Stolen Nights (The Stolen Series Book 1) Page 2
It’s almost too much for me to handle and I can feel the water pooling in my eyes. I may not have known my father, but I’m going to guess that I got my baking skills from him. The kitchen is a foodie’s dream with its granite counters and butcher block island. White cabinets flank one entire wall of the space while the far wall has navy blue lower cabinets and white shelves on either side of a large window looking out to the backyard.
“Sara, these look like brand new cabinets and fixtures,” I explain, still frozen in place at the entrance to the house.
“The bank said he had done some remodeling before his passing. I wonder if that was what the loan was used for.”
“Hmm. . .” I murmur as I step farther into the room, glancing up at the pitched ceiling with dark stained wood beams cutting across.
“I don’t understand why the inside is absolutely gorgeous, but the outside looks like it was forgotten.”
Walking into the kitchen, I run my hand across the cabinets and then the stainless steel appliances that are identical to the top of the line versions I had at my old home. These cost a pretty penny.
Sara follows me into the kitchen area and parks herself onto one of the barstools at the island and rests her chin on her hands.
“From what I gathered, he knew his life was coming to an end – cancer. But he thought he had more time. He put you in his will when you were an infant so it was always his plan to give this home to you. And my guess is that he knew enough about you to know that you would want the space a certain way.”
“I’m just so confused,” I begin, turning toward her with an overwhelming feeling of loss surging through me. “This is a man I hadn’t seen since I was a little girl. A man who left me all of this when I needed it most and had it set up the exact same way I would have done it myself. This isn’t the man my parents ever spoke of.”
“Well, maybe you should talk to them about it. Maybe they can shed some light on why they were estranged.”
“I suppose,” I agree as I nibble on my lower lip, visualizing where I plan to put all of my things. “I guess we should start moving things in. It’s too bad your brother couldn’t help us today.”
“You don’t want my brother’s help, Elle. You know he’d just stare at you the entire time while pretending to lift the heavy stuff,” Sara grunts as she talks about her over-muscled slacker of a younger brother that hits on me any chance he gets.
“Yeah, but maybe he would actually help if I batted my eyelashes and wore some short shorts.”
“Don’t be silly, Elle. He’d just follow you around like a lovesick puppy.”
“True, true. Okay, well let me get the kids a snack and then we can get started,” I say as I wander down the hallway in search of Noah and Kennedy. I find both of them in separate rooms connected by a Jack and Jill bathroom, sprawled out making fake snow angels on the fresh cream colored carpet.
“Hey, kiddos. Want a snack?” I ask, and they both jump up from their angelic positions and rush toward the kitchen.
Noah takes the vacant stool while Sara hoists Kennedy onto the other.
“I’ll be right back. You both sit tight and be good for Miss Sara, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they reply, and I’m thankful every day that I have taught them good manners.
Back outside I walk toward my car and open the hatch of the cargo space to grab the small bag of groceries I picked up this morning. It’s filled mostly with things for the kids and a few items for me to bake with. Tomorrow we’ll have to hit the grocery store in full force, but tonight we’ll order pizza– the kids’ favorite.
As I struggle to close the door and keep the paper grocery bag in my arms, I notice the front door to my neighbor’s house is open. A woman steps out wearing a short black cocktail dress, her shoes held precariously in her fingers, as her other hand reaches up toward a man standing in the shadows of his house. An arm full of tattoos stretches out to weave into the nest of the woman’s dark red hair and it tugs her head back into the shadows.
An unfamiliar feeling pebbles across my skin as I watch the couple kiss and I wonder if my hunger for Dan ever resembled something like that. The need for that one last kiss before leaving for the day. The yearning to feel his lips against mine. I can’t recall ever needing him like my last breath, and that thought sickens me.
Of course, during my gawking at the couple the bag I’m holding slowly slips out of my grasp until it crashes onto the pavement at my feet.
“Shit,” I mutter as I bend down to gather the items and toss them back into the bag.
I look up just as the woman saunters across the yard toward her vehicle parked on the other side of the street, laughing in my direction. Anger boils inside of me, not at her laugh, but at her unwillingness to offer her assistance. A huff bursts from my mouth as I reach up and tighten the ponytail on top of my head and then grasp the bag in my arms as I stand.
My stomps are carried away in the breeze as I walk around the car, but as I reach the hood of my BMW, I sneak a peek over at my neighbor’s house. I can feel his gaze on me, even through the shadows, but I can’t see his face. All I can see of my neighbor is the well-toned tattooed arm that has me wishing that I could see the rest of him. If only to see if he’s tattooed in other places.
My mental images of him don’t last long as his door slamming echoes across the yard and jolts me from my stance in the driveway. Continuing my journey, I walk back into the house and serve the kids each a bowl of applesauce and some animal crackers that they love.
“Alright, you two be good while Miss Sara and I unpack the truck, okay? When you’re done with your snacks just leave them there until I can get a trash bag. Your tablets are in my purse, and you can play with them until I’m finished,” I tell them, thankful I was able to have the electricity and internet restored before we moved in.
