“My parents are happily married,” she said. “They just weren’t around much. They were always traveling for their careers, which meant I was raised by nannies. No kid should live like that.” She shrugged. “You said Logan isn’t even aware that he’s your son. Why tell him now? From the looks of it, his mother’s doing a great job raising him. How do you know he’s not better off without you—especially given your career?”
The thing was, I had no idea if he was better off not knowing that I was his father. But I did know that he wanted me to be his dad. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so excited about the idea when he caught me kissing Callie.
“Are we practicing or what?” Kirk called out. The four guys and Logan were watching us, bored with waiting for Tiffany and me to finish our conversation.
“Sorry,” I called out. “I’m ready.”
“Can I stay and watch?” she asked.
“Sure. You can sit with Logan.” I gave the apple juice box to Logan and introduced her to him, then removed his auditory processor from under his hair.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Logan is deaf,” I said and signed. “This”—I pointed to the device in my hand—“helps him hear.” Yes, I signed that too.
“But don’t think for a second it means you can say ‘fuck’ around him,” Mason said as he fished a dollar from his wallet. He handed it to Logan and winked at him.
Logan grinned, but at least this time he didn’t repeat the word . . . which he had recently learned to lip-read. Mason owed me big-time for that new skill.
“I thought you said he can’t hear,” Tiffany said.
“He can’t. But he can feel the vibrations when we play the music.” I grabbed my guitar and signaled to Mason to start our first song.
The band had been practicing for two hours when we finally took a quick break. Before I had a chance to see how Logan was doing, Tiffany sashayed up to me like she was on a catwalk. She swooped in so fast to kiss me, I didn’t see it coming until it was too late.
“I’ll see you soon, love,” she said, then quickly left before I had time to react. But what I did see was Logan looking at me, frowning. Shit. Between Callie, Tiffany, and the girl at Disneyland, he must be confused about why so many women were kissing me. And he didn’t even know the half of it. How the heck did I explain this to him?
I turned around in time to catch Aaron and Kirk each hand Mason twenty dollars. Mason appeared smug behind his drums.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“The losers bet me that you wouldn’t get back together with that fine piece of ass. I, on the other hand, knew you couldn’t resist it. No one can.”
I glared at them. “You seriously bet on my dating life?” And with Mason of all people. They should’ve known better, given his past gambling addiction.
“What else do you expect us to do for fun?” Aaron said, chuckling.
Any other time I would have flipped them the bird, but the last thing I needed was for Logan to learn that gesture. I could guarantee it wouldn’t have impressed anyone at his school. Nor would it have scored me any points with Callie.
“You can give Aaron and Kirk back their money,” I told Mason. “Tiffany and I aren’t dating.”
Mason laughed. “Sure. Whatever you say.” He didn’t give back the money. Instead, he flashed them a look that said it all: You just wait. Jared will be fucking her in no time.
29
Callie
Before Jared and I had taken our “relationship” to the next level, sitting next to him on my couch to watch a movie had been hard enough. Now it was doubly so with Logan sitting between us. No touching or kissing of Jared was allowed. I just had to channel my inner nun.
Too bad I was as close to being Catholic as I was to being a mermaid.
I glanced at the wall clock. Ten more minutes before Logan’s bedtime. And then what? When I’d woken up this morning, I rather rudely discovered that the wonderful dream, in which Jared realized he loved me and always had, was nothing more than a delusion. In reality, he hadn’t been able to get away fast enough during the night.
He had surprised me, though, when I returned home to discover that he and Logan had cooked dinner. I’m not talking macaroni and cheese or frozen pizza. They had cooked fettuccine Alfredo, with chicken and vegetables tossed in.
My foot bounced, counting down the seconds until the movie ended. Three. Two. One. I jumped up off the couch. “Bedtime,” I said rather hurriedly as the closing credits came on.
The corner of Jared’s mouth tugged up into his sexy smirk.
