Why Him?: May December Romance (Mistaken Identities Book 1)

by Rie Warren

  “Aww, Mooooom.”

  She stared them down.

  Aiden stepped up. “Fine. We’ll pay you back when we get home?”

  Apparently Cady decided that was a fair trade, because she handed them five bucks each. And they whooped away to the games.

  “Damn, you’re a hard ass.” She impressed me more and more.

  “I have to be with three of them.”

  “What about their dad?”

  “Oh him? He’s a lying, cheating scoundrel.”

  “Fucking idiot,” I muttered.

  “He’s a pretty decent father though,” she added.

  “Still. He’s gotta be a dumbass to screw around on you.” I reached across to snag her hand in mine, but she quickly recoiled.

  I didn’t miss another blush painting her cheeks though.

  A waiter interrupted us to take our orders, which Cady placed before I could get a word in edgewise. She included a bottle of my usual brand of beer though.

  After the drinks arrived, she glanced at me, then away, then fiddled with her hair. “Did, um, the boys finish their homework and everything?”

  I couldn’t believe it. Cady Dalton was nervous?

  “Yes, ma’am.” I took a sip from my nice cold beer to hide my grin.

  Then the Supreme Queen of Cool kicked me in the shin under the table with her sharp-tipped gold-heeled stiletto.

  I stifled a grunt.

  She looked immediately apologetic, lips pursed together.

  I texted her:

  Keep that up darlin & I’ll lay you out flat on the floor in your house

  Her phone chimed.

  She looked at it.

  Her face flushed.

  I texted her again:

  Or I’m thinking about that kitchen island of yours with your legs spread wide so I can taste you the way I wanna

  Her hand fluttered to her breast before she turned a murderous glare on me. “I’m deleting that.”

  “Well, as long as you remember it.”

  As soon as the pizza and wings arrived, the boys descended like a pack of hungry wolves. The food was demolished down to the last crumb in record-breaking time. Cady alone still nibbled on her single slice and drank from her single glass of wine.

  I got up to take care of the check when the boys started getting rowdy, and Cady quickly whipped out her wallet. “I’ve got it.”

  “I don’t think so.” I pressed her money back at her.

  In the parking lot, she hung by my old Toyota Land Cruiser while Dane and Aiden argued about who got shotgun in her car. “Jude, do you have time to stop back at the house? I think there are some things we need to discuss if you’re serious about this.”

  “I’m all yours, whenever you need me.” I sailed her a wink that was bound to set her blood boiling.

  ****

  She met me on her porch, the boys safely inside, front door shut, leaving us in total privacy.

  Oh yeah. I liked where this was going.

  Until she said, “It’s time to lay down some ground rules.”

  “You and your rules.” Taking a seat on the wooden swing, I patted the spot next to me. “Lay ’em on me.”

  She perched beside me, refusing to meet my eyes. “Absolutely no more Thursdays.”

  I ran my arm across the back of the swing, fingers resting on her shoulder.

  She pushed me away. “I mean it. No. More. Sex. Understood?”

  “Whatever you say, darlin’.”

  “That has to stop too. The drawl, the darlin’ thing.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Sure. Catherine—I meant Cady—and her famous ground rules. BTDT and I was getting back in her bed any way I could. But I’d just agree for now.

  She finally looked at me, her big hazel eyes highlighted by the gas lamps on her porch. “Why are you doing this? Agreeing to look after my kids when you don’t even know me. Especially given your background.”

  “So you know about the injury now?” Just mentioning my fucked-up knee caused a pang.

  She nodded.

  “My time in the NFL is definitely done.”

  “I’m sorry about that.” Her voice softer, she placed her hand on my leg, and I covered it with my own.

  “Me too. But that’s life, right? And believe it or not, I like kids. I’m good with them. If you looked me up, you know my degree’s in secondary education. Something to fall back on that I enjoy.” I twined my fingers through hers, compelling her gaze to mine. “I like your kids, and I wanna get to know you. I couldn’t believe it was you this morning. I mean—holy shit—what are the chances?”

  “Pretty slim.” She slowly disentangled her fingers from mine. “Did you know I was lying all these months?”

  “You weren’t lying exactly. Except for your name. By the way, I like Cady better.” I ran a fingertip along the side of her jaw, letting my thumb brush her lips lightly. Just once before she could pull away. “I could tell you’d been, or were, married, but your boys or any of that stuff . . . I had no idea.”

  “We should talk about money.”

  When she moved onto business, I recognized her defense mechanism. “Yeah. No. I’m not really doing it for the money.”

  “I can’t let you take care of my obnoxious children without compensating you.”

  “Sure you can. I volunteer.”

  “You’re exasperating.”

  “You still like me though.” I watched her closely.

  And when she didn’t deny it, I very slowly, very carefully, drew her into my arms.

  Her head whipped up. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Shut up. I’m cashing in on my raincheck.”

  My lips touched hers, muffling any other words. As soon as our mouths met, her moan escaped. My tongue teased across her lips, dancing lightly. I waited for her arms to circle me, and when they did, her hands tangled in my hair. Then I drove in deep, the kiss beyond all belief.

  Hot, deep.

  Long and slow.

  When I drifted back, her eyes opened. Gold flecks sparkled in her irises, and her lips looked wet and luscious.

