Iris fussed over the flowers, touching and moving them slightly as though she were going to rearrange them when they both knew the arrangement was perfect and she just needed something to do with her hands. Marguerite said, “Feeling a little overwhelmed?”
“A little. Our family’s great but, you know.”
Iris didn’t need to know the bad part, not when she was flying so high, so she stuck with part of the truth. “It was the most amazing night I’ve ever experienced in my entire life.”
Her sister closed her eyes briefly, leaning back against the counter. “Details. I need details.”
She shook her head. “Not here. Not now.”
“Okay. I would just like to talk about anything right now apart from babies, scans, and wedding details. It’s all too much. There’s a reason people usually get married first, and then have kids. You can only take on one huge project at a time.” She glanced into the den where Cooper and Paisley were arguing over Adelaide and Sophie. Jack and Daphne were both laughing and Geoff looked as though he could play the baby-naming game all day long.
“Do you want me to get them out of here? Confiscate that book from Cooper? What can I do?”
Iris glanced over at the laughing group. “No. It’s fine. I just needed a moment.”
Marguerite looked at the chunk of her family sitting there and said, “Every baby should come into a family with this much love.”
“With two babies? We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“You said you maybe found a helper for the bakery?”
“Rose has a good friend who just got married. Apparently, she has a cousin, Kimberley, who used to work in a bakery. She’s got some kind of training. They’re supposed to be getting an email, a phone number or something. She lives in Portland but I get the feeling she’s looking for something a bit quieter.”
“That’s great, it’ll make your life a lot easier. And now that you’re growing two babies instead of one, I tend to think Geoff’s right, and you need to rest more.”
Iris dropped her voice to a near whisper. “God knows I love that man, but if he doesn’t stop trying to wrap me up in cotton wool and pamper me all day long I’m going to smack him upside the head with a frying pan.”
She tried to bite back her smile but couldn’t. “Don’t forget he’s overwhelmed too. It’s his way of telling you he loves you and he wants to be there for you and the babies.”
“I know. And I’m fully aware that I’m being a complete bitch. But, I figure with the number of hormones I’ve got running around my body, I’m allowed to be the Queen of the Bitches.”
“Damn straight. And I am here to serve your majesty.”
* * *
Alexei feltlike his world was damn near perfect. His business was taking off, he had an interesting side hustle with the cookbook, and most of all, he had an amazing woman in his life. His night with Marguerite hadn’t been planned. He’d followed, spontaneously, what had felt right. He was certain she had been on the same page with him. Nothing could have prepared him for the way she had made him feel. He loved her responsiveness when he touched her, her pleasure in her body and frank enjoyment of sex. The way she’d felt in his arms as they were drifting off to sleep and he could feel her heart beating beneath the breast he held cupped in his hand, the scent of her hair. He liked everything about her from her commitment to her business and the way she grew her food to the way she made him feel. She was such a relaxing person to be around. He was aware that he was always moving, always multi-tasking, but she had the rare gift of focus. When they were together, he knew he had all her attention. She wasn’t checking her Facebook while he was talking, or fiddling with her hair or twitching.
Having watched her get ready to go to her parents’ place for dinner, after the fall fair, he’d liked that she didn’t take half a day to get her makeup just right or try on seven outfits before selecting one. If she had a fashion style, it was a combination of Earth mother and hippie chick. She seemed drawn to natural fabrics and soft, well-worn jeans. They suited her natural beauty. His mother was right. And it cost him something to admit that his mother was right, Marguerite wasn’t the conventional beauty of air brushed celebrities and anorexic models. Hers was the kind of beauty that was celebrated in his home country. It was in the rounded shape of her face, the full mouth, the depth in her eyes, her luxurious hair as well as her womanly curves. His mother might be a pain in the ass in many ways, but she was smart.
He wasn’t a bit surprised when his mom called. “I like that girl. The one you had for dinner. She’s good for you.”
He couldn’t help but shake his head. “Mama, you saw her for five minutes.”
“I have eyes, me. I saw the way you looked at her. I also saw the way she looked at you.” And she chuckled softly. “Besides, she said she wants children.”
“You bulldozed that poor woman into a corner, what was she supposed to say? Anyway, she said she likes children, not that she plans to have dozens with me so that you can get your grandma fix.”
“I’ve been on this earth a lot longer than you, plus I’m a woman, we always see more. Trust me when I tell you that girl is good for you.”
He didn’t want to admit to his mother how right she was. But he knew in his heart that Marguerite was right for him on many levels. The trouble was, Marguerite didn’t seem to feel the same way about him. She’d made a couple of comments that morning over breakfast that had suggested she was not looking for anything serious. That surprised him as he’d believed she would take her relationships pretty seriously.
He was also disappointed. At this point in his life, and he would never admit this to his mother, he was looking to get serious. At heart, he supposed he was his mother’s son and his father’s son. His dreams and ambitions had never been big. He had a job he enjoyed, something that he was good at which made him proud. He felt established in life and deep down he knew he was ready to settle down with the right woman, God willing to have a few of those kids his mother wanted so badly, become a stalwart member of the community.
Sure, he was never going to set the world on fire, or save lives the way his brother Matt did, but he was fine with that. If he could feed people good food, keep alive the traditions of his homeland, and make enough money to live comfortably, he was happy.
The cookbook was an unexpected bonus. Not so much because he thought he would make money off it, but because it allowed him to see Marguerite in a very nonthreatening way. The irony wasn’t lost on him that he, who had been forced to change phones several times in order to avoid women who were a lot more interested in him than he was in them was now looking for excuses to phone the woman he genuinely was interested in.
Of course, he’d never been under any illusions that those women had seen him for who he was. It was the Adonis curse. But, when Marguerite looked at him, he felt that she really saw him. Maybe that was why she was so special. She saw below the surface to the man he was inside, and he was arrogant enough to think that he could see her too. So, for now they’d work on a cookbook and he’d do something he’d had to do very little in his life—he’d work at wooing a woman.
