along with me. I make a mental note to ask him about them later.
“Sweet toast.” Chris throws his arm that’s not around his mother in the air.
Sweet toast? “How nutritious is that for what, two, three-year-olds?” I wonder aloud.
Instead of taking umbrage, I’m treated to Trina Paxton’s throaty laughter. The husky sound ripples down my spine as she leans against the wall, bracing each of her children against her. Her laughter must be contagious to them, because they start giggling too before reaching out to tickle one another.
A few moments after she regains her composure, she grins. It changes her face from intriguing to pretty in a heartbeat. Her light blue eyes, which both of her children inherited, sparkle like shards of diamonds. “Come on. You can watch how I make it. Then you can decide,” she challenges before ducking around a corner.
Following her, I watch as she straps Chris into the single high chair before reaching in a broom cupboard for something resembling a hiking pack. Quickly placing Annie inside, she swings her on her back. I might have to apologize to Trina’s neighbors downstairs because I’m certain my jaw might be in the apartment below. I try to stand out of the way when Trina leans into the refrigerator to pull out bread, eggs, milk, and butter. From an upper cabinet, she pulls down cinnamon, nutmeg, and sugar. “Sweet toast. French toast,” I interpret correctly.
Amused eyes meet mine as she begins to crack eggs. “It’s easier to explain to two-year-olds. By the way, excellent guess. Do you have children?”
