by Witt, L. A.
She hugged herself and looked me in the eye. “If you guys decide to stick together, we’re gonna meet him eventually, right?”
Oh. Yeah. Crap.
“I, uh . . .” I scratched the back of my neck. “I guess I’ll have to play that by ear. I don’t know.”
“Oh.”
“We’ll see what happens.” I paused. “And how did you know, anyway?”
“I kind of guessed when you started actually getting out of the house once in a while. But mostly . . .” The corners of her mouth rose into a faint smile with a hint of nostalgia and a little bit of sadness. “I can tell whenever he texts you.”
“What? How?”
“Because you look at your phone the same way you always did when Leo texted you. When you guys were still dating.”
Heart. Feet.
I forced a smile even though my daughter might as well have kicked me in the balls. “I hadn’t realized that. Wow.”
“So are things—”
“No, they aren’t serious.” I shook my head. “He’s a great guy, but . . . no.”
She held my gaze. “Do you think you’ll ever settle down with someone again? Like, someone who’ll stick around?” The note of rawness in her voice reminded me of the tearful “Where’s Mommy?” when she’d been a toddler, and the innocent, puzzled “Why is Beth leaving?” a few years later. My divorce from Leo had prompted a hell of a lot of resentful silence, so hearing this from her again was a surprise. And it broke my heart.
“I don’t know, baby,” I said finally. “I . . .” I wanted to say I hoped so, but I’d tried to keep the kids from realizing how lonely I was. How much it hurt me every time someone walked away.
“I’m just scared.” She folded her arms tighter across her chest and stared at the linoleum. “Whenever you date people . . .” Her jaw clenched.
“I know.” I sighed. “Believe me, I know.”
She met my eyes. “So how is this going to be any different?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek, wondering which approach to take. Who was I kidding? She wasn’t stupid, and she was older now than she’d been during my last three breakups. She didn’t even remember her mother leaving. She’d barely grasped why her stepmom was leaving. She’d been a lot wiser about the world when Leo and I had called it quits, and I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than when she’d been too young to understand. Now she was dipping her toes into dating herself, and was I doing her any favors if I tried to gloss over this with fairy-tale sunshine and roses?
I leaned against the counter. “The truth is, I don’t know if it will be any different.”
Desiree’s eyes widened.
“This could blow up in my face like Leo, Beth, and your mom.” I shrugged, wondering when my shoulders had become this heavy. “And I’m not gonna lie—that scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to see you kids get hurt again. I’d rather not get hurt again myself. So I’m trying to take things slow with him. Maybe a little further down the line, I’ll introduce him to you guys, but not now.”
She held my gaze. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Finally, she relaxed a little, and a subtle smile materialized. “Okay. Good luck with him.”
I laughed uncomfortably. “Thanks.”
After she’d left the kitchen, I went into the living room and dropped onto the couch. I’d promised to introduce them if things got serious with Aaron, and guilt was gnawing at me now. It was only a half-truth, and I hated myself for it. Yeah, if things progressed to that level with Aaron, I’d bring him home. But they wouldn’t. He didn’t want something long-term. Being a stepdad wasn’t on his agenda, and that was fine by me. With Aaron, I was finally getting a taste of a kind of spontaneity that I’d never had a chance to experience when I was young and stupid.
And as weird as it was to admit it to myself, I liked it this way. For all I’d freaked out in the beginning about doing something casual, this worked. It worked amazingly well. I didn’t even feel as guilty about not trying to find a suitable stepparent for my kids. Early on, a huge reason I’d been determined to have a committed partner was that my kids needed stability.
But now they had stability. We had a home. They were well-adjusted and thriving. They had a solid relationship with their ex-stepfather. A committed relationship on my part brought nothing to the table that my kids were lacking, but it definitely brought them some potential instability. If I stayed single—with or without a friend with benefits—for the rest of my life, it wouldn’t hurt my kids. If I met someone and it ended in disaster like with their mothers and stepfather . . .
