Page 28 of Reckless Love
“Ten hours is the bare minimum, and having standards is not a bad thing,” I say, following him inside. “Landon and I are fine. There’s no need to go to extremes.”
“You’re fine because the door was locked. What if whoever it is returns with something to force the door open?”
“They’re mad he’s being a dick about them unionizing. Do you really think they’d go to that extreme?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m being paid to consider all the angles, all possible threats,” he says. “We’ll stop at my house on the way home when you’re done with work. I’ll need clothes for the week.”
The idea of Stephen sleeping under the same roof as me, of him spending all day and night here, sends a shot of adrenaline through me that makes my heart tremble.
“We have spare rooms,” I say, trying to keep my outward composure. “I’ll have the maid make one up for you.”
“Thanks,” he says, and he barely offers me a glance when Landon comes racing out of the kitchen and flies into Stephen’s arms as though he’s been doing it for years instead of a few weeks. Without hesitation, Stephen flips Landon around, sending my son into squeals of laughter.
A chill of sadness seeps into me that Landon doesn’t get this kind of attention and affection from a man in this house more often, that once this unionization threat has been put down, Landon loses this connection.
When we leave my office at the end of the day, Stephen drives us to one of the few middle-class neighborhoods on the outskirts of Tucker’s Town. It’s a subdivision I’ve never been to before, but I can tell from the two-story houses and bigger bungalows that it’s not rich-rich or poor-poor.
The semicircle driveway he pulls into sits in front of a large, long, gray brick bungalow. The landscaping leaves something to be desired with overgrown bushes and flower beds that need attention, but since Stephen works long hours, that makes sense. If he’s bought into Owen’s business, I don’t know why he wouldn’t just hire someone to do his lawncare.
He turns around in the driver’s seat when I unbuckle my seat belt to get out with him. “You stay here with Datu.”
“What?” I let out a laugh of disbelief, but I don’t have time to protest before Stephen has left the car and is striding up the long accessible ramp to the front door.
Someone who needed a wheelchair must have lived here before Stephen purchased it.
I open my door, and I have one foot out before Datu turns around in the passenger seat, a look of panic on his face.
“Ms. Tucker,” he says, “Mr. Foster wants you to stay here.”
“Datu, I am not a dog. He cannot tell me to stay and I’ll wag my tail and sit around waiting for a pat on the head. Besides, he might need my help.”
As Datu is launching another protest, I get out and slam the car door, heels clicking quickly toward the front entrance. Unless Datu wants to get out of the car and tackle me to the ground, he’s not stopping me.
I give the faintest knock on the front door, knowing Stephen’s going to be pissed that I tagged along. Curiosity is definitely my downfall.
“Knock, knock,” I call softly as I open the door.
“Who’s there?” an older female voice calls.
“I’ll check,” another female voice says.
A chill goes through me that he might live with a woman. If that’s the case, of course he wouldn’t want me in the house. How awkward.
I’m stuck with one foot in the house and one out when a young woman dressed in scrubs appears in the entrance. “Can I help you?”
“This is Stephen Foster’s house, isn’t it?” I ask, straightening. He just entered. It has to be.
“This is the Foster residence,” the woman says. “Are you here with Stephen? He just went through to his apartment to gather some things.”
I step fully into the house, and I stand in the front foyer, calculating. “This bungalow is separated into apartments? Is this your apartment? I’m sorry.”
“Who are you, exactly?”
“Ava Tucker.”
“Did she say Ava Tucker?” an older male voice shouts from beyond the front foyer. “Invite her in. Come in. Come in.”
The woman steps back and waves me through. “It appears the elder Mr. Foster would like to entertain you.”
