by Whitley Cox
“He’s off changing Landon,” Amy whispered, coming up behind me, a smile in her voice. Her breath smelled like coffee and chocolate.
It reminded me of my own mocha latte, and I took a long healthy sip.
“Did you guys have another date?”
I nodded. “Mhmm.”
“And?”
“It was great.”
Her hand landed on my shoulder, and she spun me around to face her. Her eyes were pleading with me to dish the dirty deets.
“Carly cock-blocked us.”
“Shit,” she muttered under her breath. “Been there. Kids seriously suck sometimes.”
“Tell me about it.”
“But you’re not giving up, right?”
I shook my head as the thought of Saturday night’s phone sex flooded my mind. I took another sip of my coffee and smiled into my to-go mug. Oh no, we weren’t giving up. We were just getting started.
“Good. Sex when you’re married is hard enough to achieve when you have a little kid. I can’t imagine trying to date and have sex. At least I live with my partner.”
Just then, Sam emerged from around the corner with Landon on his hip. The diaper bag was slung over his one shoulder as he sauntered in wearing a short-sleeved button-up blue and brown checkered shirt and dark wash jeans. His gait was natural and easy and sexy as hell. Every woman in the room watched as he gently plunked Landon on the floor. The little guy immediately started to crawl away as Sam hung up the diaper bag, then pulled out a stack of what looked like envelopes. With a cocky-as-all-get-out grin and that same sexy swagger as before, he made his way toward us. Connie gasped. I rolled my eyes.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said. His eyes lingered on mine for just a moment longer, and his smile stretched just a little wider. “Nasty weather we’re having out there, isn’t it?”
“Foul.” Amy chuckled.
He held out the envelopes. “I’d like to cordially invite all of you and your little ones to Landon’s first birthday party on Saturday. I apologize if this is a bit last minute. My mother had apparently ordered the invitations, and they didn’t arrive until Friday.” He handed one to me, and I took it. Our fingers brushed beneath the invitation, and a charge of electricity whipped though me. His smile grew even bigger.
I swallowed. “Is it at your house?”
He shook his head. “No. My mother wants to host it. So it’ll be at my parents’ place. Which isn’t too far from here, actually. Only about fifteen minutes.”
“Sounds like fun,” Connie said. Amy shot her a glare, but it went unnoticed.
Amy was still pissed off at Connie for what she did regarding Henry’s birthday back in October. Amy had been on the fence about throwing her son a first birthday party. She thought it was superfluous and a waste of money. The kid wouldn’t remember it; she’d felt swamped with life and work and didn’t want the added stress. But Connie and few other mothers in the group had convinced her to have a small one at her house, said they would come and help. Amy had complied and thrown Henry a party. Connie had RSVP’d yes but never showed up and never apologized or gave a reason why she was absent. A few other mums had bailed too, but at least they’d had the decency to explain why. Amy didn’t genuinely hold any ill will toward Connie, she still talked with the woman, but whenever the discussion of kids’ birthday parties came up, Amy clammed up and steam whooshed from her ears.
“It was my mother’s idea,” Sam said, looking down at his shoes and scratching the back of his neck. “It’s okay if you can’t come. I’m sure there will be enough family to make it fun for him. He probably won’t care either way, anyway.”
“We’ll definitely come,” Connie chirruped, giving him the ol’ once-over. Though her eyes lingered a smidgen too long on the V of his pants. Amy made a noise in her throat and elbowed Connie. Connie’s head snapped up to Sam’s face, and she plastered on a big, cheesy grin. “We’ll be there with bells on.”
Sam nodded. “Cool. Harper, what about you?”
I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
His smile made my knees to turn to jelly.
“Excellent.” He gave us all one more big Hot Dad grin, then wandered off to hand out a few more invitations before settling down on the carpet in the corner next to Landon with his back to us.
“Partying with Hot Dad, this is so exciting.” Connie giggled, stashing the invitation under her cellphone on the high table we all used to hold our coffees.
“You’re not partying with Hot Dad,” Amy said with a scoff, tossing her dark choppy bob and giving Connie an irritated glare. “You’re going to Hot Dad’s kid’s birthday party. Big difference. So I suggest you leave your lacy crop top and hip huggers in your closet.”
Connie made a pouty face and crossed her arms in front of her. “Party pooper.”
My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it from the table.
S: Your elbows look so hot in that tight black sweater.
I snorted but then immediately lifted my coffee and took a sip, desperate to hide my mile-wide smile. I’d worn a tight-fitting three-quarter-sleeve black knit sweater with a flattering but not risqué V-neck. There was no cleavage, but the way my shirt hugged my curves and the bra I was wearing, my breasts were definitely front and center. As for my elbows, well, they were covered, but just barely. Depending on how I moved, one might peek out from beneath the sleeve.
S: Careful. I can almost see your elbow with the way you’re holding your coffee. Wouldn’t want a bow-slip at playgroup.