After we got Logan to bed following what had become our new routine, with Jared reading Logan a bedtime story or three, we stepped into the hallway and I partially closed the bedroom door. We didn’t move beyond that, staring at each other, uncertain what to do next.
Jared was the one who made the first move. One second he was staring at me; the next his lips were against mine. I didn’t hesitate to open my mouth and let him in. I’d been dreaming about his kisses for the past few years—and there might’ve been some fantasizing while at work earlier that day. I wasn’t about to waste time with chaste kisses.
My fingers knotted in his hair and I tugged the soft strands.
“Oh God, Callie,” he moaned against my mouth. I took it as a good sign that he was rooting for an encore of last night.
My brain demanded that we waited until Logan fell asleep. My body outvoted it. But at least we waited until we were in my bedroom before the clothes came flying off.
The kisses suddenly went from hungry to languid. Jared wrapped his arms around me, and we swayed to the song playing in his head. His hard, thick length pressed against my stomach, leaving my girlie parts begging to get reacquainted.
But while they might’ve been in a rush for that to happen, Jared apparently wasn’t. He traced his fingers up and down my back, an explorer on a mission. Then they changed their movements, and instead of exploring my body, I was a musical instrument and he was playing me.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Creating a song.”
“I don’t know how it sounds, but it feels good.”
The answering grin knocked my breath away.
He led me to the bed and I lay down. We continued kissing, focused on nothing but each other. Our hands continued exploring and teasing, bringing each other to the edge, but never letting it go beyond that. Not yet, anyway.
Jared’s fingers eventually slipped through my slick folds. “God, you’re so wet.”
I started to respond at the same time his ultra-talented fingers found my clit and circled it. Once. Twice. The words I thirsted to say came out as a moan. That was okay. It pretty much summed up what I wanted to say anyway.
He broke away from my lips long enough to reach into the drawer of my night table and pull out a box of condoms.
I laughed. “Wow, you must have magical powers. I don’t remember putting those in there.”
“I have many talents.”
I grinned. “So I’ve noticed.” Without asking, I took the foil package from between his fingers and tore it open.
Jared scooted back so I could sit up. I slipped it on over Jared’s tip and carefully rolled it down his length.
His thumb traced circles around my nipple, his dark brown eyes locked on my gaze. “Christ, Callie, I want to be inside you. Preferably sooner rather than later.”
“Sounds good to me,” I whispered before his lips were on mine again. He pushed me back on the bed, spread my thighs wide, and inch by inch sank into me. My inner muscles craved to consume all of him. They clutched at him, pulled him in deeper.
Like his earlier kisses, he moved slowly at first, the strokes executed with tremendous control on his part. But after a few seconds, I didn’t give a damn about his control. I hungered for him to move harder, faster, deeper.
I grabbed his ass and hinted quite clearly what I wanted.
And that’s exactly what I go
t.
It didn’t take long before the earth-shattering tremor rocked my body, sending me careening over the edge into a complete state of bliss.
Jared joined me in euphoria just as I was returning to earth, my body limp and completely satisfied. He kissed me deeply one last time, then pushed himself off the bed. After disposing of the condom, he returned to bed and gathered me against him.
I relaxed in his arms and closed my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered. The steady thump thump thump of his heart lulled me into that fuzzy zone between being awake and asleep.
Neither of us said anything. If it hadn’t been for Jared drawing lazy circles on my lower back, I would’ve guessed he’d gone to sleep. Part of me longed to ask him what he was thinking, but the other part reasoned it was probably just as well that I didn’t know. Might as well let me live with my delusions for as long as possible, before reality bitch-slapped me in the face.
I had no idea how long I’d been asleep when the warmth I was cuddling shifted. Somewhere in the depths of my foggy mind, the sound of a child crying nudged me awake.
I sat up with a start. Jared was pulling on his jeans and was out the door before I had a chance to scramble out of bed. I grabbed my yoga pants and T-shirt from the chair and shoved them on.