Sara and I work for a few hours and get the first round of items unloaded from the moving truck into the house before night begins to fall. I order the pizza, and the four of us sit cross-legged in the middle of the kitchen with our paper plates and cups of water.
The only rooms Sara and I made sure we set up were the kids’ bedrooms and the bathrooms. I’ll worry about my room another time. As long as they have their beds, then I’ll make do.
“Alright, guys. It’s late. So when we’re done with dinner, I need both of you to get ready for a bath, okay?”
The kids nod with their puffed out cheeks full of dough, red sauce, and cheese at my request.
“You probably need to head out too. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?” I ask Sara, realizing that it’s Sunday.
“I do. I’m sorry we didn’t get more done today. I can come back after work,” she insists, but I shake my head. It’s about time I start doing things for myself.
“I’ll take care of it. I’m in no rush. And if I need help, I’m sure I could ask one of my neighbors.”
Sara looks at me skeptically, one of her perfectly tweezed brows angling upward on her head. “I’m pretty sure they’d throw out their back. I know if I keep asking you I’m not going to get anywhere. I’ll come back after work whether you like it or not. I already called an Uber and they’ll be here in a minute.” She holds up her phone with the Uber app pulled up.
“Fine,” I say as we stand and I give her a massive hug, my arms squeezing her tighter than she probably expects as she lets out a puff of air at my attack. I’m not sure where I would be right now if it wasn’t for Sara and her friendship. “Thank you for everything, Sara.”
“Don’t mention it. You’d do the same for me. Try to get some sleep tonight.”
Escorting her to the door, I nod at her request and watch as she slides into the backseat of her Uber pickup.
Turning around, I gaze at my two kids looking up at me with excitement, worry, and love. So much love. And that’s more than any amount of money I could have ever given my ex. The same ex that has signed over his rights to his kids and even asked that I change their last n
ames.
Asshole.
They help me pick up the trash, and then I corral them toward the bathroom where I get all their nightly playthings and special bubbles ready in the hopes of making this transition as easy for them as possible.
Thankful that Noah and Kennedy are still young enough to bathe together, I wash them both down and then fill the bathtub with a few inches of water and about a foot of bubbles, just the way they like it.
Noah and Kennedy play in the bathtub with their bath crayons and ships while I sit on the lid of the toilet watching their little minds create a playful world. Just as I am about to pour a bit more warm water into the tub, the doorbell rings.
“Damn,” I say under my breath so that the kids can’t hear me. The doorbell rings again as if the user is pressing the button over and over.
“I’ll be right there,” I shout without a clue if the person on the other side can hear me or not. “Okay, guys. I need you to play nicely while Mommy goes to the door. No heads under water and no pushing. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mommy,” they both reply as they look up at me with bubbles and water dripping down their faces, their big brown eyes locked on me.
“Good. I’ll be right back,” I explain as the doorbell continues to ring.
As I step out of the bathroom, I tread heavily to the door with a silent conversation rolling through my mind. I grip the knob in my hand and swing the door wide with every intention of giving the person a piece of my mind, but I swallow my tongue when I open the door to the owner of the heavily tattooed arm next door.
Without a greeting, the man with the tightly fitted black shirt snarls down at me. He must be at least six-foot-two because his frame towers over me and I have to tilt my head almost all the way back since I stand at about five-foot-three on a good day.
I’m lost in a spell; his blue eyes piercing through the darkness swirling inside me. It’s hypnotizing.
“Move your car,” he growls, and I have to shake my head to knock myself free from his trance.
“What?” I whisper, needing him to repeat himself.
“Move your car. You’re blocking me in, and I need to leave.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, perplexed as I angle my head in confusion.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know how else to explain this. Your car is blocking me in, and I need to leave.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling my eyes widen as he looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads.
Silence grows between us and I continue to stare at the gorgeous man in front of me, wishing he would turn uglier by the moment as he sneers.
Finally he breaks the stillness and asks, “So, are you?”
“Am I what?” I reply, only partly listening as I hear splashing in the bathroom, my mommy instincts on high alert.
“Are you going to move your car?”
“I can’t do that,” I respond as I turn in the direction of the bathroom just as four little legs carry two wet and soapy bodies across the hardwood floors. One arm is jutting in the air holding a Barbie doll out of reach.
I move away from the door and the gorgeous man just standing there as I chase the kids around the kitchen, praying that they don’t slip and fall.
“But I need to leave. Move your freaking car!”
The two kids stop on a dime as they holler in unison, “Aw. . .,” knowing that a bad word has been uttered in their presence.
I grip the set of keys in my hand as I snatch them from the counter and stomp toward the man standing at my door.
“You want the car to be moved so bad, do it yourself.” I shove the keys into his well-muscled chest and I try not to gasp at the tingle I feel as my hand collides with his body. “As you can see, I am busy at the moment with something far more important.”