I lifted my head. He had swiveled around and was now facing me. His head was down as he stared at his phone, waiting for my response.
H: Thanks for letting me know. BTW, your elbows look HOT in that shirt. They’re right out there for anyone to see and drool over. In all their bendy glory.
S: The only person they want to bend for is you.
S: Well, and me. I need my elbows to bend so I can pick stuff up.
I chuckled. He was adorable. The man had so many sides. Sweet and attentive, funny and goofy, but then when it came to anything in the bedroom, even over the phone, he was as dirty as they came and dominating as hell.
H: Yes, I think you’ll probably need your elbows to bend for the things you have planned for us on Friday.
S: You have no idea how much I need my elbows for Friday.
“Are you two talking about elbows?”
I looked to my right, and nosy Amy was hanging over my shoulder reading my text messages.
“It’s an inside joke.”
“Riiight.” Her grin was sly. She slipped a piece of chocolate into her mouth from her pocket and winked at me. “And I like how long Garret’s nose is. He’s got a great nose. You two are hilarious.” Her amber eyes twinkled brightly as she munched on chocolate.
My cheeks were on fire, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my face if I tried. “He’s so great.”
“You two are adorable.”
I glanced back up at Sam. He was watching me. A coy smile hooked at the corner of his mouth and lifted up ever so slightly before he put his head back down and his fingers tapped away on his phone. Seconds later, my phone buzzed.
S: If you breathe a word of this to Amy, I get to punish you.
H: My lips are sealed.
I made a small zip/lock/toss away the key movement, which was not lost on him as his gorgeous blue eyes bored into my soul from across the gymnasium.
S: Those lips better not be “sealed.” I plan to make good use of them. You haven’t forgotten our phone call on Saturday night already, have you?
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Immediately I reached for my coffee again.
Hot damn, Hot Dad!
What the hell was he trying to make me do, lose my shit at playgroup? Because if he continued on the path he was currently on, I was going to be a wreck very soon. My bottom lip dropped open and I stared at him. He put his head down, and his fingers tapped.
S: Oh good. No longer sea
led.
I spun around and stared at a scuff on the floor. I was going to lose it. He was driving me crazy. Crazy in a good way, but still crazy. Amy’s chuckle next to me was almost diabolical.
“Oh, girl. You two have got it bad. You should just run out and go do it in the janitor’s closet right now. I’ll make sure the kids don’t choke.”
“Shut up,” I whispered.
She continued to laugh. Meanwhile my face got warmer and warmer and my panties wetter and wetter. My phone buzzed when another text message popped up.
S: Ready for a dick pic?
My mouth hung open.
H: Here?
S: Why not?
Turning my back to everyone, I hunched nearly double over my phone, waiting. Oh dear God. We were actually doing this. Sam was going to send me a dick pic. I held my breath.
My phone buzzed again.
And up popped a picture of…
Dick Van Dyke.
I burst out laughing, which caused a few heads to turn my way. Glancing up and through the tears, I tried to catch Sam’s gaze, but he was looking anywhere but at me. Those baby blues were currently transfixed on a toy cop car that Landon was playing with, but his fingers were busy flying across the screen of his phone.
My phone buzzed again.
S: I take it you think my dick is funny?
I could barely type, my whole body was still shaking so much.
H: I happen to think Dick is hilarious.
S: How about this dick then? This dick pic is going to be HUGE. Get ready to be wowed, baby.
I braced myself for anything. Who was it going to be a picture of next? Andy Dick? Dick Cheney? My phone vibrated in my palm, and the GIF of a bull elephant slowly getting aroused filled my screen.
“You guys are seriously weird,” Amy said, glancing at my screen and then giving me a big eye roll as she popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. “But cute.”
“Should I send him back a picture of a cat?” I asked.
Her nose wrinkled. “Why?” Then her eyes lit up, and she grinned. “Oh yeah, do it! A big furry one.”
It was Wednesday night, and I was just hunkering down on the couch with a glass of zinfandel, ready to catch up on work, when my phone vibrated. Secretly hoping it was Sam, I let the smallest of giddy squeaks eek out before I clutched it to my chest and bounced up and down on the cushion. We’d chatted for a bit the night before as we both worked, and although we hadn’t had any more phone sex, because we were both too busy and too tired, the sexual tension and need for release had drifted between us for the better part of two hours as innuendos and double entendres were staples of the conversation. Lots of talk about elbows, knees and various other seemingly innocent body parts that I suddenly had new erotic thoughts about.
I opened up his text message and there, in all his scrumptiously sexy, chiseled, tanned perfection, was Sam. Like the picture last week, he was wearing his firefighter gear, only this time he was shirtless and just had his suspenders on over his naked torso. He looked slightly dirty. Smoke damage? I chuckled at my own mirth as I continued to ogle him. His skin glistened as if he’d just come in from a run, and his beautiful tattoo was showcased perfectly. Unlike last week, when he had been staring directly at the camera, smoldering and trying to remove my bra with his eyes, this time he was looking off into the distance, as if remembering all the puppies and kittens he’d saved from burning buildings. But the best part of all was that he was straddling a big long fire hose and gripping it with both hands.