By the time I entered Logan’s bedroom, Jared was sitting on his bed, hugging him. The bedroom light wasn’t on, but there was enough light spilling in from the hallway to illuminate father and son. I turned on Logan’s lamp, with a soccer ball as the base, so that he could see me when I signed.
“What’s wrong?” I signed to him.
“Bad dream,” he signed back. He pointed to his ear and signed, “I want to talk.”
Jared watched us, clueless as to what we were saying.
“You want the processor back on?” I signed. Logan could talk without it, but it was still hard to understand what he was saying because he couldn’t hear himself speak.
“Yes. Want Jared to sing to me.”
“What’s he saying?” Jared asked.
“He wants you to sing to him,” I replied. Then to Logan I said and signed, “Jared doesn’t sing. He plays guitar.”
“That’s okay, I’ll sing.”
I flashed Jared a soft smile. The man never ceased to amaze me as to what he would do when it came to his son.
I attached the processor to Logan’s cochlear implant. Once I was finished, Jared started singing. My mouth dropped open. In all the years I’d known him, I’d never heard Jared sing.
I recognized the ballad from the band’s first album. While I would never admit this to Nolan Kincaid’s face, Jared was just as good a singer as he was—and I’d always thought that Nolan was an amazing singer.
Jared finished the song, which was about finding your way when you were lost. Logan wouldn’t understand the meaning behind the lyrics, but that was okay. The melody was soothing, and that was more important than anything else.
Logan clapped.
“Why have I never heard you sing before?” I asked. “You’re amazing.”
Jared’s cheeks reddened. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him blush. “Thanks.”
“No, really. You could seriously be a lead singer.” Which was great if Nolan ever decided to leave the band.
“No, I couldn’t. It takes more than a good voice—”
“Great voice,” I corrected.
“There’s more to it than just standing onstage and singing. Nolan’s a born front man. He knows how to get the audience excited. He lives for being the center of attention when he’s onstage.”
“You don’t want to ever sing lead vocals?”
Jared shook his head. “Why would I? I’m perfectly happy playing guitar and letting Nolan get all the attention.” He chuckled. “And Mason, if he has his way.”
That was too bad, I thought. The world had no idea what it was missing.
I removed Logan’s processor and we stayed with him until he fell asleep again, cuddling the toy dog Jared had bought him this afternoon.
Jared left the room while I watched Logan sleep for another minute or two. Tears blurred my vision. Even though Logan had no idea that Jared was his father, Jared was becoming more important to him with each passing day. What Jared and I had was temporary. I could feel it in my bones. Eventually I’d lose them both—and there was nothing I could do.
30
Jared
This time when I woke up from a dream about fucking Callie, she really was with me. No waking up to an empty bed in my apartment.
Her eyes were closed, her breathing slow and even. Her shiny copper hair framed her face like a flame, but at the same time, it gave her a sweet, innocent aura. My already hard cock hardened some more.
Her dark eyelashes fanned against the faint half circles under her eyes. She’d had them since the first time I bumped into her a few weeks ago, but they were more noticeable without her makeup on. She was exhausted, and it wasn’t hard to guess why. Her entire life revolved around my son: the unsatisfying job that let her get home early to be with him, the online courses she worked on in the evenings so she could eventually give him a better future, the freelance design jobs she did to earn more income. No wonder she was so tired and didn’t have time for her art.
A small sound came from Logan’s room. Careful not to wake Callie, I slipped out from under the covers, quickly dressed, and closed the door behind me. It clicked shut, the sound quiet enough not to wake her. It was only six-thirty, and Callie didn’t have to work today.
Logan was playing with Legos, his new stuffed puppy next to him on the floor. At my movement, he looked up.
“What are you doing?” I signed, even though it was obvious what he was doing.
