Bed Of Roses (The Five Senses Series Book 4) Page 11

  “Uh-oh. Bad night?”

  “Not horrible. Only up four times with her. But Sam went back to work last week, and I’m trying to take the night feedings so he doesn’t fall asleep in class.”

  “I can see where having teachers alert in class might make the school board happy. Tough on you, though. You know I’ll come take shifts if you need.” Gunnar loved holding his precious infant niece. The very first time he’d held the newborn, her small body had snuggled into his chest and pulled on his heart. He’d be happy to stay at Rikki and Sam’s house to take a turn with overnight feedings and diaper changes.

  “That’s nice of you, Gun. But you wouldn’t last through one night. We’ll be okay as soon as she gains another pound or two. Or so I’m told.” Rikki’s chuckle swirled in his ear.

  The sound delighted him. Last year, Gunnar had feared happiness would forever elude his sister. When she and Sam had broken up, when they’d had to deal with a vindictive parent and a hacked website, Gunnar had thought he’d never hear her bright, easy laughter again. He’d been mad as hell at Sam for treating Rikki badly, and secretly relieved when she’d ended it with the stupid son of a bitch.

  Until he’d gotten to know Sam as more than the douche bag who’d broken his sister’s heart. In the end, Gunnar had been the one to push them back together, to help them heal their gaping wounds. And now, he couldn’t get enough of his delightful niece.

  Turning his attention back to Rikki, he asked, “So, what’s up, buttercup?” The memory of Malin’s sexy smile when she’d called him that tripped over his heart. A smile teased the corners of his lips.

  “I called to invite you to dinner tonight. If you don’t already have plans.”

  He knew what plans he’d like to have. It involved Malin, a sauna built for two, and some extreme cardio exercise. He picked up a pen and twiddled it through his fingers. “Unfortunately, I have no plans.”

  “Uh-oh. You make it sound as if you wished you did. Is that because you don’t want to come or something else?”

  “Something else. I’ll tell you about it tonight. What time?”

  “Can you make it over around half past six? Sam will be home from track practice by then. Oh, and you’ll need to bring pizza. No pepperoni. It gives me and the baby heartburn.”

  Laughter ripped out of Gunnar. “So, I’m the guest of honor at dinner tonight, but I have to provide the meal? That’s messed up, Rik.”

  “No sleep last night, remember? I’m too tired to cook and Sam sucks at the culinary arts. We all have to eat.”

  “Fine, but I’m putting anchovies and pineapple on your half of the pie.”

  “If I was still pregnant, that might actually sound delicious.”

  The humor in her voice put the smile back on his face that an hour of studying his accounting records had removed. Once they finalized dinner plans, he hung up and spun his chair around to face the windows overlooking the gym floor.

  The joint hummed with typical lunch hour busyness. Over half of the cardio machines were occupied. Muted noise from the fitness floor filtered into his office. The regular thud of weight plates clanging home as members released their heavy burden then flexed muscles to lift again. Six of his personal trainers worked with clients, some one-on-one, others, like Uncle Buffy, with small groups. The group exercise instructor stood with several individuals outside the studio door. Simply observing the level of activity made him long to change his clothes and hit the weight floor for a vigorous workout. If only he had the time. He owned a gym. He ought to be able to get in a work-out.

  A knock sounded on his closed door. When Gunnar called out, Michael stepped through the portal.

  “Hey, boss man. Got a second?” The words flew from Michael’s mouth, fast and almost incoherent.

  When had this guy’s odd, bubbly style of fast-talking become irritating? Gunnar crushed his annoyance and gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Michael craned his neck as he sat, as if he was attempting to peek at the computer monitor. Clicking the mouse, Gunnar minimized the window. Red flushed into Michael’s cheeks, confirming his suspicion that curiosity had gotten the better of his assistant manager. Just one more thing on a growing list of things to dislike about the jerk. But he was the jerk who’d pitched in today to cover a regular class. He pushed away his aggravation.

  “Thanks for taking the boot camp class this morning. It’s time to replace Allan. I have a couple of instructors in mind, but until we get someone into place, do you mind splitting the classes with me?” Gunnar asked. “I’ll take Mondays and Wednesdays if you’ll do Thursdays and Saturdays.”

