Page 26 of All At Once

In his shelter of his arm, Eva gave a pleased shiver and giggled while he read about the plucky heroine trying to uncover the secrets of a haunted house. Eleanor joined them, sitting close to his side so she could see the drawings as well. In the kitchen, Caitlin cut the biscotti loaf into strips, soft, rhythmic thumps of the knife.

Eva yawned, snuggling into him. The oven closed behind them. Eleanor rested her head on his shoulder.

“Was that a ghost? Rosa peered into the shadowy . . . room.” The book slipped in his grip, and he shook his head, blinking heavy lids. He yawned, then resumed reading. “No, that couldn’t be a ghost. Ghosts weren’t . . . real. And if it were a ghost, she shouldn’t . . . be afraid. Because ghosts were just . . . a piece of the past. And they couldn’t hurt . . .”

Pulse thudding under his jaw, Tick jerked awake, hazy pieces of a dream scattering. Do you have to go? hovered on his lips, but hell if he knew who he was talking to. He blinked, pool lights filtering into the family room.

He was alone on the couch, a blanket draped lightly over chest and lap, and the book lay on the coffee table. Down the hall, Zeb snuffled in his sleep. Twisting his wrist, Tick squinted at his watch.

A little after two in the morning.

Laying the blanket aside, he levered off the couch and eased down the hall to look in on the girls then backtracked to make sure the house was secure.

In their bedroom, Caitlin slept, turned on her side in their bed. He should shower, but he just wanted to be close to her. He stripped down, washed his face and brushed his teeth.

In his boxers, he climbed into bed and wrapped himself around her. He owed her an apology, but not just that — he owed it to her to slow down and work through his shit.

He owed it to her to be better than this.

Flexing his arm, he tightened his hold. With a murmur, she nestled into him, and he smiled into her hair. She was always seeking him out, the way he sought her. She was his steady center, and he didn’t need to forget that.

“I love you,” he murmured next to her ear. He closed his eyes, letting the drowsiness pull at him. “I’ll do better.”

Chapter Seven

She Is

“I don’t have to speak Italian to know that guy’s a dumbass.” Tick studied the couple on screen, the male actor holding his female cohort captive across her car door while she looked at him wide-eyed. He’d buried himself in the day’s chatter reports while Caitlin watched a movie next to him. She was coming off something ugly at work, too, if the genre was foreign melodrama.

“She’s so stupid.” Caitlin feathered a hand through her hair, mouth twisted in derision. She bunched the rich teal throw in her lap. “One doesn’t go to the extensive trouble of establishing a new identity only to tell the man one is hiding from one’s new name.”

“Hey, I tried to give you a new name when I married you.” He draped his arm along the back of the couch behind her. “You weren’t having any of that.”

An unmistakable smirk curved her full mouth, and she returned her attention to the screen. Tick dropped his gaze to the report to immerse himself once more, thankful for the Italian dialogue because he could tune it out — he caught the occasional word he knew, but it flowed like background noise.

He finished Ransome’s reports and started on Everly’s. This go round looked better. They were learning.

Caitlin shifted next to him, hip nudging his.

“Fottimi . . .”

Now that word he recognized since his wife knew murmuring it in his ear guaranteed her a reaction.

He glanced up. In an ornate library, the woman wearing an equally ornate evening gown leaned over a settee, the man’s hand under her skirt, his mouth on her neck. “Well, hell. Didn’t know we were watching porn.”

She elbowed him, right under his ribs, hard enough he winced.

Turning his attention back to his laptop, he stroked a finger down her arm, tracing random designs while he read. She rested her hand on his knee, settling more closely into his side. The ordinariness, after days of upheaval and his screw-ups, sank into his soul, bleeding out in a slow exhale.

She squeezed his knee, and the moment squeezed his lungs. He’d needed this, the simple, quiet time with her, and hell, she probably needed it, too, since her husband had been a wound-too-tight jackass lately.

His phone warbled, the ring tone assigned to calls coming through his work number.

“I have to answer that.” He softened the statement with a slight hug, cupping her shoulder before he tipped her away from his side and grabbed his device off the coffee table. “Calvert.”

“Hey, Calvert, you busy?” Sealy’s voice vibrated with intensity, and Tick’s anticipation tingled to life.

“Hey. No, man, I’m not doing anything.” He pushed up from the couch and headed for the office, but not before he caught a glimpse of Caitlin arching a single brow sky high.