Clementine bolts up from the bench and stares at Jonas with wide eyes. “You have a dog?” Jonas nods and chuckles. Clementine turns her attention in my direction. “Mama, can we meet Spartan sometime?”
One thing you learn about children, especially younger children, is they speak their mind. It isn’t until we grow older—somewhere around puberty—that we learn to taper our reactions and the words we say. Hopefully, I can continue to teach Clementine to voice her thoughts, but just be mindful of how she says things so as not to hurt anyone’s feelings.
“We’ll see, pumpkin.”
Jonas leans closer to me, his breath hot on my ear. “He’s good with kids. Licks my nephew to death.” I hear what he says, but my brain won’t react. Can’t with his lips so close to my skin. As if he senses my debacle, he kisses the soft skin beneath my ear and sits up. “So, Clementine, what’s your favorite part of Christmas?”
I shake my head and snigger. “You asked for it,” I mumble.
Until the buzzer goes off, Clementine prattles on about her favorite parts of Christmas. All with hand gestures and full exaggeration. About her love of decorating trees and hanging the stockings. Squishing her fingers in the sugar cookie dough, licking the extras off the spoon, and frosting them after they cool. But most of all, she loves Christmas movies. The Polar Express and The Nightmare Before Christmas.
Jonas play-argues with her for a bit. Debating whether or not The Nightmare Before Christmas is a Halloween or Christmas movie. Clementine cocks her head as her brows pinch at the middle, settling the debate with a resounding “both.”
As we walk to the table and sit in the booth—Jonas and I on one side, Clementine across from us—I can’t help how normal this feels. How wonderful it all is. How jovial my daughter is in the company of Jonas. More so than I expected. But it warms my heart. Fills me more than I ever thought it could. To have my daughter happy in the company of someone I am growing more and more fond of with each passing day.
How could life possibly get any better? I don’t see how it can.
Twenty
Jonas
Mini-Autumn—aka Clementine—is the cutest little girl I have ever laid eyes on.
Not only is she a spitting image of Autumn—hair, eyes, ensemble—but she has an addictive personality. With her little hands flailing in the air as she tells me about the sparkly snowflakes her class made before the holiday break. And that she has never seen real snow before.
Part of me itched to tell her I would take her and Autumn to see snow one day. But I bit my tongue and listened to all her stories. Tales about her schoolmates—and the one boy who seems sad all the time, but who she makes laugh.
The more she says, the more I fall for Autumn and her mini, Clementine. God, even her name is fucking adorable.
We order pizza—a mini cheese for Clementine, while Autumn and I split a medium; ham and pineapple for Autumn, and supreme on my half. Nothing about sitting in this pizza shop with Autumn and Clementine—surrounded by several other parents and children—feels wrong. If anything, nothing has ever felt so right.
Autumn rests her hand on my thigh and I set mine over hers. I haven’t dated a lot of women. Most were one-night stands. Only there to fulfill a primal need while I pined for another woman. A woman whose heart belonged to someone else. Until Autumn, I didn’t comprehend the connection Cora and Gavin share. Now, I get it.
When Gavin first flew in from Los Angeles to work, he had no clue he would see Cora. Actually, hoped he wouldn’t because of how he left things with Cora. But the moment they saw each other again, it was like they never parted. That’s how bonded they are. When Cora tried to explain it to me, I couldn’t grasp how she still wanted him. How it was possible to be in love with him after so many years apart. After what he had done.
But now, I recognize the bond. Their constant need to be near each other. Because I feel the same thing with Autumn. Clementine is an added bonus. The little girl I never knew or saw coming, but has filled some gap in my heart in less than an hour.
Autumn rests her head on my shoulder and sighs. “How ya holding up?”
I turn and press a kiss to her forehead. “Fantastic. She’s perfect, Autumn. You’ve done so good with her.” She smiles into my neck. “Seriously. She is the cutest thing ever.”
“Cuter than me?”
I chuckle and shake my head. “No. No one will ever be cuter than you.” I kiss her forehead again and note the flush pinking her cheeks. “But since she is a mirror image of you, she takes second place.”