  “I can’t do it this Saturday. I’m leaving for some sun and fun in the Caymans. Remember?”

  “Sorry, I forgot. I’ll cover all the sessions until you get back.”

  “Um, I’m working on payroll. I wanted to see if you had a chance to review the time sheets.” Michael’s knee bounced erratically while he drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair.

  As assistant manager, Michael had been in charge of human resources when Gunnar had bought the business. Other than requesting that Michael included him in hiring decisions, it had been simpler to leave things as they were. One less thing to have to deal with, and Michael had been doing an okay job.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Gunnar thought for a moment. “I glanced at them last night. Everything looked okay.”

  The harsh line of Michael’s brow eased. Tension Gunnar had barely noticed melted off the man’s face and the frantic bobbing of his knee ceased. “Okay, well, I’ll go upload the files then. Thanks.”

  Michael leaped out of his seat and beat a rapid retreat from Gunnar’s office. The man’s behavior sent an alert clanging through Gunnar, like a bell at a prizefight. He picked up his pen and flipped it through his fingers again, the gesture helping to focus his thoughts. Maybe he should take more interest in the area of human resources. He’d schedule time with Michael to review employee pay grades and commission files.

  He tossed the pen into the cup on his desk, then stood and stretched. Screw the books. He’d do a quick turn around the gym to check on things then go get in a workout. The exercise would clear his mind. With a bit of extra luck, it might even ease the lingering physical results of kissing Malin Eckert.

  * * * *

  When Sam answered the door he was holding Amelia.

  Gunnar grinned, eager for a chance to cuddle his adorable niece. “Trade ya.”

  Gunnar handed pizza boxes and a large container of salad to Sam. The exchange of cardboard for Amelia’s tiny floppy body was awkward. From the first time he’d held the small miracle against his chest, he’d been a goner. He stroked his fingertip across the silky smooth skin of her cheek. Emotion rippled like waves on a pond when the baby turned her head to follow the movement, her mouth in the shape of an O.

  “God, she’s grown since I saw her last weekend,” Gunnar remarked.

  “She’s a baby. They do that.” Sam laughed as he adjusted the stack of salad and pizza boxes. “Any chance you brought running clothes?”

  Never taking his eyes off the cherub in his arms, Gunnar followed him to the kitchen. “I always have my gear. You want to run tonight?”

  “Not me. I ran after school with the track kids. Rikki wants to get a run in. It’s been hard for her to fit exercise into her schedule between work and Amelia.”

  When they entered, Rikki turned from the sink and leaned against the counter, drying her fingers on a dishtowel. “The doctor cleared me to run again but I haven’t had a chance. Sam said he’d bathe her and handle the nighttime bottle if I could convince you to go with me. I’m begging you to take pity on me. Look at me. I’m downright flabby.”

  Eyeing her torso, Gunnar couldn’t figure out what the heck she was talking about. She was already dressed for a jog, hot pink compression tights and a black fleece jacket with light-reflecting insets. He’d be hard pressed to find an ounce of extra weight on her. “Yeah, you are kind of pudgy.”


  She threw the dishtowel at his head. “Freaking idiot.”

  Gunnar twisted away from the fabric missile and cupped his hand over Amelia’s tiny ears. “Hey, not in front of the baby!”

  Sam laughed, earning him a half-hearted sneer from Rikki.

  “Well, if my stupid brother would ease his stupid rule about how old a child has to be before I can leave her in the stupid child care area at his stupid gym, my life would be much better. Family should be able to get special perks.”

  Gunnar lifted his eyebrows and stared at his sister. “Use your words, Rik. Tell us what you really think.”

  After a quick glance at the bundle in Gunnar’s arms, Rikki lifted her middle finger at him. Yep, she was tired, hangry, and completely out of patience. A run would do her a world of good.

  Rikki jerked open the drawer and grabbed forks before striding to the table and plunking them down with a loud thud. Amelia whimpered at the sudden noise. Gunnar snuggled her closer, pressing her ear against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat appeared to soothe her, but his action didn’t erase the stricken look on Rikki’s face.

