She must have imagined it. She set her lunch on the table and wiped her clammy hands on her skirt.
The front door closed.
Or that was what it sounded like. Which was ridiculous. And impossible.
Obviously, she’d been out here in the boonies by herself for too long and it was getting to her. Frustrated with her overactive imagination, she poked her head into the hallway to confirm all was as it should be.
Her heart stopped at the sight of a tall man, dressed in black and wearing a ski mask, standing with his back to her in the front hall.
Fuck fuck fuck. Panic exploded in her chest as she eased back, praying the swinging door wouldn’t squeak as it swung closed. She couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her heart.
As soon as the door settled shut, she ran.
“Uncle Reese, tell us more embarrassing stories about Rupert!” Christian cajoled with the maniacal joy of a teenager who coveted any dirt on their parents. Oliver, at age six, had less of a prurient interest, but still liked a good story.
Reese grinned. He and Christian were impervious to Rupert’s death glare. Reese had the advantage of being Rupert’s oldest and closest friend, and Christian knew his father could never really be angry with him.
Reese racked his brain for a juicy yet audience-appropriate story. “Well, there was the time Rupert went skinny dipping in the school’s pool. Which was, as I’m sure you can imagine, completely against the rules.”
Rupert gasped, radiating indignation.
Callum put down what he was working on in the kitchen and came closer. “Really?” It didn’t take a careful study of Callum’s expression, or a genius intellect, to know he was picturing it.
Oliver, fortunately, was too young to notice. Christian made gagging noises and rolled his eyes at his admittedly revolting parents. Eleanor, barely a year old, slept happily against her uncle Reese’s chest.
“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t exactly Rupert’s idea,” Reese allowed.
“Not my idea?” Rupert yelped. “Youconvinced me to sneak in at some ungodly hour of the night and to dive in from the highest platform.”
“I didn’t think you’d do it! And Idefinitelydidn’t know you hadn’t tied off your trunks properly.”
Callum laughed. “The dive pulled them down?”
“Clean off,” Rupert admitted.
“No,” gasped Christian, clutching the waistband of his jeans as if they might suffer the same fate.
Reese cackled. “Yes!”
“That was twenty years ago,” Rupert muttered, glaring at Reese some more. “And you’re a terrible friend.”
Reese shrugged, unconcerned—he could see the smile Rupert was fighting—and shifted Eleanor so the phone buzzing in his pocket wouldn’t disturb her. His plan was to sit on the couch with Eleanor asleep on top of him all afternoon, if that’s what she wanted, though at some point, he was meant to tour the apartment being built for him one floor down.
As if conjured from his thoughts, the men who owned the building and were constructing Reese’s apartment came through the front door with hardly a knock.
“Mike! Alexei!” Oliver cried, hurling himself over the back of the couch toward his two favorite people.
“Oliver!” Alexei boomed in his usual speaking voice, which was roughly the same volume as a foghorn. The Russian goalie caught Oliver mid-air and clutched him tight.
Mike kissed Oliver’s cheek and came over to the couch. “You ready to take a look at the space? Hodges is already poking around, so I told him I’d come get you.”
“Sure,” Reese said, looking at Eleanor. “Is it safe to bring her with me?”
Because there was no way he was passing her off. He only made it to Moncton about once a month, so he would shamelessly hoard his Eleanor-time and everyone else could adjust.
“Sure,” Mike agreed easily. “No fumes or anything to be worried about. But the space is still rough, so you can’t put her down.”
The thought had never crossed Reese’s mind.
