by Lili Valente
But money can’t buy everything, and lately that’s included reliable childcare.
Portland is experiencing a serious nanny and babysitter shortage. If Justin and Laura hadn’t stepped in to help me out half a dozen times each, I don’t know what I would have done. In Justin’s case, I don’t feel too bad—I’ve done my share of favors for Jus in the years we’ve been friends—but with Laura…
Well, with Laura I feel like a bastard.
A seriously shitty excuse for a human being who made love to her like it was my mission on Earth for three days, told her I wasn’t interested in feelings because I needed stability for my daughter, and then proceeded to take advantage of her generosity and hit her up for childcare assistance in my time of need. And now I’ve put her in an even worse spot with the fake-girlfriend shit, when all of this could have been avoided if I hadn’t been so damned convinced that she was secretly in love with my best friend.
In my defense, Justin and Laura have one of those weirdly close friendships that look a lot like repressed attraction. They party all summer on his boat, have movie nights every other week, laugh way too loud when they’re together, and hug good-bye with an intensity that makes it clear that they love each other.
But they don’t love each other in that way.
Justin loves Laura’s little sister, Libby, in that way, and Laura seems genuinely happy that Jus and Libby have found something special together.
Which means I’m an idiot.
I’m a fool who botched my shot at being the man in Laura’s bed because I was so certain I was a distraction, a placeholder, something to settle for until she and Jus found their way through friendship to something more. Because I woke up that last morning in Cannon Beach with her lying next to me, looking so beautiful it was painful to lay eyes on her, and decided I would rather have nothing than be second best.
By the time I realized how wrong I was, it was too late. I’d already hurt Laura’s feelings, wounded her pride, and wrecked any chance I might have had with her. Since that weekend, every time we’re together, Laura’s walls go up so fast it gives me whiplash. The only time I see the soft, silly, vulnerable woman I held hands with on the beach is when she’s with Chloe.
Laura clearly adores my daughter. And Chloe adores her. And fuck if that doesn’t shove the knife deeper every time I see Chloe hug Laura good-bye.
Now, as I pull onto Sherman Street, spotting the willowy redhead in a white sweater, and jeans that hug her phenomenal ass waiting for me at the end of her driveway with a determined but distant smile fixed on her face, it’s all I can do not to keep driving. I don’t want an awkward weekend with fake kisses and a line of pillows stacked between us to make sure I stay on my side of the bed. I want the chance I screwed up last summer.
But I should know by now that what I want doesn’t matter.
“Laura!” The moment I shut off the car, Chloe erupts from the backseat, lunging at Laura and hugging her tight. “Ride in the backseat with me! I brought car trip bingo! We can play the whole way there!”
“Sounds awesome,” Laura says, the warmth in her eyes cooling as her gaze shifts my way. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I slam the door closed and motion to the large suitcase and smaller travel bag at the end of the driveway. “This all your gear?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Once you introduced skiing into the mix, the packing situation got out of hand.”
“No worries. We’ve got plenty of room.” I pop open the back of the Land Cruiser and slide Laura’s luggage in beside Chloe’s. By the time I’m done, Laura has buckled Chloe into her car seat and is circling around the front of the SUV to the passenger’s side.
“You don’t mind if I ride in back, do you?” she asks as I move to meet her. “You and I will have plenty of forced togetherness once we get to your in-laws’ house.”
“Right.” My throat goes tight as I scan her face, looking for a weakness in her defenses, but not finding a single crack. In fact, she looks even less thrilled to see me than usual.
Steve and Angie might not notice her standoffishness, at least not right away, but I certainly do, and with every passing second, I’m growing less certain that we’ll be able to pull this off.
This isn’t the woman I kissed on the beach. This isn’t the woman I tucked under my arm as I fell asleep, or woke with a trail of kisses up the sweet, soft skin of her inner thigh. This woman practically radiates “Don’t Even Think About Touching Me, Creep” vibes. I can’t imagine that kissing her is going to feel anything but forced and awkward, and that’s not going to slip by a former sex ed teacher unnoticed.