  “Not my rules, Rik. The State of Massachusetts mandates babies must be six weeks of age. You can start leaving her in the kids’ center after next week,” he explained, his tone soft and cajoling. He brightened at a sudden thought. He’d given Rik a running stroller right after Amelia’s birth. “You can run on the track with her in the stroller as long as it isn’t at peak times. In the meantime, I’ll be happy to run with you tonight. I could use the exercise, even if you don’t really look like you need it. You look great, Rikki.”

  She took her daughter from his arms, planted a kiss on her forehead, and indicated a chair at the table. “Thanks, Gun, but you know it’s not nice to lie.”

  Gunnar recalled Mal’s anger at her father for hiding the truth about her mother from her. He’d hated the hurt that he’d heard in her voice when they’d talked at Harriet’s house this morning.

  Sam lowered himself onto the chair across from him. “You’re looking grim tonight,” he said as he helped himself to a slice of sausage and mushroom pizza.

  “I was thinking about Malin Eckert.”

  “Buddy, thoughts of Malin shouldn’t make you glum. She’s hot and nice, both qualities I know you find appealing.”

  “She’s funny and loyal, too. Which is even better.” Gunnar grabbed a slice of cheese and sundried tomato and bit into it. He chewed before he continued. “She wants to be just friends.”

  “And you want more,” Rik said as she took her seat next to him, still holding Amelia.

  “Give the lady points for guessing right on the first try. Trouble is, I’m interested in much more. I can’t seem to convince her I’m the man for her.”

  Rikki patted the baby’s bottom while swaying in her chair. “She going out on a date with Noah.”

  “What? How do you know that?” Unfamiliar emotion clawed in Gunnar’s chest. He didn’t care for the sensation.

  Wiping his fingers on a napkin, Sam said, “She mentioned it to Jem. You know how that works. Once Jem knows something, everyone in the family knows it.” Sam shrugged, his expression... Aw, Jesus, was that sympathy?

  Rikki handed Amelia into Sam’s arms, then reached for a slice of pizza. “Sam forgot to mention that Malin also told Jem she was crushing on you. But you visit her shop frequently to send flowers to other women. I mean with the regularity of Old Faithful. You don’t have what could be called staying power.”

  Heat flushed into Gunnar’s face. Pushing his plate of half-eaten pizza away, he leaned his elbows on the table. He was thirty, not thirteen, and here they were discussing his interest in a girl like they were sitting around a lunchroom table in middle school.

  Rikki tilted her head to the side. “What I want to know, Gun, is when you started having women as friends. That’s brand new in your repertoire.”

  “Since I met her.”

  “Oh, Gunnar.” Sympathy muddied her sparkly brown eyes.

  He threw his napkin onto his plate and huffed out a disgusted breath. “That’s likely to end. I can’t stop thinking about her. Tell Noah to stay away. She’s mine.”

  Rikki snorted. “Like a freaking dog marking his territory? You’re on your own here, Gunnar. No way am I getting in the middle of this.”

  “Hey now, I agreed to run with you. You can’t even offer a little help keeping a mongrel like Noah Kerrigan away?”

  “Watch it, Sims,” Sam growled good-naturedly. “That’s my brother you’re talking about.”

  “Sorry, no offense intended.” Gunnar spread his hands, palms up. “What do I do?”

  Rikki laid her hand on his and squeezed his fingers. The smile on her face held encouragement. “You’re a smart guy. I mean, you worked your magic on me and Sam. Something will come to you.”

  She released his hand then leaned over and captured Sam’s lips before kissing the baby. The picture of blissful happiness warmed Gunnar’s heart. It also made him long for a little for himself. He couldn’t be happier that his sister had found the love of her life. Could he...would he ever have that with Malin?

  Chapter 11

  “You’re kidding, right?” Gaby’s voice was brittle, incredulous. “You’re just going to leave me here by myself? What about dinner? Who’s going to fix me something to eat?”

  A last minute order she’d delivered on her way home because Dad had been a no-show today had caused Mal to run late. She did not need this right now. “I’ll be gone less than two hours. I’m meeting a friend for dinner.” Worry for Dad and frustration with Gaby’s stuck-up entitled ways threatened to boil over. Mal struggled to keep her tone even.

