Page 91 of Knocked Up in Alaska

Chapter Twenty-Six

From his seat on the top step of the porch of Lilah’s cottage, Ford watched headlights swing into the drive, heard the crunch of crushed shells under slow tires. Seconds later, the headlights washed over him, along with the sharp grind of a tight turn, and then Lilah parked the Jeep next to his truck.

Her porch light made it easy to see even with her headlights extinguished. He stood, breathed in wet, salty air coming off the cove, then strode to the Jeep with the intention of opening the door for her. But instead, he simply paused there, heart leaping like a puppy, when she smiled at him through the glass—a smile so open and full of simple joy at the unexpected sight of him, he wondered how the hell he’d ever survive without it.

Drawn by the smile and his masochistic heart, he opened the door, leaned in, and kissed her. He’d meant to surprise her, but something wild and free in the way she returned the kiss surprised him. She literally vibrated with energy…excitement. A contagious vibration, apparently, because he felt answering energy rise in him. Not just the predictable sort that occurred automatically when he had her mouth under his, but something deeper and more fundamental—like those ripples in the pond of his soul spreading out from the center in perfect symmetry, like redwood shoots breaking the forest floor to start a journey of growth that would last a thousand years. Like planets aligning all over the motherfucking universe.

When he finally drew away, she gifted him that smile again, set off by sparkling eyes and a glow even the cloud-filtered moonlight couldn’t mute. “She asleep?”

Lilah nodded. “Down for the count. She had a long, momentous day.”

“Momentous, hmm? Must have been a good trip to Anchorage.” He kept his voice low, conscious of the little one sleeping in the back, and ran his fingers through her long, loose hair.

“Really good. It’s really good to see you, too, though, so you can claim a little credit as well.”

He backed up while she gathered bags onto her arm, relieved her of the diaper bag when she stepped out, and shut the door as quietly as possible behind her.

“What brings you by?” she asked as she circled the trunk to get to the back passenger door.

What her long legs did for a pair of swishy red shorts stole his breath nearly as completely as what her curves did for a basic white V-necked T-shirt. “Maybe I missed you?” No “maybe” about it, but what the hell was wrong with him? He could blame it on the shorts and the T-shirt and everything underneath them, but he didn’t say things like that. Especially not to her.

Wrong though it was, it amped her smile, her beauty, to radiant proportions.

Careful. She’s not yours to keep. “Bridget called to let me know she’d picked up the new printer I ordered. She mentioned you were headed home. I had some fairly momentous news I wanted to share, so…” He shrugged. “Here I am. I was getting a little worried, though,” he added, coming alongside her to close the passenger door after she freed Shayla from the car seat. “Took you longer to get here than I expected.”

She grimaced. “I wanted to stop by the post office—”

“Yeah, Bridge mentioned that.” He checked his watch, which told him it was coming up on ten thirty. “Even so…”

Carrying a large gift bag in one arm and Shayla cuddled snugly against her opposite shoulder, she led the way up the shell-strewn walk to the porch, aiming a rueful glance back at him. “I had a slight detour. I’ll tell you all about it, but first”—she shoved the front door open—“I want to know your momentous news.”

“Okay.” He walked into the cottage’s small, pitched-beamed living room, set the diaper bag on the low, white spindle-legged table by the rolled arm of a gray sofa. “My first momentous news is that you need to start locking your door when you’re not home.”

“Oh.” She gave him a self-conscious grimace. “I know it’s lazy of me, but I’m usually hauling Shayla and a hundred other things with me when I come through the door. It’s so much easier to leave it unlocked, and we’re well off the beaten path. I guess I’ve gotten into the habit.”

“Break it. Captivity may be safe, but every summer it bursts at the seams with unknown quantities from the lower forty-eight, not to mention the rest of globe. Any one of them could wander by, think, ‘Let’s check that out,’ and do some damage. Ray was concerned enough about intruders not to want to leave it empty all summer. Take a page from his book, please.”

“We both know Ray had no intention of leaving the cabin empty all summer—”

“Lilah.”

“Okay, okay, okay. I’ll lock the door from now on. I promise.” He caught the hint of a patient smile curving her lips as she turned toward the short hall that led to the bedroom. “Have a seat. I’m just going to tuck her in.”

Then she was gone. He lowered to the sofa to wait. The smile told him she thought he was overreacting, but she’d stick by her promise anyway. Content with the knowledge, he stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and looked around.

There wasn’t much to the place. From his vantage point, he could see straight through to the kitchen, with open shelves and an over-the-sink bay window as its limited claim to charm. Honestly, he hadn’t thought much of the cottage when he’d first seen the inside, shortly after she’d moved in—a basic, slightly shabby wooden box, freshly whitewashed to hide the shab. It had been clean and tidy, at least, because Lilah was a clean-and-tidy soul, but over the last several weeks, she’d put her stamp on the place, turning it cozy with sky blue pillows on the sofa, the fuzzy blue throw draped along the back of the single gray upholstered chair that sat kitty-corner to the sofa. A trio of yellow pots sat in the kitchen’s bay window, their various green sprigs growing toward the sun. Yellow hand towels hung from the fridge and the oven. A pink-and-gray travel crib took up a corner of the front room. The coordinating quilted bouncy chair positioned nearby only added to the comfortably lived-in appeal.

When she returned a few minutes later, bare feet slapping softly on the weathered wood floor, she paused by the arm of the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’m good.”

Her smile returned. “Me, too.” She took the spot beside him, snuggled in a little so the armrest supported her back, and drew her legs up so her bare feet rested on the cushion by his hip. Pearly pink toenails flirted with the seam of his jeans. Big green eyes flirted with him. “Where’s Mia tonight?”

“She’s home, deep into a Netflix binge not appropriate for viewers younger than fourteen—or older than fifteen, as far as I could tell.”

She laughed. Wiggled her toes against his leg. “Sounds like fun. I’m glad she’s not nervous to stay home alone at night.”

“Not at all. Although I did tell her to lock the door.” He narrowed his eyes at her, and she rolled hers. “I also told her I’d be home by midnight, and she can call me if she needs me home sooner. She knows I came here to share the momentous news.”

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