“You okay?” Laura arches a brow, hesitating beside the door.
“No, I’m not.” My fingers cover hers, stopping her before she can pull the handle. “I need to know something before we leave.”
“Okay,” she says, with a frown. “Are you sure you’re—”
Her words end in a hum of surprise as I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her against me as my mouth finds hers.
And for a moment, it’s as awkward as I feared it would be. Her lips are stiff, and she’s gone so rigid it feels like I’m wrapping my arms around one of the statues at the botanical gardens. But when my tongue sweeps out to tease the seam of her mouth, she softens. Her lips part and she melts against me, her arms going around my neck as I stroke deep into her mouth, tasting mint toothpaste and the darker, sweeter taste of Laura.
She tastes like secrets whispered beneath the covers, and spices I don’t know the names for, and places I’ve never been but really, really want to visit. She makes me ache in a way I didn’t think I would ever ache again, and all I want to do is carry her into the house, up to her bedroom, and make love to her until all her walls come tumbling down.
But my daughter is here, in the backseat, a fact I’m reminded of when a sharp knock on the window makes Laura jump, and her teeth knock lightly against mine.
“Ouch.” She laughs and tries to step away, but I tighten the arm encircling her waist, keeping her warm, curvy body close to mine.
A moment later, Chloe shoves open the door and sticks her head into the cool winter air. “Hey!” Her wide eyes flick from me to Laura and back again. “Since when did you two start kissing?”
“Since this summer.” I mix truth in with the lie, in case Steve and Angie start asking Chloe questions when I’m not around. Better that they think Laura and I have been together for a while and this relationship isn’t a flash in the pan.
“Oh.” Chloe’s gaze narrows, but after a second she nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Laura asks, blinking. “That’s it?”
“I mean, it’s kind of embarrassing,” Chloe says with a grin. “But I know about boyfriends and girlfriends. Seraphina has a boyfriend. He gives her his dessert at lunch.”
“I would give Laura my dessert,” I say. “Any time she asked for it.”
Laura clears her throat as she pats my chest. “That’s okay. You can keep your dessert. We’ve got donuts, and I’m sure there’s going to be plenty of pie around this weekend. But shouldn’t we get going? Didn’t you say it’s around a two-hour drive?”
I nod. “Yeah. We should get going. Buckle up, Chloe.”
“Okay, but Laura’s still riding in back with me, Dad. I called her first.”
“Noted.” I smile, Laura’s lips curve in response, and for the first time since last summer, I spy a break in the fortress she’s built to keep me out.
“Hey,” I add in a softer voice as Chloe crawls back to her car seat. “Sorry to spring that on you. I just wanted to be sure we could be convincing.”
“It’s fine.” She brushes her hair over her shoulder, clearing her throat. “But you don’t have to worry. I took drama classes in college. I can fake being head-over-heels for a weekend, no problem.”
“Good,” I say. But the chilly note in her voice feels the opposite of good, and the moment she steps out of my arms
and slides into the backseat feels even worse.
But then, no one ever said being a single parent was going to be easy.
That’s what I have to do—stay focused on this as something I’m doing as a parent, to keep Chloe with me where she belongs, and ignore the voice in my head that suggests it might not be too late to convince the other redhead in my life to give me another chance.
Chapter Six
Laura
By the time I’m able to stop thinking about The Kiss—the devastatingly sexy, intense, panty-melting kiss—we’re miles outside the city, zipping toward the greater Mount Hood ski area along roads lined with snow-dusted farms and cozy cottages instead of urban sprawl.
Chloe is kicking my ass in road-trip bingo, but that’s fine. Chloe likes to win, and I’m grateful for an excuse to stare out the window and pretend to be looking for “No U-turn” signs, cows, police cars, joggers, and the other items on my card. But I’m not looking for joggers, and I miss at least two chances to cover my cow space with a tiny blue magnet—according to Chloe, who takes great delight in pointing out my lost opportunity.
