Читать книгу A Celebration Christmas - Nancy Thompson Robards - Страница 9

Chapter Three

At six o’clock the next morning, Cullen was in the kitchen making himself a cup of coffee when Lily showed up at the front door with her arms full of reusable grocery bags.

“Let me help you with those,” Cullen said, taking the three sacks from her. “What on earth did you bring?”

“I picked up some things for lunch,” she said as she took off her coat and scarf. “And we’re going to do some baking today.”

As he set the bags on the island in the kitchen, he peered inside and spied grapes, carrots, peanut butter and a loaf of whole-wheat bread, among other things.

“The baking sounds like fun for the kids, but I was going to leave you some money to order pizza again. Wouldn’t that be easier than fixing lunch for four?”

“Cullen, most kids love pizza, but not for every meal. I don’t mind cooking for them. Really, it’s no problem.”

Her blond hair hung in soft waves around her shoulders, and her cheeks were still pink from the chilly morning air. She wore a red sweater that looked soft and very touchable and blue jeans that he couldn’t help noticing hugged her curves in all the right places.

She was dressed casually and everything about her was appropriate, but how was it that yesterday in the midst of the chaos, he hadn’t noticed just how attractive she was? How could he have missed that and those curves showcased so nicely this morning?

As he reminded himself that her curves were none of his business, he forced his gaze back to her face. She looked remarkably fresh for having left just eight hours ago. For a split second, it crossed his mind to ask her if she would like to move into the guest room for the month that she’d be watching the kids. But then he thought better of it.

She would probably want a little space and some boundaries during her time off. His gaze dropped to that full lower lip. Or maybe he was the one who needed the space. He certainly needed to respect the well-drawn boundaries that should be observed in this type of circumstance.

“Please leave me the receipt for the groceries so I can reimburse you for the things you purchased. Did you go to the store this morning?”

She shook her head.

“Last night,” she said and started unpacking the bags, putting things away as if she were completely at home.

He liked her ease and confidence. “You must’ve gotten home after midnight. Did you get any sleep last night?”

He hadn’t.

Even though the house had been quiet and calm, as if everyone had been under Lily’s serenity spell, he’d spent a fitful night chasing the squirrels that had raced around his head, making him doubt the realities of taking in four kids—even on a temporary basis. Where had all this doubt come from? Misgivings that had him searching for solutions in the hours when he used to sleep soundly and deeply? Nothing used to disturb him in the few hours he had away from the hospital.

“I’ll get used to the new schedule in a few days,” she said. “I’m adaptable. But then again, I’ll probably just be getting used to the nanny schedule when I have to go back to school. Isn’t that how it always works?”

“Then you might as well stay on here rather than go back to school,” he said.

She stopped what she was doing.

“Does that mean that you’re reconsidering adopting out the kids?”

No. He wasn’t. He couldn’t. And he had no idea why he’d even suggested she stay on, other than he needed his coffee. “No, I’m still going to find them a home. And I don’t mean to make them sound like a litter of animals.”

He flinched and started to clarify what he meant. The words were right on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them when he heard the sound of the kids moving around upstairs.

“And speaking of,” he said.

There was loud stomping and even from a distance it sounded as though they might be arguing about something. The dog started barking, taking someone’s side. Cullen couldn’t tell whose. All he knew was that the serenity spell Lily had cast over the house the night before was broken. He hoped to God that she could work her magic again today.

“After they come downstairs, I’m going to say good-morning and then I need to get to the hospital.”

Lily pointed to the coffeemaker. “Don’t forget your brew.”

“Actually I haven’t had time to make it yet. Would you like a cup?”

“If you’ll show me how to use that fancy machine, I’ll make myself a cup after you get yours,” she said. “I don’t want you to be late.”

They walked over to the coffeemaker. She stood so close that he could smell her perfume, a delicate, feminine floral scent that had him breathing in deeper.

He had just measured the coffee grinds and told her, “You need one scoop for every—” when an ear-piercing scream cut him off and had Lily and him racing into the living room to see what had happened.

Hannah was standing at the top of the steps, crying and holding her finger. Megan was yelling at George, who was holding a stick that should’ve been in the backyard, not upstairs in the bedrooms.

“You hurt her!” Megan said.

Bridget was standing back quietly observing as her older sister continued to let George have it.

“What’s going on up there?” Cullen asked from the bottom of the stairs.

Lily had already gone up to the child and was kneeling at the little girl’s side, looking at her finger. “You’re bleeding, sweetie. What happened?”

“George took away Franklin’s fetch stick. I didn’t want him to have it because he said he’s going to take Franklin outside without a leash. But I don’t want him to because Franklin might run away.”

“George, what did you do, buddy?” Cullen asked once he was up there with them.

“He yanked the stick out of her hand,” Megan answered. “That’s how she got the splinter.”

Great. A splinter.

“You have to be careful, pal,” he said, trying his best to keep his voice as even as possible. “You’re stronger than you realize. I’m sure you didn’t mean to do it on purpose, but you hurt your sister. Can you tell her you’re sorry?”

