by LK Farlow
He stares at me intently before diving for my lips. For a moment, I don’t move, and I don’t reciprocate his kiss. I’m frozen, possibly in shock. Because Colton Banks is kissing me. Oh my glob! Colton is kissing me!
My rational thought kicks back in, and I move my hands to his chest to shove him away, to ask him what on earth possessed him to kiss me, when he’s made it abundantly clear he’s not into me like that. However, it seems my libido has hijacked my brain, because instead, I find myself wrapping my fingers around his tie and pulling him closer.
Taking this as an invitation to deepen our kiss, he flicks his tongue across the seam of my lips, demanding entry. My own lips part on a moan, and Colton licks into my mouth, intent on devouring me.
My free hand finds its way into the hair at the nape of his neck. And somehow, I’m straddling his lap, with his strong, warm palms gripping my ass as he grinds himself into me. This kiss—our first kiss—may as well be an out of body experience, because my consciousness is merely a passenger on this lust-fueled ride.
By the time we break apart, we’re both panting, and my panties are so wet I wouldn’t be surprised to see a damp spot on the crotch of his pants.
“Fuck!” Colton all but shoves me from his lap. “Fuck!”
With my body mourning the loss of his and my head swirling from his sudden rejection, confusion covers me like a heavy blanket. “What—what was that?”
His face is screwed up in an impassively blank mask that gives nothing away. He stands from the couch and straightens his tie. “A mistake.”
My eyes water and my jaw nearly comes unhinged as it hangs open in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“Kissing you was a mistake.” He runs his hands through his messy hair. “My apologies.”
“Are you seriously fucking apologizing for kissing me?” I ball my hands into tight fists to keep from slapping him.
“I’m just not interested in you that way.”
I snort derisively as I gesture toward his tented slacks. “Your dick says differently.”
He swallows roughly. “Any red-blooded man would get hard with a firm ass rubbing all over his lap. Trust me, it has nothing to do with you.”
Rage courses through me as I take in the man before me. The man I know I’m destined for. The man I thought was my friend. “You have some nerve!” I shove at his broad chest.
It’s like hitting a mountain made of muscle and flesh and bone.
“You don’t understand,” he grits out.
“Then explain it. Make me understand why you run so damn hot and cold. Why you kiss me like that then tell me I’m just a warm body!”
“Argh! You make me fucking crazy!” His voice is a quiet roar.
“Welcome to the club! You’re not exactly Mr. Sunshine!”
“I’m a realist, Ashley, and in no way do we work in the real world.” He runs his eyes over my body in a way that has my shoulders bunching and my belly churning.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He rolls his eyes, and I swear my ovaries flutter. Stupid, traitorous reproductive system. I don’t care how damn good he looks with his sex hair and kiss-swollen lips in his rumpled suit—he’s still a jackass, with the manners of a caveman and the attitude of a toddler.
“What it means,” he sneers, “is you’re you…and I’m me. We’re simply not compatible, Ashley.”
My soulmate just told me we aren’t compatible. Just going to file that sickening feeling away in a folder labeled: Things that hurt worse than dropping a bowling ball on your foot.
“Great. Wonderful.” I throw my arms up in the air. “Just gonna give you a bit of advice, okay? In the future, when a woman is interested in you, and you don’t feel the same, maybe don’t fucking kiss her, okay? Because, newsflash, asshole—it’s not very nice to play with people’s emotions! In fact, it’s downright rotten.”
A look of hurt crosses his face, but is gone in an instant. “It won’t happen again.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.” Colton looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. And maybe I have, but…
“You asked me to stay in case you needed help with Cruz. I’m here for him. Once he’s up, I’ll be on my way. I know my place now.”
“Ashley—”
I ignore the sorrowful lilt to his voice. “Come Monday, you can send the cease and desist to Megan Grace and shoot me an invoice via email.”
