“Upstairs?” he asked again, humor tingeing his voice.
“Yes, upstairs. First closet on the right.” She watched him stroll toward the staircase, his backside making her take a deep breath. The man was over-the-top gorgeous in a sexy mountain-man kind of way. Why hadn’t she noticed him before?
“Mama, can I have some more milk?” Jennifer asked, holding up her glass.
“Yes, baby. Coming right up.”
Even with the dinner dishes scattered about, Jessica’s kitchen had never looked cleaner. She filled the girl’s cups halfway with more milk, tussling baby Jo-Jo’s blonde curls along the way. She sampled the remnants of the pasta dish sitting on the stove. It was incredible.
Tim reentered the kitchen and picked up a water bottle he had stashed in the corner, gulping it down quickly. His Adam’s apple moved with each swallow, and Jessica caught herself staring. Even his throat was sexy. She blushed and looked away, taking another bite of the food. “What is in this? It’s so good.”
Tim smiled and refilled his bottle at the sink. “I just used what you had in the fridge. Broccoli, carrots, Monterey Jack cheese, a bit of parmesan…”
“You put vegetables in this?” Jessica whispered, interrupting Tim and leaning closer so the girls wouldn’t hear.
He chuckled as he screwed the top back on his bottle. “If you cut them up real small and steam them first to soften, they never know.” He kept his voice low.
Jessica was flabbergasted. Not only did the man know how to garden, change a diaper, fold towels and pick up toys, he had somehow coerced her daughters into eating real vegetables. “You’re the little girl whisperer,” she joked. This made him laugh out loud. Her daughters giggled in response, watching them banter with interest. She wondered what other unique talents he had.
They tag-teamed while cleaning up the dinner dishes, Tim insisting Jessica finish the pasta. He teased her about the earlier Oreo raid in the pantry and suggested she get some real nourishment in her system other than cookies. The sun was already dipping low on the horizon as the girls settled down to watch one more show before bedtime.
As Jessica wiped down the counters, Tim approached with his hands in his pockets. “Your four-year-old, Julia—she doesn’t say much, does she?”
Jessica pursed her lips. “She’s my quiet girl. She’s always been like that. Her pediatrician assures me she’ll start jabbering away when she’s ready. For now, Jennifer does all the talking for her.”
“Yes, I noticed.” He sat at the bar and laced his fingers together. “You have a beautiful family, Jessica.” In a hushed tone, he continued. “Where’s their daddy?”
She froze, unable to look him in the eye. Her own eyes welled unexpectedly with tears. What was wrong with her? She should be glad that bastard was out of their lives—glad she had a chance at a fresh start.
“Hey… Hey, Jessica, it’s okay.” He came from around the counter and stood next to her, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. The heat from his palm sent a shiver through her body. “Jennifer told me he doesn’t live here anymore. I remembered the envelope in your hand and kind of put two and two together. You’re going through a divorce, aren’t you?”
She shook her head vigorously and corrected him. “Iwentthrough a divorce. It was finalized today. My lawyer sent the final papers.”
Tim squeezed her shoulder as if to comfort her. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she said, craning her head to look up at him with misty eyes. The pendant light over the marble island cast a gold orb around his glorious head of hair, and for a second, she couldn’t help but think he looked exactly like a model on the cover of one of her friend’s romance novels. “I’m fine now. I just needed a moment to get over the shock. Thank you so much for being here for me—for us.” She waved her hand outward toward the girls.
“You’re welcome.” His smile made her weak in the knees. “If it’s alright, I’d like to check in with you from time to time when I’m working in your yard. Say hello?”
Jessica used her index finger to wipe a stray tear from under her eyes, her smile beaming. “I’m sure the girls would like that very much.” And she wouldn’t mind either.
Chapter Three
Tim’s house was dark, the headlights of his truck throwing long diagonals of light across the cinderblock modern structure tucked deep in the woods. The large parcel of land he owned outright was surrounded by clusters of trees, steep ravines, and open fields; an oasis for a man who liked to live his life in quiet and solitude. He punched in a code on the keypad to his elaborate alarm system, ready to finally relax after the long, unexpected day. He tossed his backpack into the foyer corner and made his way into the spotless kitchen, flicking on lights along the way. He grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and opened it, taking a long pull from the bottle. Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his fingers lingered on his beard and tugged the long hairs that grew out from his chin. What a day.
The Kaufman yard was the only plot he had managed to work on; his other two clients put on the back burner. He only worked three days a week for the small, independently owned landscape company, the manual labor something he thrived on, keeping his mind off his past. The owner of the company, a hard-working Latino man named Martin Hernandez, was more than appreciative for any time Tim could spare to help with the prosperous business. That, and the occasional translating he did on behalf of the company for some of the larger jobs of the wealthy clients. Tim was California born and raised, living most of his adult life on the West Coast. Growing up on his parent’s almond farm in Northern California, he befriended many Spanish speaking day laborers and their families. You could say Spanish was his second language.
The large open floor plan of his home was sparsely furnished; his minimalistic mindset a new reality after having it all. The emptiness of the rooms carried over into his heart. But today had been different. Today, his heart was…full.
Flopping on the oversized couch, he reflected on the time he spent with the Kaufman girls, especially Jessica. How Stephen Kaufman could let go of such a beautiful woman like her, he’d never understand. Her blue eyes took his breath away, the curves of her body making his hands twitch to reach out and caress her flawless skin. Her Southern drawl was charming, the love for her children, evident. Surely, she wasn’t one of those women who married for money. But why else would she have ended up with a man like Stephen Kaufman? Some women were like that, and the thought disappointed him.
He recalled edging the front lawn of their estate one sunny afternoon several months ago, surprised when Mr. Kaufman pulled up the driveway in an over-the-top sports car and asked him politely to leave. Perplexed, Tim didn’t say a word and packed up. That was when he noticed a pretty brunette in the passenger seat. He left the home as instructed and never thought about the incident again. It all made sense now. Mr. Kaufman didn’t want him there that day because the woman in the car wasn’t his wife.
Tim shook his head and chugged more beer. Jessica asked him point blank why he was so good with kids, especially when he brilliantly changed the diaper of little Jo-Jo. Lucky for him, he had spent an entire three months with his sister Tabitha and her family. His two young nieces, one of which was a toddler, required lots of love and attention, which included diaper changes. Tabitha wasn’t about to let him get away from his uncle duties and taught him the basics.
Tim sighed and finished off the beer, reflecting on those special months with his sister and her family. It was right after his entire world was rocked; when he needed to escape the chaos and uncertainty of his future. Tabitha encouraged him to come to Malibu and cleaned out a spare room in her beach house just for him. Thankful for the rest and the precious time with family away from his old life in Northern California, she insisted he stay as long as he needed. His sister was instrumental in helping him decide to take some time off from the West Coast altogether until the dust settled. Opting for the suburbs of Atlanta and the warm climate he loved, Tim found he could get lost in the landscape, lick his wounds, and figure out his next step. Two years later, settled on a small plot of land he could call his own, he was content, for the most part living day by day without the constant barrage of media and irate fans hounding his every move. It was a simple life, one he had no intention of sharing with anyone from the outside world, ever.
His day started early, at six in the morning with a long run through the trails he had traversed daily for months, or a bike ride on the winding streets of the suburban back roads before the early commuters took over the asphalt. His state-of-the-art home gym was a sanctuary where he spent long hours pushing his body to the limit. The land he bought had been on the market for years, developers turning their nose up at the unusual landscape that included woods, fields and steep, rocky inclines. It was the perfect, private place for a man who had fallen from grace.