He signed his reply, but the gestures were well beyond my simple ASL skills. The only part I understood was when he spelled out “Lego” with his fingers.
“I help you?” I signed back. He nodded, and I reattached his audio processor.
We spent the next fifteen minutes creating some unique-looking vehicles. General Motors had nothing on us.
I signed to Logan, “Are you hungry?”
He nodded.
“Do you want to go for a drive and get some breakfast? Just you and me while Mommy sleeps?”
I left Callie a note on the floor in front of Logan’s door, sent my sister a text, and grabbed my car keys and wallet. Then we headed to my favorite place for pancakes—the Pancake Cafe.
The hostess seated us next to the window, giving us a not-so-scenic view of the side street. Luckily Logan wasn’t fussy about that. He was too busy studying the pictures on the menu.
I pointed to the kid-friendly selection, with the photo of a small stack of pancakes with sliced strawberries and bananas, whipped cream, and chocolate sprinkles. “These are really good. So are the ones with blueberries. And these are great too.” I indicated the ones that looked as if chocolate had exploded all over the pancakes and whipped cream.
The waitress returned. Logan and I ordered the chocolate explosion pancakes. Logan also asked for chocolate milk. I ordered coffee.
While we waited, Logan colored the giraffe on the paper place mat with a red crayon. I worked on the elephant with the blue crayon. By the time we were finished, it would be a freaking masterpiece, even if we only had the three primary colors to work with.
“What’s this?” Kristen said, approaching the table.
I startled. I’d been so involved in coloring the picture with Logan, I hadn’t paid attention to anyone else in the restaurant. The clatter of dishes and customer chatter had faded into the background.
With Emma in her arm, my sister grinned at me. “My little bro up at the crack of dawn? Will miracles ever cease?”
I waved at my niece. She made a cute sound that I translated as “Hi, Uncle Jared!”
“You’re a real comedian, sis. Besides it isn’t that early.”
“It’s seven-thirty a.m. For you, that’s early.”
She had
a point. For the pre-Logan me, that would have been pretty much unheard of. “Logan, do you remember Emma and Auntie Kristen?” The word “auntie” slipped out before I could stop it. I held my breath, waiting to see if he caught the mistake.
“Hi,” he said brightly, waved at his cousin, who returned the wave, and went back to coloring the giraffe.
Kristen sat opposite us with Emma on her lap. The toddler leaned forward and grabbed the fork in front of her.
“Where’s Callie?” my sister asked.
“She’s at her apartment. It’s just me and Logan for breakfast.”
“So what’s going on with you two? You finally dating or something?”
“No, just friends.” The word tasted bitter in my mouth. There was nothing wrong with being friends, but I wanted more. I just didn’t know if “more” was a good thing at this point. Not when we had to consider what was best for Logan.
“Really? I could’ve sworn there was something more between you two. I’ve seen the way you look at her, all googly-eyed.”
I snorted a laugh. “You’ve been watching way too many of Emma’s favorite TV shows.”
Kristen’s gaze darted to Logan. I had no idea what Mom had told her, and I had no idea if she was aware that he was my son.
The waitress returned with our food. Logan’s eyes widened at the tower of whipped cream on his plate. He grabbed his fork and dived in.
“Would you like to order now?” she asked Kristen.
Emma banged her fork against the edge of the table. Maybe I could introduce her to Mason, then her first words would be enough to distract her mom from whatever she was thinking when it came to Callie and me. Kristen was a romantic at heart and believed in happily-ever-afters. Would she even approve of us being together, given my career? She had always loved Callie like a sister. She would hate to see either of us get hurt.
As she placed her order with the waitress, Kristen removed the utensil from her daughter’s chubby hand and returned it to the table.
Logan was busy eating the whipped cream off his pancakes. A white streak decorated his upper lip. The rest of the cream was brown, thanks to him stirring the chocolate syrup into it.
My Song For You (Pushing Limits Book 2) Page 19
