“She gets it from you,” he said out loud.
“What? Her stunning fashion sense?”
“No, her stubbornness.”
Wynn lifted her chin. “I’m afraid that’s a Westbrook trait. My family has never been known for being stubborn.”
He poked her ribs, and she did her best not to laugh. They settled on the couch with Laney between them and Miles on his right. He threw his hand over the back cushion and began to knead Wynn’s neck. Laney sat still for a moment and then crawled onto Wynn’s lap. Wynn shifted so she was closer to him, practically within his arm. The show about a lost dog unfolded on screen.
He looked down at Miles to find his eyes starting to droop. Laney was right behind him. Judd’s fingers tingled with anticipation, and he rubbed Wynn’s shoulder. She leaned into him, bringing her vanilla-and-honey scent with her. He breathed her in, feeling like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.
They watched for a few more minutes, neither of them daring to make eye contact. It was a strange and wonderful feeling, knowing he would burst with desire and not be able to stop himself from kissing her if he so much as turned his head. It was like a line in the sand, and if he crossed it, there was no going back. He didn’t want to wait, but he knew the rules—no kissing in front of the kids. It was the only rule they had, and he couldn’t be the one to break it.
When he thought he would explode, Wynn pushed herself up with Laney in her arms. “I’m going to tuck her in. Why don’t you take him?”
He found Miles asleep on the arm of the sofa. He hadn’t noticed him drifting off, because all he could think about was Wynn and the soft curve of her cheek. He scooped up the boy and took him to his room, where he tucked him in and gave him a kiss good night. Miles didn’t even bat an eyelash.
Judd slipped into the hallway and ran to the font room. Wynn was waiting there, standing in front of the television. She lifted her arms and surged at him. He met her halfway and kissed her like a man drowning with need. She returned his fervor, running her hands through his hair and down his neck. He picked her up and was carrying her to the couch when the front door opened.
“I saw the lights on—” Birdie stopped mid-sentence and screamed.
Judd set Wynn down and dropped his hands. “Birdie! Don’t you know how to knock?”
“I never have to knock here.” She covered her eyes like she was shielding them from the sun.
Judd looked to Wynn for help.
Wynn swallowed. “Umm. How much did you see?”
Birdie’s eyes squeezed shut. “More than I can erase. You two—ugh! How long has this been going on?” She motioned her hand back and forth between them, her eyes squeezed shut. “Never mind. I don’t want to know. Gross.”
Judd huffed and folded his arms. “Hey. We’re not that old.” He looked to Wynn for confirmation.
“Well, you’re older than me, so …” She winked.
He growled.
Birdie flapped her hands. “Stop! Old people should not flirt. Here.” Birdie held out a set of keys and jangled them in the air, still not making eye contact with him or Wynn.
Wynn took them. “Does this really bother you?” Her voice was soft, nonthreatening.
Birdie moved her gaze to Wynn’s bare feet. “I mean, yeah. I guess. I just never thought of you two like—” She flapped her hands again.
“Please don’t tell anyone.”
Judd’s heart cracked at Wynn’s pleading tone. “Why not?”
Both women turned to him, their jaws hanging open.
“We talked about this. We agreed it would be just between us.” Wynn gave him a hard stare.
“I don’t remember why we did that.”
“Because it’s not right,” Birdie filled in. “I mean, she was married to Thatcher.”
“Right—and I totally honor that. But he’s not here, and I am.” He poked his chest.
Wynn’s mouth fell open another half inch. He’d never expressed so much as a centimeter of possessiveness toward her or the kids. He’d never felt a need to, never had to plant a flag in the yard and call this home. But he wanted it. He wanted the late nights and Christmas mornings with kids jumping on the bed. He wanted to hold Wynn whenever and in front of whomever he wanted.
