Read Online Kids Is A 4-Letter Word by Stephanie Bond - Free Book Online
Authors: Stephanie Bond
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John looked at her, and Jo saw distant pain in his eyes. He must have seen the question in hers, because he said quietly, “My wife was killed in a car accident two years ago.”
Jo analyzed his voice for longing, for desperation, but heard only acceptance. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her heart constricting. In the seconds that passed in silence, she felt as if they had taken a giant step toward…something. The sensation left her head spinning with possibilities.
He nodded wordlessly, then walked across the den, through a set of French doors and into a study. This room was almost fully furnished, and Jo nodded in approval at the clean lines of the heavy desk, chair and armoire. “I could use a couple more pieces in here, too,” John noted. “Maybe a chair or two, and a table—whatever you think.”
A sliding door revealed a wet bar, with another sliding door beyond leading to the formal living room, also vacant. Another set of French doors took them back into the entryway. John placed his hand on the banister and waited for Jo to join him before he began to climb the curving stairway to the second floor.
“I’m open to whatever ideas you have,” John explained. “I don’t have the time or the patience to coordinate the decorating myself, I just want the house to be comfortable for the kids.”
They took a familiar left at the top of the stairs. The first room on the left was a guest room, empty and expansive. This room shared the large bathroom that led into the boys’ room. If possible, their room was even more of a wreck than it had been the previous day. John shrugged his apologies. “I want new furniture in here, and as you can see, the sturdier, the better.”
Claire’s room was opposite the boys’ room. Jo decided changes were necessary at the first glimpse of the dark-wood twin bed and matching dresser. Everything was in its place, painfully neat. “New furniture in here, too,” he said, his face softening. “Something pretty for my little girl.”
As they walked past the staircase to the other side of the house, Jo’s heart began to pound. He was obviously taking her to the master-bedroom suite. He stopped at a closed door, his hand on the knob. “This is my room,” he said, then pushed open the door.
The room was gorgeous, flanked by a deep bay window on the short end of the room, and another one on the adjacent wall. An elaborate trey ceiling contained two skylights. The pale carpet was thick and plush. Absurdly, the first questionthat entered Jo’s mind was whether the large copper-colored wrought-iron bed was the one he’d shared with Annie. The worn comforter had been yanked up over the sheets hurriedly, the pillows were still squashed at odd angles. “Your bed looks new,” she said before thinking. Then, to hide her burning cheeks, she bent her head to scribble furiously on the pad of paper she carried.
“It is new,” he confirmed. “But, as you can see, I need new bed linens, curtains, everything. The only other furniture was a straight-back chair with a towel hanging over it, and a wooden dresser with wrought accents to match the bed. “A comfy chair would be great,” he continued. “Along with a new mattress.”
Jo chanced a glance at John’s face and found him studying her. “A new mattress?” she parroted.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “My back hurts when I get up. I think the mattress is too hard.”
Jo swallowed and willed herself not to lick her trembling lips. “So you’d like something softer?”
He stood unmoving, his gaze locked with hers. “Something softer in my bed would be a definite improvement.”
“Dad.” Claire’s voice startled Jo. She hadn’t seen her walk into the room.
John obviously hadn’t, either. He stood up straight. “What is it, honey?”
She frowned slightly, her eyes glancing back and forth from Jo to her father. “You’re going to be late for work.”
He turned his
Jo analyzed his voice for longing, for desperation, but heard only acceptance. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her heart constricting. In the seconds that passed in silence, she felt as if they had taken a giant step toward…something. The sensation left her head spinning with possibilities.
He nodded wordlessly, then walked across the den, through a set of French doors and into a study. This room was almost fully furnished, and Jo nodded in approval at the clean lines of the heavy desk, chair and armoire. “I could use a couple more pieces in here, too,” John noted. “Maybe a chair or two, and a table—whatever you think.”
A sliding door revealed a wet bar, with another sliding door beyond leading to the formal living room, also vacant. Another set of French doors took them back into the entryway. John placed his hand on the banister and waited for Jo to join him before he began to climb the curving stairway to the second floor.
“I’m open to whatever ideas you have,” John explained. “I don’t have the time or the patience to coordinate the decorating myself, I just want the house to be comfortable for the kids.”
They took a familiar left at the top of the stairs. The first room on the left was a guest room, empty and expansive. This room shared the large bathroom that led into the boys’ room. If possible, their room was even more of a wreck than it had been the previous day. John shrugged his apologies. “I want new furniture in here, and as you can see, the sturdier, the better.”
Claire’s room was opposite the boys’ room. Jo decided changes were necessary at the first glimpse of the dark-wood twin bed and matching dresser. Everything was in its place, painfully neat. “New furniture in here, too,” he said, his face softening. “Something pretty for my little girl.”
As they walked past the staircase to the other side of the house, Jo’s heart began to pound. He was obviously taking her to the master-bedroom suite. He stopped at a closed door, his hand on the knob. “This is my room,” he said, then pushed open the door.
The room was gorgeous, flanked by a deep bay window on the short end of the room, and another one on the adjacent wall. An elaborate trey ceiling contained two skylights. The pale carpet was thick and plush. Absurdly, the first questionthat entered Jo’s mind was whether the large copper-colored wrought-iron bed was the one he’d shared with Annie. The worn comforter had been yanked up over the sheets hurriedly, the pillows were still squashed at odd angles. “Your bed looks new,” she said before thinking. Then, to hide her burning cheeks, she bent her head to scribble furiously on the pad of paper she carried.
“It is new,” he confirmed. “But, as you can see, I need new bed linens, curtains, everything. The only other furniture was a straight-back chair with a towel hanging over it, and a wooden dresser with wrought accents to match the bed. “A comfy chair would be great,” he continued. “Along with a new mattress.”
Jo chanced a glance at John’s face and found him studying her. “A new mattress?” she parroted.
“Yeah,” he said slowly, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “My back hurts when I get up. I think the mattress is too hard.”
Jo swallowed and willed herself not to lick her trembling lips. “So you’d like something softer?”
He stood unmoving, his gaze locked with hers. “Something softer in my bed would be a definite improvement.”
“Dad.” Claire’s voice startled Jo. She hadn’t seen her walk into the room.
John obviously hadn’t, either. He stood up straight. “What is it, honey?”
She frowned slightly, her eyes glancing back and forth from Jo to her father. “You’re going to be late for work.”
He turned his
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