lipstick right now.” My smile widens as I picture Ryker sitting at the small vanity as Lucy demands to give her own princess makeover to the two of us.
“There’s only one place I allow lipstick on me, and your shade of red would look lovely in a ring around it right now,” he murmurs against my ear, causing me to snuggle in against him. My head on his shoulder, my hand on his chest, my body wanting him . . . but then again, when does it not want him?
“Watch me!” Lucy says to us as she follows the ladies to the middle of the terrace. She has a new princess dress on, her hair is done and adorned with a tiara, and the ladies are demonstrating some kind of “royal dance” they are going to teach her the steps to.
“She’s nervous,” I murmur.
“How do you know? She looks happy to me.”
“She keeps reaching for her necklace.” We both watch her as she reaches up several times over a short period to grab the key on the chain around her neck. “That’s her tell.”
“What’s with the necklace?” he asks after she does it again.
“It was Sam’s. She used to wear it all the time when we were teenagers. I forgot about it, but after she died, I found it in some of her stuff. Lucy thinks it’s the key to her mom’s heart. It’s her way of coping, of thinking she has her mom near.”
“What does the key belong to?”
“My sister used to tell everyone it was the key to her secrets.” I laugh and hear her voice saying it to friends. “It was really the key to our old house. The last one we lived in with our mom before she died. That’s all.”
“I like her story better,” Ryker murmurs, pulling me back into memories of another place and time.
Of laughter before the darkness. Of the bed we shared together and the late-night giggles we’d try to hide. Of innocence shattered and a past I don’t want to think about.
“Come back to me, Vaughn.”
“Sorry,” I say and lift our joined hands to my lips and kiss his, more than grateful I’m with a man who can read me so well.
“Don’t be.”
Lucy’s giggle carries over the distance, and I study Ryker out of the corner of my eye as he watches her. His smile is soft, his eyes kind, his body relaxed.
“You’re good at this, you know.”
“At what?” He looks over to me and then back to Lucy.
“The dad thing. Have you ever thought about having kids?” I say the words and then realize what they sound like. And of course he responds at the same time I realize my gaffe.
“Are you offering?” His laugh rings out.
“No. That’s not what I meant. I just meant . . . you’re good with kids. Surprisingly good—”
“Kids I can handle. They’re a lot like men. You give them the shiny things that make the most noise and they’re satisfied. Now women, on the other hand . . . I fail at understanding.”
“So you want kids, then?”
He purses his lips and angles his head to the side in the way he does when he really ponders something. “I’ve never really thought about it. That sounds stupid, but I haven’t. My stance on relationships was that they were temporary at best.”
“That’s promising,” I tease with a nudge.
“Yeah, but . . . when you don’t have something, don’t grow up with a set ideal, the thought of living it is scary.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” I murmur.
“You can talk about it with me, you know.”
“What do you mean?” I ask the question, although I already know the answer.
“Connecticut. Samantha. Your uncle. I promise you I have a good record keeping secrets.” He squeezes my hand. “At least my clients think so.”
“Thank you,” I say softly. “There’s nothing more to tell.”
“I know, but . . . I’m here.” He pulls me in tighter against him.
I look up at him and press my lips against his. It’s a soft kiss but one packed with so much emotion that it’s hard to open my eyes when the moment ends.
So I don’t. I just rest my forehead against his and breathe him in, surrounded by a silence sprinkled with Lucy’s laughter and the distant sounds of the city.
“You’re wrong, by the way,” I whisper against his lips.
“About?”
“You understand women better than you think.”
Another brush of lips.
“No. I understand you.” A rub of his nose against mine. “You changed things, Vaughn. You