I sighed and leaned back on the couch. The guilt actually started to lift. Maybe what I was doing with Aaron was the best thing for the family. I was getting what I needed. My kids weren’t getting attached to a flight risk, and someday, I’d meet someone and decide to give commitment another try.
But, to my surprise, this casual, kinda reckless thing with Aaron was perfect. Mr. or Mrs. Right could wait.
For the moment, all I wanted was exactly what I had—Mr. Right Now.
Chapter 20
Aaron
Every morning of my life, unless I was at the firehouse, I woke up surrounded by my pets. Snowball against my chest, Jack sprawled across the foot of the bed, Oreo on the other pillow, and Tiger wherever she’d hunkered down for the night. It was a normal part of my day. As much as drinking coffee and cursing out the criminally long red light at the end of my street.
So why the hell did it feel so weird today?
As I always did, I carefully got up without jostling Snowball more than I had to. And as she always did, she protested with a quiet little mewl, then rolled onto her back, stretched, and went back to sleep.
I glanced at the other side of the bed and did a double take.
Oh. That was why things felt so weird.
No Shane.
Which . . . He never slept here aside from the night before we’d left for Seattle. If he were in my bed now, in the daylight, that would’ve been out of the ordinary. So why the hell did it feel weird when he wasn’t?
I’d lived with a few guys over the years, and with every single one, there’d been an adjustment period. We’d had to get used to sharing counter space in the bathroom, each other’s habits when it came to loading the dishwasher or dealing with mail. For me, the longest part of that adjustment was always getting used to sharing a bed.
Shane and I had spent three nights together—one of them in this bed—and waking up without him felt weird.
I shook myself and headed into the bathroom for a shower. I wasn’t losing my mind. It was just a little weekend hangover. Like when I came back from a long vacation and had to get used to the idea that there wasn’t a beach right outside the sliding glass door. A shower, some coffee, a brisk walk with Jack, and I’d be back to normal.
After I’d showered, I went into the kitchen and fed Jack. While he inhaled his breakfast, I fed the cats, and while they ate, I took Jack out for a walk.
“Morning, Aaron!” Janice, my neighbor, waved from her front steps.
“Morning.” I waved back. Gesturing at Jack, I said, “He didn’t give you any trouble this weekend, did he?”
“No, never.” She started down the walk, so I stopped, and Jack obediently sat beside me. At the fence, she crouched down and held out her hand. Jack immediately licked it, tail snapping back and forth as he tried really, really hard to behave and stay sitting.
I scratched his neck. “Well, I really appreciate you taking care of him for the weekend.”
“Oh, anytime.” She stood slowly. “I didn’t see much of that orange cat, though. I think he was eating his food, but I never did see him after the first day.”
“She’s there. She’s just shy. I barely see her myself.”
“That’s what I thought, but I always worry when I can’t find him.” She paused. “So did you have a good time in Seattle?”
Oh, you could say that.
I smiled. “Ye
ah, it was a nice trip. Good to be home, though.” Is it? Damn it, couldn’t we have stayed there one more night?
We talked for a minute or so, then I continued on my walk with Jack. My knee wasn’t thrilled about it, which meant we had to walk a little slower than normal. Jack patiently stayed right beside me. Thank God—getting dragged by an eighty-pound boxer mix wouldn’t help with my knee.
At a small park not far from my neighborhood, I unclipped his leash and threw a stick out onto the grass. Jack shot after it, kicking up dirt and grass like a rooster tail. He brought it back and was halfway across the park before I’d thrown the stick again.
While my dog galloped back and forth with the increasingly slobbery stick, I still couldn’t shake off that hungover feeling. It wasn’t a hangover in the sense that I was sick or in pain or regretting the weekend I’d spent. I felt . . . disoriented in my own shoes. It didn’t make a damn bit of sense, but after three nights with Shane, going back to my own life was weird.