All I’m thinking is….
Shit!
Shit, shit, shit! What have you gotten yourself into?
Seriously? What have you done? And how are you going to keep from melting into a pathetic puddle of lust at Brendan’s feet and begging him to put your pussy out of its misery before the weekend is through?
Until Brendan kissed me this morning, I was pretty sure that shacking up at his former wife’s parents’ house would be enough to put a serious damper on the attraction I feel for the man. It’s a sad, strange situation and only seemed stranger the longer I lay awake in bed last night, fretting about my ability to pull off pretending to be Brendan’s special lady friend in front of strangers.
But now…
I steal a glance at the driver’s seat, and my pulse immediately throbs faster.
Even his profile is stunning. But it isn’t the strong jaw with the dusting of stubble, the perfectly balanced features, or the full lips that make my heart flip and my chest ache. It’s the man himself—this man I long for and loathe in equal measure.
I hate that he kissed me and reminded me how intense the chemistry is between us. And I love that he kissed me, giving me another chance to memorize how electric it feels to be in his arms.
If nothing else, at least this trip will give me fresh fantasy fodder for the months ahead, fuel for more long nights spent with my vibrator, trying not to think about Brendan. Nights that inevitably end with me replaying scenes from our hot-as-hell weekend over and over again in my mind as Bob, my battery-operated boyfriend, buzzes his sad, lonely, one-noted tune between my legs.
Ugh! I’m so pathetic.
I should have fucked Brendan out of my system a long time ago.
Back in September, I should have taken Hot Goatee Guy from happy hour at the Knock Back Bar home and ridden him all night long. Or I should have called Nelson, my college boyfriend, who’s always up for a random hookup when we’re both single and feeling sad. Hell, I might have been better off if I’d accepted one of Henry’s many apologies for borrowing my underwear without asking and gotten back with my ex for a few months.
Henry would have been on his best behavior, reminding me why I had a soft spot for the big, power-lifting, panty-robbing idiot in the first place, and my heart would have released its death grip on the idea of Brendan and me becoming more than friends.
Because that’s all it is—an idea. A fantasy.
The reality is that Brendan is using me. Yes, I’ll be in a place to demand remodeling favors or anything else I want from him as soon as this weekend is over, but still…
I feel used.
And yucky.
And sad.
“Laura, you really are hopeless,” Chloe says, patting me on the leg.
I’m momentarily terrified that I’ve muttered something I was thinking aloud. But then, Chloe smiles and holds out her Bingo card. “Here, take mine and I’ll take yours. At this rate I’m going to beat you before we get to Boring, and that’s no fun.”
“Boring?” I hand over my nearly empty card with an apologetic grimace.
“It’s a town. We stop on the way to Thanksgiving every year,” Brendan offers from the front seat. It’s the first time he’s spoken since we left Portland, making me think I’m not the only one who feels like they’re marinating in pure awkwardness.
At least Chloe seems oblivious. Thank God.
The last thing I want to do is confuse the kid any more than she’s going to be confused once Brendan and I have to explain, somewhere down the line, why we’ve decided to stop kissing.
“And I get a T-shirt for my Boring T-shirt collection,” Chloe says, kicking her pink sneakers. “Last year it was ‘Boring! What an exciting place to live!’ This year I want to get the one with the sister city cartoons on it.”
“Dull, Scotland, and Bland, New South Wales, are the sister cities,” Brendan explains, making me laugh.
“Well, of course. They would be.” I glance up, catching Brendan watching me in the rearview mirror with an odd look on his face. Before I can figure out what the look means, his gaze is back on the road and he’s jabbing a finger toward the passenger’s side window. “Out there, Laura. Cows at three o’clock.”
“Daddy, stop, that’s cheating!” Chloe scowls at the back of Brendan’s head. “And besides, the cows are on my card now. I took Laura’s and she took mine. So you’re just messing up everything!”
“Aw, give him a break,” I say, a little surprised. I’ve never heard Chloe take such a hard line with Brendan before. She’s usually in full hero-worship mode when her dad’s around. “He was just trying to help.”