He looks intently at me in confusion as he reaches up and takes the keys from my fingers.
“And watch your language around my kids,” I tack on in spite as his gaze falls down to the keys with a heart-shaped charm dangling between his fingers.
He looks up at me just as I slam the door in his face and turn around to look at my soaked kids dripping water on the kitchen floor.
“Sorry, Mommy,” Kennedy says as she shivers in the cold.
“Come on, guys. Let’s get you dried off and into bed.”
I walk them to the bathroom and snag two towels from the hooks and wrap each child in one, brushing my hands up and down the material in hopes of warming them up.
That night I tuck each child into their bed and read them their favorite bedtime story. Kennedy wants her favorite princess story and Noah wants Star Wars. As I turn off the light in Noah’s room, allowing the small night-light in the corner to cast the room in a soft yellow glow, he looks over at me clutching his small bear in his arms.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“Are you going to be happy here?” he asks, and my heart breaks as his concern is solely for me.
“Oh, sweetie. I will be happy wherever you and your sister are. You’re all I need to be happy. I don’t need a place for that.”
He doesn’t respond, but his small forehead crinkles as if he’s trying to figure out some secret meaning to my words. Finally, he yawns and shimmies down farther under his sheets.
“I love you, Mommy.”
“I love you too, Noah. So much.”
Chapter Two – Jackson
It’s been a few days since I watched my new neighbor slam her door in my face. In her defense, I probably came off as a total asshole, but work called with an emergency and I had to get there as soon as possible. It’s not every day that I get a call about a man trying to bench press weights that are way too heavy without a spotter. And of course, he happened to roll the bar to his neck, cutting off his windpipe.
She wasn’t what I had expected when she opened the door. I had seen the long-legged blonde earlier in the day and had hoped that she would be a welcome distraction. Instead, I had come face to face with a haphazard brunette woman chasing her two naked kids.
I don’t do baggage, and I don’t do kids, and this woman looks like she has both of those in spades.
The house had been vacant for a few weeks since James, the previous owner, had passed away. He kept mostly to himself, and I only saw him if we were outside at the same time or if he needed a ride to the store. James didn’t drive, so the driveway issue never came up.
I almost felt bad when she pulled up on Sunday to the overgrown yard and chaotic mess on the exterior, but after meeting the mousey woman the first time and feeling the wrath of her attitude, I felt less worried about the disorder.
I pull up to my house, having been away the last few days shuffling my time between my gym and my landscaping business, sleeping in whichever office I happened to occupy at the time. I notice that the U-Haul still sits on the street as an eyesore.
Her husband must be too lazy to unpack the truck for his family, I think to myself.
My Audi steers into the driveway behind her SUV, and I groan thinking about having to have a conversation with her about the parking situation, something I never had to do with James.
It’s still early morning when I step out of my car, the bright pinks and oranges welcoming me as I gaze up at the clouded sky. The serenity of the moment washes over me as I take a deep breath and stretch my arms up to the sky, my shirt riding up exposing my low slung jeans. A gasp sounds to my right, and I look over to find my elderly neighbor still wearing her robe as she shuffles back toward her house in her slippers after grabbing the newspaper.
A smile rises across my lips thinking about how many times I have watched her scurry back to her home after seeing my chest exposed or a woman leave my house in the early morning. I’m not quite sure if she is set in her old ways or if she’s remembering a time in her youth. Either way, it makes for some entertaining early mornings. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try some naked yoga in the yard to see how fast she can scurry into the house or if she comes outside at all.
I rush into my house, tossing my duffle bag in the entry, and make my way to the back deck where I see another piece of fence post leave the horizontal fence.
“What are you doing?” I shout, rushing over to her with clenched fists.
She peeks through the opening just enough so that I can see her dirt-smudged face and messed up hair pulled back into a knot on the top of her head.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” she retorts with a gloved hand on her hip. It rests on a pink T-shirt covering a pair of short denim shorts that showcase a pair of tanned and toned legs.
I’m a sucker for a good pair of legs.
I look up again and notice her mouth moving and her nose scrunched. I can’t see her eyes behind her tinted safety glasses, but I’m going to assume she’s pissed at me for something.
“What?” I ask, since I completely miss whatever it is she is yelling at me about.
And then she growls, probably meaning to sound ferocious, but it sounds more like a sweet kitten rubbing itself against my leg.
“I said, I am removing the rotten fence that just so happens to be on the flattest part of the yard.”
The distraction of her stellar legs had pulled me away from my anger, but now it’s returned with a vengeance.
“It’s my fence!” I shout.
“And it’s on my property. I had the line surveyed yesterday, and I want it gone. My kids want a playset.”
She’s right. I had an agreement with the previous owner because it was easiest to put the fence on the flattest ground. He didn’t mind so long as I took him to the grocery store.
“You can’t just tear out a fence that I spent money on.”
“Yes I can,” she argues, ripping another nail from the post in front of my eyes.
“Will you stop it?” I command as I hold the top of the post with my bare hands.