The pizza arrives and we all go quiet as we scarf down our pieces. Clementine starts talking with pizza in her mouth, and I laugh when Autumn corrects her. Citing why it isn’t ladylike to talk with her mouth full of food. Where most kids, including my nephew, would argue, she doesn’t. She simply finishes chewing then picks up where she left off.
When we finish eating, I pay the bill and we head toward the movie theater. But stop short when we see the ticket line a mile long.
“How set are you on watching this movie?” I ask.
Autumn tucks her lips in her mouth a minute then releases them as she squats down in front of Clementine. “Hey, pumpkin. There’s a really long line to get into the movie. Can we do something else instead?”
Clementine glances between the two of us. “Like what?”
“I have an idea,” I say as Autumn stands up. “What about the arcade down near Park?”
“The Fun Center?” Autumn asks and I nod. “That might work. Pumpkin, what if we go to the arcade. We can play all kinds of games and win tickets for prizes.”
Clementine claps rapidly. “Yay! Prizes. Let’s go.” She grabs Autumn’s hand and starts dragging her toward the parking lot. But Autumn digs her heels in.
“Hold on a minute, pumpkin.” Autumn spins to face me. “Want to ride together?”
I shake my head. “Nah. I’d rather not leave my bike here. It’s okay, we can meet there. Only five or so minutes up the road. Let me walk you to the car.”
We all walk hand in hand back to Autumn’s car. After Clementine gets in and her door is shut, I walk around to the driver’s side with Autumn. Before she gets in, I draw her in close and kiss her. Deeper and slower than the kiss we shared earlier. She tastes sweet and salty and something distinctly Autumn. When she fists my jacket lapels and moans into my mouth, I reluctantly break the kiss.
“We’re like horny teenagers,” I say against her lips.
She giggles. “I really like kissing you. Will that be an issue?”
“Nope. Not at all.”
“Good.” She inches back. “We should get going if we want to get there before closing time.”
“See you in a few.” I kiss her again before jogging over to my bike.
I spark up the bike and put my helmet on. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Autumn back out of the space and drive away. Rolling the bike back, I fall in line behind her. We roll down the street and a sense of serenity fills me.
I may not be in the car with her, but I have never felt closer to her.
And Clementine… she is a hoot. I was so nervous to meet this little girl. God, I don’t ever remember being that nervous before. Where I was completely riddled with anxiety. Meeting Clementine felt more powerful than meeting parents. That little girl’s approval could have possibly made or broken our relationship.
But from how everything went over dinner, I am positive Clementine approves of me and my relationship with Autumn. That little girl’s approval means the world—not just to me, but also Autumn.
We pull into the parking lot at the Fun Center and I park the bike next to Autumn’s car. When Clementine gets out of the car, she runs up to me and spreads her arms wide.
“You have a motorcycle?” she asks with wide eyes. “That’s so cool!”
I laugh and squat down in front of her. “Maybe one day, you can sit on it with me.” Autumn stares at me wide-eyed and mouth agape. “But only if it’s okay with your mom.” I stand
back up and lean into Autumn, whispering so only she can hear. “The bike would be parked. No actual riding until adulthood.”
“Thank god. I was freaking out for a minute there.”
I want to tell her it was written all over her face, but I don’t. “No need to panic.” I kiss her temple. “Believe it or not, I know better.”
She hums. “But I still want to ride on your bike.”
In an instant, I picture Autumn snug behind me on the seat, her legs clamped around mine. Her arms wrapped around my waist. Hands under my shirt and grazing my abdomen. The trail of fire her touch would leave on my skin.
Fuck, I need to stop thinking about that right now. Focus, Thompson.
“Let’s head inside and play some games. Clementine, have you played arcade games before?”
She shakes her little head. “Nope, just the games on Mama’s phone. But not a lot.”
“Well, you’re in for a treat. Because arcade games are way more fun than games on the phone. Plus, you get tickets when you play. Then you turn in your tickets for a prize.”
“What kind of prizes are there?”