I sighed as I threw Jack’s stick again. Maybe it had just been too long since I’d spent more than a night with someone. Spending an entire weekend focused on one person was one of the few things I liked—and admittedly missed—about actual relationships.
It hadn’t been the wild weekend we’d set out to have. There’d been no debauchery or . . . okay, there’d been drinking, but that hadn’t lasted long. I’d fully expected us both to be crawling back to Bluewater Bay with pounding heads and aching bodies.
And somehow, when we didn’t, I wasn’t disappointed. Instead of living it up like twentysomethings, we’d mostly stayed in. A quiet dinner. Lounging in bed with a movie on. Having the kind of lazy, drawn-out sex we almost never had time for at home. It was a shame I couldn’t have him stay over more often. Me staying at his place was probably out of the question—that wasn’t a bridge we needed to cross with his kids.
Jack came running back with—
“Jack!” I laughed. “That’s not a stick. That’s a tree!”
He dropped the giant branch at my feet and squirmed, wagging his tail so hard he was whipping his own sides with it.
“I’m not throwing this.” How he’d managed to pick it up and carry it, never mind run with it, was a mystery I’d never crack, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to give myself a hernia trying to throw it for him.
Jack cocked his head, wagging even faster.
Chuckling, I snapped off a more manageable piece from the branch and threw that. As Jack took off after it, I laughed and shook my head. Hopefully he wouldn’t bring back a damn log this time.
My phone buzzed, and when I took it out of my pocket, I grinned like an idiot at Shane’s name.
This weekend was great. Feels weird to be home.
My spine straightened. So it wasn’t just me?
Cautiously, I wrote back, Yeah, kinda does.
Jack dropped another stick at my feet. I threw it, then looked at my phone again, still keeping an eye on my dog in case he decided to go chase a rabbit or something.
You busy tonight?
Every ache and twinge seemed to glow a little hotter right then, like my body was warning me against spending more time with Shane before I’d had a chance to recover. I wasn’t twenty-five anymore. This morning, I could feel all forty-six of my years and then some.
But I hadn’t listened to aches or twinges before, and I wasn’t going to start now.
Not busy at all. My place?
* * *
I couldn’t decide if it just felt like it because we’d spent an entire weekend together, or if Shane and I really did struggle to spend more than a few minutes together that week. The first night back in town, we had time to eagerly—if gingerly—fuck in my bed. After that, it was pulling teeth to get our schedules to line up enough for more than five minutes here or there. He came by the garage with coffee, but had to get to the set early. The following day, I dropped by the set for lunch, but then had to get back to the garage. He’d planned to come by the station during my shift, but it was call after call after call. Somehow, we managed to carve out enough time for a quickie blowjob in my office and another in his car outside the set lot, but goddamn, it was not enough.
Finally, though, a full week after we’d come back from Seattle, the stars aligned and we had an evening to ourselves.
“Holy fuck.” Shane dropped onto my bed, sweaty and out of breath.
“Jesus . . .” I collapsed beside him. Every inch of my body ached and tingled, and it felt great.
After he’d started to catch his breath, he pushed himself up and disappeared long enough to get rid of the condom, then joined me on the bed again.
I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. Though we were both hot and sweaty, neither of us pushed the other away.
Eventually, he broke the kiss and touched his forehead to mine. “And to think . . .” He ran his hand up the middle of my back. “Before I met you, I was in a year-long dry spell.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, if you’re going to keep fucking me like that, I’m happy to help you make up for any lost time.”
“Sweet.” He exhaled. “Because that was . . . so good.”
“Uh-huh. You’re telling me.” If my life depended on it, I couldn’t have decided if I preferred topping or bottoming with him. Most guys I’d been with, I enjoyed it either way but definitely liked one or the other slightly more. Shane? Jesus. Didn’t matter to me. I loved fucking him or taking him, just like I loved blowing him or being blown by him. As long as Shane and hard-ons were involved, I was happy.
