Page 22 of A Temporary Memory

Screeching resonated from inside the house, then Ivy’s voice reprimanding Grayson for some dishes-related trauma drifted out.

Cody dragged in an even breath. “I’ll give you a bonus to help me out today.”

“Two hundred is the daily breakdown.” I didn’t mention I’d be working half a day today.

Grayson’s yells and then loud sobs could be heard. Poor Grayson sounded like he needed a hug and a nap. I’d had several days like his as a kid. As much as I wanted to go to him, I had to watch out for myself first.

The phone in Cody’s polo shirt pocket buzzed. His resolution set firmer. “I’ll give you five hundred.”

I narrowed my eyes. “In my experience, the other party doesn’t usually go up in their offers, and you’ve done it twice.”

“You need the money, and I need the help.”

“I’m not a charity case.” I was a charity case, but I didn’t want to feel powerless.

“I am.” He dragged a hand through his hair, loosening the hold his product had on his strands. I liked the softer look to him. “Look, Ivy is a tiny extrovert, and she needs more company than me and her brother, and Grayson’s been having regular meltdowns since his mom died.”

“I used to get inconsolable every time my mom relocated us.” I bit the inside of my cheek. His gaze intensified, but I acted like I’d said nothing of consequence. He could be open and raw at times, and it was easy to be the same with him. No one could fake the heaviness in his gaze, and I’d lived in a city full of actors my whole life. “Go hold him. Sit quietly for a while and just let him know you’re there and you know how he feels. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Thank you, Tova.”

I nodded and turned to go before I shoved past Cody into the house and gathered the boy in my arms. His sobs hurt my heart, but he needed his dad first. I wasn’t going to replace the kid’s mom, no matter how much I’d like to find out what Cody was like in bed.

Four

Cody

I rushed through finishing the dishes after lunch. I handed a plate to Grayson for him to carefully dry. Meg had been big on giving them daily chores, but we’d had a dishwasher. I relished having a few moments to do something as mundane as dishes with my kids, watching them bicker like brother and sister and prance around because they couldn’t sit still. These instances reminded me of when I was a kid, before Mama abandoned me and my siblings.

She’d tell us about her hopes and dreams and make us feel like anything was possible. Which made her abandonment sting more. Nothing had been possible once she was gone. We were under Barns’s rule, and without Mama as a buffer, we’d become hired help—for no pay.

I didn’t want my kids to feel like I ditched them. But I also didn’t want them to grow up feeling like they were never enough. I didn’t want them stuck like I was.

The whole work-life-balance thing had been hard with two full-time working parents, and Meg had often complained about how much time my job demanded when hers was similar. Her dream was to move back to Helena, or even farther west, to Seattle. But my obligation to the ranch was strong, and she’d very grudgingly acquiesced, sacrificing more of her career to live in Buffalo Gully. The two of us had been making a solid go at it. By myself? I couldn’t. If Grayson and Ivy lived with my in-laws, surrounded by love and attention, they wouldn’t feel like I never had time for them.

Which was the unfortunate truth.

I caught myself scrubbing a pristine plate. How long had I been washing it? My fingers ached. I wanted what was best for the kids.

Yet I wasn’t sure I agreed with Meg about what that was.

I rinsed another plate and gave that one to Ivy. She was tipping from side to side, excitement vibrating from her, beside herself about Tova’s impending arrival.

I was the same.

Only because I’d be able to work without distraction. Sort of. Having Tova in the house would steal my attention enough, but only because I’d have to keep an eye on her until I was reassured I could trust her with my kids.

Not because she was beautiful. My lack of focus wasn’t due to the way her toned thighs flexed when she moved. And fuck’s sake, I wasn’t thinking about her being a burlesque dancer.

Strip. Tease.

The doorbell rang. Ivy shoved the plate on the counter and sprinted out of the kitchen, barely edging out Grayson to be the first to the front door.

“What’s the rule about answering the door?” I rounded the wall separating the kitchen from the living area the entry opened into.

The front door hung wide open, and Ivy was leading Tova into the house. Tova’s grin stretched her lovely face, and her eyes danced. The woman wouldn’t need to remove a stitch of clothing to captivate an audience. She was alluring and sensual, and...

She used to remove her clothing, though. And my brain insisted on circling back to that specific topic. How much clothing? What exactly did she show? Did she undress to those damn tassels that kept flashing in my head and panties that were nothing but floss and a dream?

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