I reached for my wine glass and chugged. I ended up swallowing too much and started to choke. Once I knew I wasn’t going to die from drinking too much wine, I texted him back.
H: I’d let you climb into my window with your big long hose any day.
Giggling at my ridiculousness, I drank more wine. I hadn’t had this much fun with a man in years. We weren’t “dating” so much per se, but we were still getting to know each other in a way that worked for our current lifestyle. I guess you could call it long-distance dating, because this was the kind of thing people in long-distance relationships did, only we lived fifteen minutes from each other. What would you call this kind of dating? Busy, exhausted single-parent dating? Sure.
S: Friday, baby. I’m going to knock down your door with my battering ram, bring my big hose in and light your fire. (Please ignore the inaccuracies in this metaphor) :P
My laugh came out more like a bark, and I quickly had to clap my hand over my mouth for fear of waking up Carly. Damn, he was funny.
H: I’m pretty sure the fire will be sufficiently stoked by the time Friday comes. That picture … can I use my blue toy, sir?
S: Fuck, Harper. Yes, so long as you know I’m going to feel a million times better.
H: I know you will.
S: God, is it Friday yet?
H: No :(
I finished off my wine and set my glass down on the coffee table.
S: I hope you like the color blue.
I snorted again, causing wine to spray out of my nose.
S: Because that’s what color my eyes are.
H: I love your blue eyes.
S: I love your brown eyes.
My chest tightened, and those drunk little butterflies in my belly started haphazardly flying around and bumping into each other. Butterflies were notorious lightweights. We continued to text for roughly another hour as I worked. Apparently, he was working too, but not getting much done, as he was exhausted. Much like my child, his were both early risers, and Landon had decided that morning that four-thirty was a reasonable time to start the day. I went to bed with drunk butterflies in my belly and a smile on my face. Even though our relationship so far consisted of one real date, one Skype date and a bunch of phone calls and texts, I was already head over heels for the man. I couldn’t wait for Friday. I grabbed my battery operated boyfriend and moved it down below the sheets.
Shit! I needed to wax.
Chapter 12
Sam
I couldn’t remember the last time I was this excited about something. And it wasn’t even the fact that I was going to get laid tonight. Yes, that was a major plus, and my balls were grateful for the upcoming reprieve, but I was more excited to be spending time with Harper. I swung into the liquor store and hustled inside. I’d already done my research on the bottle I wanted to get—a nice 2013 Argentinian malbec. I found it. Paid for it. And was back in my SUV in less than five minutes. I was a man on a mission. I had no time to mindlessly wander the aisles in search of the perfect bottle or a label that was cute or funny or spoke to me.
No.
I didn’t want to waste a second. The kids were with my parents, Carly was with Harper’s sister for the night, nobody was barfing or working, we were good to go.
Careful not to drive like too much of a madman, I swerved in and out of Friday evening traffic like a seasoned Formula One driver, but a Formula One driver who had the “Baby on Board” sign pinned to the back of his car. In no time I was pulling into Harper’s driveway. With the giddiness of a teenage boy heading into his girlfriend’s house when he knew her parents were out of town, I grabbed dinner from the restaurant Ben had told me about, T&A (Tacos and Anchos), the wine, and my overnight bag, then headed to her front door.
It was bloody cold outside, and my fingers were freezing and threatening to fall off as they wrapped themselves tightly around the plastic bag with our takeout. A fluffy white cat, the same from our Skype chat two weeks ago, sprinted across my path, making me trip and nearly drop everything. I cursed it under my breath as it ran up the back steps to the balcony behind the house. Regaining my footing, I approached her door. I was just about to knock when my phone began to ring in my pocket. I set everything down on Harper’s welcome mat and pulled out my phone.
It was my dad. Uh-oh.
“Hey, Dad. Now’s not really a good time. What’s up?”
His exhausted sigh on the other end had my whole body tightening up. “Gemma fell and broke
her arm.” Leave it to my dad to skip the story, skip the pleasantries and get straight to the point.
“What? How?”
Just then the front door swung open and there stood Harper, looking like a super sexy girl next door in tight black jeans a white tank top with a red, white and gray flannel shirt overtop.
“She was horsing around on the couch and fell off funny. Landed on her arm and started screaming. Your mother stayed with Landon as it was nearly bedtime, and I rushed her to the hospital. Figured you’d want me to do that first before calling you.”
Harper’s eyes were full of curiosity. Her mouth drew down into a frown as the realization swept through both of us. Tonight was not our night.
“Yeah. Thanks, Dad. Is she asking for me?”
“Yeah. She’s pretty upset.”
I offered Harper a pleading look. She returned it with a shake of her head and an understanding smile.