We walk through the front door, music blares around us as kids run left and right to different games. Heading over to the check-in counter, I swap out twenty dollars for tokens. The girl behind the counter hands us each a small cup to carry our tokens and tickets in.
After we step back and organize our tokens, I show Clementine the various display cases and huge wall with prizes pinned to them. Anything from plastic vampire teeth to nail stickers to stuffed animals and everything in between. She oohs and awes over each item she sees.
She points to a small makeup set. “I want to win that.”
“Okay, well let’s go find what game we want to play so we can earn tickets.”
Clementine bounces in place on her toes. “Let’s do this,” she announces and Autumn and I both laugh.
For the next hour, we play various video games, but Pac-Man seems to be her favorite. Autumn and I try our hand at Skee-Ball and the basketball game. Both of us trying to find easy games for us to win as many tickets as possible.
When we tally up all of our tickets, we don’t have enough for Clementine to get the makeup kit—which Autumn doesn’t seem too upset over. But Autumn and I both still have tokens. So, we pass our tokens on to Clementine and follow her around as she tries different games.
By the time all the tokens run out, we have hundreds of tickets. I walk us over to the ticket feeder to redeem them in for a receipt. Clementine laughs when she feeds the long strip of tickets into the machine and it sounds as if it’s chomping them up. Like a monster lives inside the ticket machine.
With her tickets, she chooses a stuffed animal. A rainbow unicorn with shimmering hair. She hugs it close to her chest and it warms my heart.
As we stroll out to Autumn’s car and my bike, Clementine stops us in our tracks. “Mama, can we meet Mr. Jonas’s doggy tonight?”
I smile, but keep my eyes straight ahead. Kids are the cutest creatures in the world. They say whatever pops in their head. Whether it be wanting to meet a dog or if they don’t like someone’s clothes or talking about body parts. They literally have no filter and I love it. I wish that little piece of humanity existed among all ages. But somewhere along the line, we are taught certain things are inappropriate to say in front of other people. Although, once you find your circle of people, that filter slips away.
“Not tonight, pumpkin. But I’m sure we can meet Jonas’s doggy soon.”
“Really?” she asks, hopeful.
“Promise, pumpkin.”
We reach the car and Autumn unlocks it and starts it. I squat down in front of Clementine. “It was really nice to meet you, Miss Clementine. See you again soon.”
She wraps her little arms around my neck and squeezes me as if I might run away. Never, I think to myself. “‘Night, Mr. Jonas.” I want to kiss her head, but don’t. It’s too soon.
Clementine hops in the car and slides over to her seat, buckling her seat belt without being asked.
“Thank you for tonight,” Autumn says. “I had a really nice time.”
“Me too.” I step into her, rest my hands on her hips, and bring her flush to me. “Can’t wait to see you again.”
“Soon,” she whispers a breath from my lips.
I close the space between us and press my lips to hers. Warm and sweet and inviting. She instantly opens up for me, and I brush my tongue against hers. When she moans against my mouth, I deepen the kiss. I could kiss her for hours and not tire from it.
Her lips on mine intoxicates me. Makes me drunker than her cognac eyes. The more I kiss her, the harder I fall. Fall for this astonishing woman. A woman I never saw coming. A woman I don’t want a day without.
We kiss in the parking lot, against the side of her car, as if no one else exists. I frame her face in my palms. Draw her into me. Press my hips to her belly. Her hands slip beneath my jacket. Under my shirt. Graze the skin just above the waistband of my jeans.
I hiss and break the kiss. My lips still hovering a fraction above hers. “Autumn…” Her name a plea. A prayer. An urge for more. But I know there is nothing more we can do right now. Not in the middle of a parking lot, out in the open, with Clementine less than five feet from where we stand.
“Jonas,” she moans. My name painful, but not in a bad way. More like she wants me just as badly as I want her, but knows this moment won’t go much further than where it is now.
I lean my forehead against hers and breathe in her cherry vanilla scent. It inebriates and soothes me in equal measure. Settles every anxiety or fear I have experienced. Soothes me more than any other person ever has.