Shane dropped onto the pillow and sighed happily. “By the way, you’re really screwing with my jerking-off game. Just so you know.”
“Huh?” I pushed myself up on to my elbow. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you raising the bar enough that my hand is not getting the job done.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but . . . Who am I kidding, right?”
Shane laughed. He shifted onto his side too, and kissed me. “Well, if I turn out to be completely insatiable, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
“That’s an acceptable risk.”
“I figured it would be.”
I chuckled. “And, hey, I’ve got duty at the firehouse this weekend, but if you’ve got some time the weekend after, maybe we could give the club scene another try. If you’re still game, I mean.”
“I’m definitely game.” He grinned, but it faltered. “Not sure I can justify another trip to Seattle right now, though.”
I shrugged. “We don’t have to go as far this time. It’ll still be a little bit of a drive, but there are plenty of halfway-decent clubs between here and Seattle.”
“Oh yeah?” He perked up. “So, you really want to?”
“Are you kidding?” I ran my hand down his side. “If you’re in, I’m in.”
“I’m in. And, uh, maybe I’ll hold off on the booze a little this time.” He scowled. “Shit, maybe I really am too old for this shit.”
I kissed the top of his shoulder. “Nope. Because if you are, I am. And I am not too old.”
“Fair enough, fair enough.”
“That’s what I thought. And yeah, when you’ve got a night off, if you want to go out partying, I’m absolutely game.”
Shane’s eyes gleamed with excitement and mischief. “Sweet. I’m sure I can carve out an evening.”
“I’ll make it worth your while if you do.”
“Zero doubt whatsoever.” He kissed me and draped an arm over my side. “You always make it worth my while.”
“So no pressure, right?”
His hand drifted down to my ass as he said, “Well, you have raised the bar pretty high.”
“Guess I’d better maintain the status quo, eh?” I pressed against him, letting my hardening dick rub his hip.
Shane licked his lips as he glanced down. “Already?”
“Yeah, why?” I winked. “Didn’t I tell you I’m not too old for this?”
&
nbsp; Laughing, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me on top of him. “You weren’t lying, were you?”
“I absolutely was not . . .”
Chapter 21
Shane
“So what’s the game plan? Same as last time?”
Hunched over the chest-high table we’d snagged near the edge of the club, Aaron sipped his drink and scanned the room. “Yeah, same as last time.” His gaze slid toward me, and he grinned behind his glass. “Maybe without so much booze.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I took a drink from the one and only cocktail I intended to order tonight. “Anyway. Game plan?”
“Might be a bit much if we both approach somebody.” He turned to me. “But if one of us moves in first like we did last time, and then makes the suggestion . . .” He shrugged. “We see what happens.”
“How do we decide who goes first? Flip a coin?”
Aaron laughed. “Oh hell. Why not?” He pulled a quarter out of his pocket. “Call it in the air.” He flipped it up into the air.
As it somersaulted above his hand, I said, “Tails.”
And the quarter landed, heads up, in the middle of his hand. Closing his fingers around it, he grinned. “Looks like I’m up.”
“Looks like you are.” I kissed him and grinned. “Good luck.”
He stole one last kiss, took a sip of his drink, and stepped out into the dance floor’s thickening crowd.
God only knew if we’d find a third—or third and fourth—guy to take to bed tonight. At least we were doing better than we had in Seattle. The alcohol had killed us last time. If we struck out tonight, well, it was either bad luck or bad game. Whatever happened, one thing was for sure—I was having sex with someone tonight, and that gorgeous firefighter-slash-mechanic would be there.
As I watched him, my drink was definitely less for alcohol and more for something cold. I loved watching him dance. Even more than that, I fucking loved watching him flirt. He was a little hesitant about it here, though, and I could see why. He was barely gray enough to qualify as a silver fox, but he was definitely older than most guys in this place. And they noticed.