All eyes shifted to the boy, whose face had clouded like a thunderhead. “No,” he said. “She’s dumb. She’s a dumb, crying baby.”

He turned around and walked out of the room.

Suddenly the dirty dishwater that the hospital tried to pass off as coffee sounded better to Cullen than the strong jolt of joe he usually made for himself, because there was nothing he wanted more right now than to leave all this chaos behind and go to work. Even if the hospital’s coffee was bad and that place could be a different brand of bedlam sometimes, at least it came with a chaser of quiet in the form of his closed office door. When he needed to think, all he had to do was shut the door, and unless the place was falling down, no one bothered him. Before they did, they had to go through his administrative assistant, Tracy.

“We need to get this splinter out,” Lily said. “Do you have any tweezers? We’ll probably need some hydrogen peroxide and antibiotic ointment. A bandage would help, too.”

“It’s all in the hall bath,” Cullen said. “The room where you cleaned up the blue foam yesterday.” The place that always seemed to draw the drama—whether it started or ended there.

Cullen motioned Lily and Hannah to follow him. As the three of them squeezed into the hall bathroom, the dog tried to wedge his way in, too.

Lily scooped up Hannah with one arm and petted Franklin with her free hand, keeping him at bay but allowing him to see that the girl was okay.

“Thank you,” Cullen said. Caring for children was infinitely easier with two people. He had no idea how she managed it on her own. Then again, four kids, even kids as spirited as these, must’ve seemed like a picnic compared to a classroom full. Obviously some people had the gift and others didn’t. Lily, he decided as he gathered the supplies, was the child whisperer. He was way out of his league.

He set his cell phone on the counter.

“I’m going to move this over here so it doesn’t get splashed,” Lily said, pushing it behind her with her free hand.

“Thank you. At the rate my morning’s going, I’d probably end up knocking it in the toilet.”

He and Lily exchanged smiles, and it was...nice. It made him feel as if the day wasn’t destined to be all bad.

First he had the little girl wash her hands with soap and water. Then as he prepared to swab Hannah’s finger with hydrogen peroxide, she pulled her hand away, tears brimming. “Will that hurt?”

“It shouldn’t,” Cullen said. “But I’ll bet Ms. Palmer will let you squeeze her hand just in case.”

“Her name is Lily,” Hannah said. “Yesterday, she told us that we could call her Lily.”

“Fair enough,” Cullen said. He smiled as his gaze snagged Lily’s and he wondered why it was that he’d never noticed until now how green her eyes were. And they were flecked with little veins of gold. Nice.

“It might be easier for me to get the splinter out if she sits on the counter,” he said as he picked Hannah up and set her on the vanity.

He had just started to grab the tiny sliver of wood when his cell phone sounded the arrival of a text.

“That’s probably the hospital. I’m late.” He nodded in the general direction of the phone, still trying to remove the offending particle. “Would you mind texting them back to say that I’ll be right there?”

Lily picked up the phone.

“Oh.”

Cullen looked over and met her gaze. “Is there a problem?”

Lily’s eyebrows rose and a faint blush colored her cheeks.

“Well, it’s not the hospital. It’s someone named...Giselle?” Lily cleared her throat. “She says—and I’m paraphrasing here—but she’s very eager to see you tonight. It seems she has quite the night planned for you.”

Oh, hell.

Heat warmed his face. He glanced down at Hannah to see if she’d caught on to the situation. But she was studying the finger that was now splinter free.

“Here—never mind.” Cullen held out his hand for the phone. After Lily gave it to him, he shoved it into his pants pocket as if the action could undo Lily having read the message, which was bound to be graphic, knowing Giselle.

He felt like a letch for having subjected her to it. Of course, if he’d known Giselle would pick that precise moment to offer a preview of coming attractions, he wouldn’t have asked Lily to pick up the text. In fact, he’d been so busy since the kids arrived that he’d completely forgotten he was supposed to see her.

Was that tonight?

He couldn’t bring a woman like her around while Lily and the kids were here. Before he’d taken the kids into his home, he hadn’t realized all the ways they might change his life. When had he ever recoiled from a spicy Giselle text or passed up a chance to see her? But given the circumstances, he didn’t have a choice but to decline.

“Does your finger feel better, Hannah?” he asked after he’d slathered it with antibiotic ointment and applied a bandage.

She nodded through a one-shoulder shrug. “Sort of. It would feel much better if I had a princess bandage.”

Lily took the little girl down from the vanity, held her good hand and led her out of the bathroom without looking at Cullen. “The next time I go to the store, I’ll make sure to get some princess bandages. A princess should always have a special bandage. You’re very brave to wear the ordinary one for now.”

Cullen stood alone for a moment, listening as their conversation grew faint. He certainly hadn’t thought taking in the kids would throw him into a crisis of conscience. After all, he was single. He and the women he dated were consenting adults and very clear about the no-strings-attached nature of their relationships. He wasn’t doing anything wrong.

So why did it feel as though he was?