No doubt about it, Autumn is my balm. The remedy to any ailment I possess. As if made for me.
“Much as I want to stand in this parking lot all night and kiss the hell out of you, we should probably leave.”
God, I don’t want to let go of her. Don’t want to stop kissing her. Or stop touching her. More than anything, I don’t want her to stop touching me. Her fingertips on my skin elicits the most exhilarating sensation. Leaving a trail of sparks wherever she touches. Embers burning in their wake.
“Probably. But I don’t want to,” she confesses. “I wish I could invite you back to my place.”
Me too. But even if Autumn offered for me to join her, I would be the gentleman. I would tell her it’s too soon. All good things come to those who wait. At least that is what everyone says.
So why does that old adage feel like a line of crap right now?
All I want is to hold her in my arms all night. Sex would be great, but neither of us is ready for sex yet. Not mentally or emotionally, anyway.
“Yeah. But not tonight. Baby steps. Tonight was a big leap. For all of us. Let’s ease into the rest of it. We have time.”
She nods. “Lots of time.” And I love the way the words leave her lips. Like more than a promise. A commitment.
I pocket her commitment and seal it away for safekeeping. Hold it close to my heart. Let it warm my bones.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly inch away from her. Give us both room to breathe. To cool off in the chilled winter air.
I open her door for her, peek my head inside, and look over at a singing Clementine. “‘Night, Miss Clementine. Be good for your mom.”
She waves at me. “‘Night. I will.” She draws an X over her heart. “Promise.”
Autumn slides into her car, but doesn’t shut the door immediately. I lean down and kiss her innocently. With Clementine’s eyes on us both, I won’t do more. A sense of inappropriateness washes over me like a cold shower.
“Night, Autumn. Text me when you get home so I know you made it okay.”
The corner of her mouth kicks up. “I will. ‘Night.”
Reluctantly, I step back and close her door, tapping the roof. I walk over and straddle my bike, watching as she backs out. Clementine waves and I return the gesture with a smile.
As soo
n as they disappear from sight, I stare up at the night sky and smile at the brightly lit dark backdrop. Tonight, more stars appear in the skyline. Each moment with Autumn seems to add another star. Hopefully one day, the night sky will glow so bright, I won’t need additional light.
The entire ride home goes by in a blur. A slideshow of memories of the evening. Memories I will never forget. And what I pray is the start of a million more memories. After I park the bike in the garage, I step into the house and tell Spartan all about Clementine. The little girl who will win his heart faster than she won mine.
Twenty-One
Autumn
The past two weeks has been nothing short of bliss.
Jonas and I have seen each other several nights a week. Dinner at his house or my apartment. Although, Clementine prefers going to Jonas’s. The second she laid eyes on Spartan; my daughter forgot I existed.
I didn’t take offense to it. In fact, I found it downright adorable how the two of them hung out together. Clementine would hug or pet him. Talk with him—because yes, Spartan barked back when you spoke to him. They were like a dynamic duo.
Each time we had dinner at Jonas’s house and had to leave, Clementine wrapped her small arms around Spartan and hugged him tight. Kissed his head and wished him a good night. Adorable didn’t even begin to cover how they interacted together.
When dinner happens at the apartment, Clementine asks if Jonas will bring Spartan along. Bless his heart, he always finds a valid excuse as to why he can’t come along. Tired. Grumpy. Had a bad day. As the list grows, it makes me laugh harder.
On a few occasions, Penny joined us for dinner. But for the most part, she goes and hangs with friends or chills in her room.
I told her it was cool if she hung with us, but she laughed it off and said, “It’s pretty much a date, Auti. I will not be a third wheel.” She makes a valid statement.
A couple nights ago, we watched a movie after dinner. Our nights together have been some of the best moments of my adult life, but they were also a strain. The more Jonas and I see each other, the less time I spent at the shop, and the more I considered it wise to shift my work schedule. Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. It works better with Clementine’s school schedule. Now, I work fewer hours in the evening and she spends less time with a sitter. It’s a win win. More time with Clementine and Jonas.
Fine Line (Inked Duet #1) Page 16