17
Colton
Regret and longing weigh me down as I turn and stalk down the hall toward my room. For a few glorious moments, I had my hands and mouth all over Ashley. Even now, the taste of her kiss lingers, the sweet flavor of her tempting me to turn back and beg for another taste.
But I don’t—I can’t. Starting anything with her while she’s my client is highly unethical, regardless of how good her lean, lithe body feels beneath my palms.
I pause at the threshold to my room. “Blanket’s in the hall closet,” I call over my shoulder before pulling the door shut behind me.
I pace and prowl in the open space at the foot of my bed, far too wound up to go to sleep. How is it possible for my life to change so drastically in the span of a single day—for me to go from an untethered bachelor with no plans of settling down anytime soon to a single dad planning park dates while lusting after the only person his son will speak to?
It’s like I woke up in an alternate universe and I’m trapped here, with no way home in sight. That’s the only possible explanation for how Ashley Murphy has managed to work herself so far beneath my skin that she’s in my blood, occupying far too many of my thoughts as she races steadily from my heart to my brain then back again.
After nearly wearing a trail in my plush rug, I give up my pacing in favor of counting sheep. I only make it to fifty before sleep claims me. And no surprise, all my dreams are of her.
It’s still dark when my alarm clock beeps me awake. The temptation to hit snooze is strong, but I want to be up before Cruz. Not to mention, I slept for shit anyway, thanks to a certain lavender-haired beauty plaguing my dreams—a menace even in slumber.
I make quick work of my morning routine, starting with a series of stretches—double reps to make up for missing them yesterday—to get my blood flowing, before hopping in the shower and dressing for the day.
Venturing into the hall, I expect stillness and silence. Imagine my surprise when I find Ashley and Cruz hard at work making… “Are those pancakes?”
Ashley nods. “Coffee’s brewed.”
I linger on the fringe of the open space, watching her as she methodically cranks out pancake after pancake. To the untrained eye, her softly spoken words, delivered with a pleasant smile, give an unaffected appearance, like last night never happened. But the slight tremor in her hands and the tightness in her eyes gives her away. She’s still upset with me—not that I blame her.
Kissing her was bad form on my part; and yet, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I shuffle past them toward the coffee pot, wondering why they’re up before the sun and in my kitchen churning out pancakes like a diner kitchen on a Sunday morning.
“Blueberries, bananas, or chocolate chips?” she asks without ever looking my way.
Cruz’s eyes ping-pong between us. My quiet guy can sense the tension, and I’m desperate to put him at ease. “What do you recommend, bud?”
A small but genuine smile lights up his face as he points to the bananas, and then to the chocolate chips.
“Both, huh?”
He nods, bobblehead style.
“Sounds good.” I take a sip of my steaming coffee. “Load me up.”
A barely perceptible nod is the only indication Ashley heard me.
“Can I help with anything?” I’m desperate to regain the ground we covered, for us to be friends—even if the thoughts I have about her are more than friendly.
It’s not just her connection with Cruz that has me scrambling to smooth things over, either. In
all truth, the idea of us reverting back to enemies makes me feel a little ill.
“We got it.” She softens her terse reply by bumping her shoulder against Cruz’s, sending a toothy smile his way.
“Right. Okay, then. I guess I’ll—”
“Just do whatever you’d usually do on a Saturday morning.”
While Ashley’s dismissal stings, I know it’s deserved—Lord knows I’ve dismissed her too many times to count now.
I settle down at the island and fire up my laptop, starting with my emails before moving on to some brain games. In what feels like no time at all, Ashley is telling me the food is ready.
We eat in the dining room instead of at the island, with Ashley and Cruz on one side of the table and me on the other. “What’s the plan for today?” she asks around a bite of pancake.
I’m shocked she’s sticking around to help after the way things ended last night. It speaks a lot to her character, which I am realizing more and more I sorely misjudged.
“We need to set up a bedroom for him, and he needs more clothes and toys. Thank God it’s summer, so I have time to figure out school, but maybe some books.” I look to my son and ask, “Do you like reading?”