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that it wouldn’t be this way forever. The kids would be living with him only until the end of December. Then he could resume life as he knew it.

* * *

Nothing said let’s be friends like a big stack of homemade pancakes. After Cullen made his awkward exit, Lily did her best to put the racy contents of the text she wished she’d never read out of her mind.

It wasn’t easy to erase the image of Cullen doing the things Giselle had so graphically described in her message. The only problem was her brain kept imagining Cullen doing those things to her.

Lily wasn’t a prude—she’d been engaged and had enjoyed a healthy relationship with her fiancé before everything turned south—but those thoughts were so inappropriate when she was supposed to have her mind on the kids. For God’s sake, the thoughts were inappropriate even if she wasn’t watching the kids. Cullen Dunlevy was her boss. And even as progressive and open-minded as she fancied herself, she certainly was no Giselle.

She forced the thoughts out of her mind—or at least relegated them to the very back, dark corners of her overactive imagination—and fired up the griddle she’d brought with her. She made cheerful small talk with the kids as she mixed up a batch of pancake batter for them.

She let them flip their own, which the girls loved. George, however, was less than impressed. He slumped on a bar stool at the kitchen island, kept his head down and his attention on his handheld video game while the three girls enjoyed their breakfast and chatted among themselves.

“Come on, George. Will you please put down the game for five minutes so you can make your pancakes?” Lily cajoled. “It’ll be fun.”

George didn’t answer.

“Just five minutes, George, please? That’s all it will take.”

Nothing.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Lily said. “If you’ll make your pancakes, I’ll let you lick the bowl when we make sugar cookies after breakfast.”

George looked up, his eyes glossy with irritation. “Doesn’t Uncle Cullen pay you to make my breakfast?”

Lily’s eyes widened at the boy’s cheeky response. She walked around to the same side of the island where George was sitting, pulled out the bar stool next to him and sat down.

“Your uncle Cullen pays me to look after you.” She took care to keep her voice even and soft. She was used to dealing with the occasional conflict like this in the classroom, but George’s attitude grew from a place of hurt. The boy probably felt angry and displaced after losing his parents and the adoptive parents who had agreed to take in his sisters and him. He was in limbo and unsure where they would end up, much less if he and his sisters would be able to stay together. Of course, Cullen said keeping the kids together was his goal, but Lily couldn’t help wondering how realistic it was, especially given that he was intent on finding them a place by the end of the year.

The boy had returned his attention to his video game, his thumbs stabbing angrily at the buttons on the device. What George needed more than a battle of wills over pancakes was some compassion and understanding.

Lily stood. “Okay, if you don’t want pancakes for breakfast, you can have milk and cereal. Help yourself.”

George didn’t respond. He simply poured himself a bowl of oat cereal, skipping the milk. He took his breakfast and his game and headed into the other room.

“George, don’t you want to help bake cookies?” Lily asked, giving it one more try.

George turned around and glared at her. “No.” He started to walk away.

“Then what would you like to do?” Lily asked. “I don’t think your uncle Cullen wants you spending your entire Christmas break playing video games.”

He leveled her with a blank stare.

“I could get you some books if you’d like to read.”

He grabbed a handful of cereal and shoved it into his mouth.

“Or if you don’t want to read, tell me some of the things that you enjoy doing—besides video games.”

“Not baking,” he said. “Baking is for girls.”

She thought about telling him that some men were pastry chefs and they were actually quite famous for it, but she knew there was no sense in trying to win him over.

“On the radio this morning, I heard about a boys’ basketball camp that’s going on during the holidays over at the community center,” Lily said. “Would that interest you?”

His expression changed. It wasn’t quite what you’d call agreeable, but it was a far cry from the defiant make-me face he’d worn just a minute ago.

“If you’d like, I can talk to your uncle Cullen about getting you signed up for it.”

He nodded, then turned and disappeared into the next room with his cereal and game.

When the girls were finished with their breakfast, Lily put Hannah and Bridget to work measuring flour into large bowls. She had Megan creaming butter and sugar together. Her plan for the day was to have the kids make and decorate Christmas sugar cookies. She also wanted to teach them how to make a Christmas bread called stollen, a confection filled with dried fruits and marzipan.

“A long time ago, in Germany,” she said, “they used to make a huge loaf of special Christmas bread called stollen. It had all kinds of fruits and spices and a special filling. It weighed tons and it was big enough to share with everyone in the city. They’d bring it out and feed everyone.”

Megan was squinting at her. “They ate stolen bread? Who did they steal it from?”

“No, it wasn’t stolen, as in illegally taken from someone,” Lily said. “It’s called stollen. It sounds the same, but it’s completely legal. Believe me, I wouldn’t teach you about anything illegal.”

“How big was it?” Megan asked, still looking as if she wasn’t buying the story.

“What?” Lily asked.

“You said the stollen bread loaf was big enough to feed the entire city,” she said incredulously. “How big is that?”

“This big?” Hannah hopped off the bar stool and held out her arms wide.

“Oh, much bigger than that,” Lily said, winking and playfully waving her off.