  Gaby’s jaw had dropped, then she slammed her lips together, a perfect imitation of a yardstick, straight and rigid. The girl ducked her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “But... But what about me?”

  Mal shrugged. “What about you? There’s some leftover chicken and dumplings in the fridge. You can heat it up in the microwave when you get hungry.”

  “I don’t know how to work your microwave.”

  “It’s easy. Keep hitting the thirty second button until the food is the temp you want.” Jeez, had Gaby ever worked a microwave before? Mal knew she wasn’t dumb. Maybe Harriet had channeled June Cleaver and had waited on her second family hand and foot.

  “I don’t eat leftovers. Mom made something new for dinner every night.”

  Yep, June freakin’ Cleaver. Mal had learned how to meal plan by watching cooking shows on PBS, Two Fat Ladies Cooking style. She had known about lard and clotted cream before she’d gotten her first period.

  “You can fix a sandwich, then. There is bread and peanut butter in the pantry.”

  Horror and revulsion shivered over Gaby’s face. Mal would have laughed, but that seemed kind of cruel.

  “Why can’t I come with you?”

  “Gaby, this is sort of a date.”

  “I thought you said it was dinner with a friend.” A sly gleam lit Gaby’s blue eyes. “Are you having dinner with that guy from the health club? Is this payback for his help moving my bed?”

  “No, it’s not him.”

  But after that scorching kiss from earlier, Mal was certain she’d be thinking about Gunnar the whole time she was with Noah. Dammit.

  Gaby hadn’t actually said thank you for the monumental effort it had taken for Mal to move the girl’s bed here. Nope, once Mal had picked her up in Boston and dropped her back at the house, Gaby had stalked up the stairs and crashed the door shut. She hadn’t come back down before Mal had to race back to The Secret Garden to lock up for the night.

  “So, you’re dating two guys? Kind of slutty of you, isn’t it?” Snark oozed like slime through the girl’s voice.

  “Kind of judgmental of you, isn’t it?” Mal’s patience with the kid’s teenage superiority had more holes in it than the tulle netting she used in some bridal bouquets. Had she ever behaved like Gaby was at the moment? Probably not. Sh
e doubted it would have made an impression over Dad’s frequently alcohol-fueled state. Jesus, she would have loved to not be the mom, the responsible one. It would have been great if she could have acted like a petulant teenager. Like Gaby. After a fast silent count to ten, she softened her tone. “Besides, you said you have a lot of homework tonight. You can use the quiet time to work on it.”

  “I don’t see why I have to do homework at this school. I’m transferring at the end of the week. It’s not like it really matters.”

  “Grades follow you. My friend, Mr. Kerrigan, said it’s important for you to complete all your assignments. He wants you eligible for the track team.”

  “What if I don’t want to run track? I don’t want to have to compete for a spot on the team.”

  Now the girl was deliberately being ornery. Mal lost the battle to not roll her eyes. “Suit yourself. But you’ll compete for everything all your life, in spite of what Harriet might have told you. Even with a silver spoon in your mouth, you’re going to have to work for the jelly on it. Otherwise, it’s just a tarnished symbol of what you could have achieved.”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “Maybe, but it’s the truth, Gaby.”

  Mal checked her wallet to be sure she had enough cash to cover her meal. She was a millennial chick and paid her own way. Odd, she was sure she’d had three twenties in the bill section. “Did you take money from my wallet today? Lunch money, maybe?”

  Gaby huffed out a breath and frowned. “I don’t need your money. Remember, silver spoon? Trust fund brat? I don’t steal.”

  Just like she didn’t eat leftovers. “I didn’t mean it that way. I just... I’m missing some cash. If you need money, you only need to ask.”

  Gaby grabbed her backpack from the kitchen floor and threw it with a heavy thunk on the table. The zipper rattled harshly as she jerked it around the front pocket. She pulled out her Coach billfold and snagged a fistful of cash, then tossed the paper on the table. Mal lifted her brows as she took in the size of the wad.

  “If you need money, just ask.” Gaby parroted Mal’s word, the girl’s voice vibrating with disgust. She turned and flounced out of the kitchen.