He nods.
“So yeah, we pretty much need it all. I know a social worker is going to do a home study, and I want to make it abundantly clear that my son is safe here.” And nurtured and loved and wanted—so very fucking wanted.
It’s crazy how the universe works; if you’d have asked me two days ago if I ever wanted kids, I’d have told you no. And now, after meeting my son, the answer is emphatically yes. Obviously, fatherhood—single, at that—is a huge undertaking. But this kid, he’s special. To an outsider, it probably seems like I’m taking this earth-shattering change a little too well, but bullshit aside, Cruz feels like my missing piece come home.
“Okay,” Ashley says slowly. “It’s a lot, but we can do it. After I clean up the kitchen—”
“There’s no way you’re cleaning after cooking two incredible meals for us. Cruz and I can handle clean up.”
She rolls her pretty green eyes and continues. “I need to run home and shower and get changed. I can meet y’all after?”
“Sounds good.” We agree to meet at a big box furniture store in two hours to start our day of shopping.
18
Ashley
I’d like to say I slept well last night and that thoughts of a certain cocky, blond lawyer didn’t keep me awake.
But I’d be lying.
I tossed and turned all night long on his plush Italian leather sofa, my brain and my body battling it out while my heart sat on the sideline, sulking over his umpteenth rejection.
On one hand, I’m hard up, and from our small make-out session, my body is begging for release.
On the other, my brain is outraged, stomping and shouting, wondering why my stupid heart and body continuously allow him to best us again and again, all the while coming back and begging for more, like an orphan with a tin cup. “Please Mr. Banks, can you reject me some more?”
Luckily, my shower head helped with the release issue—well, it took the edge off, at least. I have a feeling the only thing that’ll fully satiate my need for him is…well…him.
In desperate need of clarity, I FaceTime Mallory. After a few rings, her smiling, radiant face fills my screen. “Ash! How are you?”
“Eh. Kind of in the middle?” I shrug. “How are thou, fair maiden?”
She rolls her eyes. “Little weirdo. I’m great. Why are you in the middle?”
I inhale deeply, breathing out Colton’s name with my exhale.
“Did your meeting with hot lawyer not go well?”
“It went okay.”
“Ashley. Either spill the beans or—”
“Okay, okay! I met his son yesterday.” I quickly fill my bestie in on everything that’s transpired since we spoke yesterday.
“Well,” Mally says before licking her lips and swallowing. “That’s a lot to take in.”
“Yup.”
“What are you gonna do?”
I hesitate, knowing she is going to give me shit for my answer. “Anything I can. That little boy needs someone on his side—not that Colton isn’t, because he so is. For someone usually cold, he looks at the kid with so much love in his eyes, I get secondhand feels from it. But Cruz is…there’s a reason he won’t talk to anyone, and the fact that he’s gifted me with his voice…I will do anything to make sure he never feels abandoned again.”
“I swear, you have more heart than common sense. You realize that by sticking around to help out, you’re gonna end up falling for him and ending up with a broken heart, right?”
“About that…” I hedge, knowing she really won’t like this.
“Ashley Louise Murphy.”
“He-is-my-soulmate!” I rush the words out in seamless garble.
My bestie buries her face in her hands. “Oh, Ash.”
Her sympathetic tone pickles. “Look, I know you think I’m a nut. But I feel it—all the way down to the marrow of my bones—he’s my soulmate. We’re meant to be together; it’s just taking him a little more time to see it.”
She offers me a sad smile. “Okay, Ash. If you say so.”
“I do,” I say, nodding vehemently. I stand firm in my beliefs, regardless of the opinions of others, even those of my best friend. She doesn’t know what it was like when I first laid eyes on him. She didn’t experience the full-body tingle, belly flutters, or racing heart I did. She didn’t look at him and see home, but I did. One look at Colton Banks was all it took for me to fall, and I know sooner or later—though probably much later—he’ll come around. And until then, I’m content to wait.