“Cheating isn’t helping.” Chloe transfers her glare to me. “It isn’t right and it’s against the rules.”
“Chloe has a thing about games and rules,” Brendan says. “Violations of rules bring out her bad side.”
Chloe harrumphs. “I don’t have a bad side. You have a bad side. Laura said so.”
My jaw drops. “What? I did not!”
“You did, too. You told Libby you were watching me because Daddy gets cranky if he has to be nice to people and look after me at the same time.”
I press my lips together, biting back the curse on the tip of my tongue. Damn it. I did say that. “Okay, you’re right. But in my defense, that was six months ago, and you were wearing headphones at the time. I thought I was safe.”
“You’re never safe with this one. She’s always listening.” Brendan’s eyes crinkle. “And don’t worry about it. I am cranky sometimes.”
I shake my head, flustered by his grin, even in a reflection. “True, but I’m still sorry. I never meant for Chloe to hear that.”
“It’s okay.” Chloe plucks a blue magnet from the open Bingo kit between us. “I’ve heard worse. Sometimes Daddy and Justin forget I’m watching television in the locker room, and Justin has a really bad potty mouth. He says the eff-word all the time. Oh, U-turn sign! One more for me.”
“Okay, that’s it.” I hold up my blue magnet. “This is about to get serious. You’re going down, Chloe. I feel a rest stop sign coming up any second now. Bingo is so close I can taste it.”
She giggles. “I don’t think so, but you can try.”
I force myself to pay attention to the game—much better than paying attention to the confusing, angst-inducing man in the front seat—but when we reach the exit for Boring ten minutes later, Chloe has Bingoed twice, and I still haven’t filled a single row.
At the tourism center, I slide out of the backseat into the chilly air, shaking my head and wondering if I have undiagnosed ADHD. I have twenty years and a college degree on Chloe. Surely I should be able to hold my own in a game of Bingo.
“Come on, Laura!” Chloe dashes for the door to the center, waving her hand urgently for me to follow. “I’ll show you which shirts I already h
ave in my collection.”
“Be right there,” I promise, fetching my sock hat from my purse and tugging it down over my ears.
“Don’t feel bad.” Brendan pauses near the front of the Cruiser to wait for me.
“I can’t help it. She kicked my butt. Hard. And the past fifteen minutes I was actually trying.”
He grins, his eyes glacier-blue and lovely in the morning light. “I meant about saying I was a cranky bastard. But don’t feel bad about Bingo, either. We drive this route five or six times a year. She has the signs memorized. She knew when she gave you her card that you weren’t going to be able to find a Bingo. It was a trap disguised as generosity.”
“That little sneak!” I cast an incredulous look toward the center, but the windows are reflective. I can’t see Chloe inside.
All I can see is a ridiculously handsome man in a thick brown sweater and jeans that are tight across the thighs, giving testimony to the powerful body hidden beneath his clothes, and a slim redhead with skin nearly the same shade as her white sweater and an oversize pom-pom sticking up above her head, making her look like an upside-down albino exclamation point.
Lord, I am out of my league with this man.
Even if he didn’t have a child and responsibilities he thinks I’m not equipped to handle, it would never work. I’m a 6—maybe a 7 on days when I’ve had a blow-out and time to devote to makeup—who earns enough to pay my bills. Brendan is a 10—9 on days when he makes scowling his full-time job—and his Cruiser costs more than I make in an entire year. He’s a famous professional athlete who owns a string of steakhouses and appears in local and national commercials for various companies that are willing to pay him big bucks to put his face, fame, and reputation behind their products. My sphere of influence includes the two women who work beneath me in the PR department and a few college interns I get to bully for a semester or two before they move on to bigger and better things.
We’re about as well matched as a rhino and one of those birds that hang out on their backs eating ticks.
But that wouldn’t matter if there were feelings involved. Love forgives a multitude of sins, and it couldn’t care less about money or fame. Or ticks.