What I’m not going to do is be his doormat. His client, sure. His friend, you betcha. His go-between with Cruz, all day long. But a silly little girl with hearts in her eyes for him to string along—never again.
“Okay, then. Just…be careful.”
I know she’s coming from a good place—that she cares about me and seeing me hurt makes her hurt, so I paint on a smile I don’t really feel and promise her I’ll guard my heart while I wait before ending our chat and getting dressed.
I go for comfort—leggings and a concert tee—before rushing out the door to meet my boys.
An hour later, we’ve selected furniture for Cruz’s room—a queen-sized distressed metal frame and some weathered wood nightstands with a matching bookcase and dresser. With the big stuff behind us, we’re free to move onto bedding and décor. I’m hoping his choices will tell us a little more about him.
“Do you see anything you like?” I ask as Cruz and I peruse the aisles, walking hand-in-hand while Colton trails dutifully behind us on buggy duty.
“I like the water ones.”
“These?” I show him a sheet set covered in whales and sharks and palm trees.
He nods eagerly, reaching out toward the sheets with grabby hands.
“Perfect.” I quickly hunt down the matching quilt as well as a few toss pillows and curtains, adding them all to the cart. “Do you like the beach?”
Cruz’s eyes drop to his scuffed-up tennis shoes. “I don’t know. I-I might?”
“Have you ever been?” Colton asks.
He shakes his head.
“You wanna?” I ask, mentally checking items off our list.
“Yeah.” A few minutes later, I feel a tug on the hem of my shirt. “Can I get this?” Cruz whispers, clutching a stuffed octopus to his chest.
Not wanting to overstep, I look to Colton. “Of course, bud. You can get anything you want. Today is all about you.”
His blue eyes light with wonder. “Anything?” he asks, aloud, shocking us both. That one word—it’s the very first he’s spoken directly to Colton, and judging by the glassy look in his eyes and tremble of his chin, it didn’t go unnoticed by him.
“Anything.”
Even after being given the green light to go buck wild, Cruz only picks out a few nau
tical-themed knickknacks to decorate his new room. His reluctance breaks my heart a little, because most kids would go hog-wild.
Once we hunt down a table lamp, an area rug, and a plush navy-blue chair, we head to check out and then to lunch.
Several hot dogs and milkshakes later, we’re hitting up my favorite place on earth—Target.
“Do you want to take Cruz to look in the Dollar Spot, and I’ll grab us some coffees?” Colton asks as we enter the hallowed doors.
“You mean Bullseye’s Playground?” Poor clueless Colton, he doesn’t know it, but he just pressed one of my hot buttons.
He cocks his head to the side. “Does it matter?”
“Uh, yeah, Colton. It does. The name Dollar Spot implies the items within it cost a dollar. Which is inaccurate. Some items are as high as ten dollars. I figured, as a lawyer, you’d at least appreciate transparency.”
“Okay, then, would you like to take Cruz to Bullseye’s Playground?” He emphasizes the words, making it clear he is only using the term to placate me—the asshole.
“Great. You can grab me a violet drink and”—I turn to Cruz—“do you want anything?”
He crinkles his nose. “No coffee.”
“They have more than coffee, silly boy. Do you trust me to pick something for you?” I know asking him to trust me is a lot, but I’m hopeful all the same.
After a pregnant pause, he nods.
“Cruz will take a white chocolate crème Frappuccino.”
Colton nods, sauntering over to Starbucks while Cruz and I peruse all of the little random happies lining the shelves before us. I squeal excitedly when I see two crab-shaped baskets.
Taking Cruz’s grin as his seal of approval, I toss the baskets into our buggy. I also manage to snag a few random things for myself before Colton returns with our beverages.
Colton and I watch as Cruz tastes his drink. “Milkshake,” he murmurs to himself before greedily slurping more down.