  Standing up, I caressed the side of her face. “G’night, Cady Dalton.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Cady

  SATURDAY MORNING AFTER THE boys left with Gregory, I was faced with a thoroughly empty, completely silent house. The pool beckoned out back, but I always felt guilty just chilling out. There was laundry to wash, errands to run, emails to check . . . and the never-ending list went on.

  In fact, the only time in recent months I’d fully relaxed—in an entirely different way—were those evenings spent with Jude in Room 27.

  Dane, Luke, and Aiden had been interesting about Jude last night when I’d finally shooed Jude off my porch, after they’d come to grips with having a former, incredibly talented wide receiver, apparently one of their collective sports heroes, as a manny.

  “Did he curse in front of you?” I’d asked.

  “Mom, seriously. He did the whole language thing just like you. It was annoying.” Aiden handed me the five dollars he owed me for the arcade games at the restaurant. “But he’s pretty cool.”

  “A bunch of chicks were checking him out at football though,” Luke had added.

  I had noticed that myself. The moms panting all over him. And much to my chagrin, I hadn’t been able to ignore a spike of jealousy, which was only relieved when Jude aimed a huge grin my way.

  “Bet he gets laid on the regular.” Luke threw himself onto the sofa next to me.

  “Luke James Dalton. I swear to—”

  “But no swearing, Mom.” He’d slipped his five bucks into my hand, an impish grin in place.

  “Jude’s just a normal dude, Mom.” Dane had reluctantly counted five dollars worth of quarters into my palm, not willing to pay back his arcade debt in actual bills.

  “And you’re a savant.” Aiden dodged forward and smacked Dane on the back of his head.

  “You’re just jealous about the
size of my brains, fapper.”

  The conversation had quickly devolved after that.

  The regular dude was a sports celebrity who’d been keeping just as many secrets as I had, apparently. I couldn’t deny the thrill of being openly pursued by him even though he now knew I was a divorcee with three children. But there was no future for us—he was too young and completely unsuitable.

  My once-a-week, no-strings-attached assignation was over.

  Then he’d had to go and kiss me. The hot, indecent vibe between us exploded in an instant. I wanted his body. I wanted his cock. I wanted him to make me come, because he always reduced me to a wet quivering begging mess. Jude exuded an undeniably masculine sexual control, and I ached for him to fuck me after just . . . one . . . kiss.

  The kiss last night that had again ignited nonstop arousal to the point I’d thought about getting myself off like he’d suggested just to get some relief. Some release.

  I hadn’t fingered myself. But Jude didn’t know I owned a vibrator, and I’d been known to use it. Too bad I’d been spoiled by his exquisitely raw rough need that called to mine.

  Hence the morning after, the only thing I could think of to keep my mind off what I wouldn’t be getting anymore was a good old-fashioned cleaning spree.

  Yeah. My life was oh-so-glamorous.

  Pulling pink rubber gloves up to my elbows, I girded myself to conquer the boys’ bathroom, which usually consisted of a rank mess of dirty clothes, urine stains from where they missed, and a sink encrusted with globs of toothpaste. I pinched my nose, prepared to duck and cover, and rounded the doorway.

  To be confronted with what could only be described as a sparkling, glistening, 100% boy-germ free bathroom.

  My mouth dropped open.

  My eyes popped open.

  I unplugged my nose.

  Then the doorbell rang. Early. Again.

  Yanking off the rubber gloves, I pulled my hair into a ponytail, wiping wisps off my face.

  “Still don’t want any religion!” I shouted, hopping down the stairs.

  I slung the door open.

  And there stood Jude.

  Again.

  Looking just as tasty as always in athletic shorts and a muscle shirt, his stubble even heavier this morning. His dark hair clung in waves to his forehead and at the back of his neck, and his indecent grin was firmly in place.

  I felt like a messy hausfrau, in a pair of scruffy old flip-flops, a tank top, and cut offs. “It’s Saturday.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “The boys are with their dad.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not Thursday either.”

  “Will there ever be another Thursday?”

  “I’m cleaning toilets.”

  “Sexy.” He tucked his sunglasses into the neck of his shirt. “Want some help?”

  “Wait a second. Did you clean their disgusting bathroom yesterday?” Which made me wonder what else he might’ve gotten up to—or into—while having free rein of my house.

  My bedroom. My closet. My dressers. My vibrator.

  “Nah.” When he raised his arm to brace it against the doorframe, his tawny bicep bulged in the most delicious way. “I made the boys do it.”

  “How?”

  “Told them you work like crazy, and it was time for them to man the hell up.”

  I squinted at him.

  He redoubled his sexy grin. “So, want some help cleaning or do you wanna come with me?”

  “Why would I go anywhere with you?”

  “Because I’m offerin’ to take you to lunch on this fine September day.”

  “Don’t you have a bunch of babes waiting in the wings to tag along with you, Rally Raleigh?”

  I recognized the smug look on his face when he said, “So you did more than Google me.”

  “Joelle did. My paralegal.”

  “I Googled you too.”

  Hah. He’d probably fapped over me too.

  “I’m not on TMZ,” I countered. “Or Deadspin. Or anywhere on Twitter.”

  “Lucky for you.” Dropping his hand from the doorframe, he gathered my palm in his bigger rougher one. “Look, Cady. I’m not a playboy—”

  I jerked my hand back in disbelief.

  “Not anymore anyway. It’s just you. It’s all you. And I wanna do something nice. Just for you.”

  “You’re so damn aggravating.”

  “Not what you say every Thursday.”

  I fluttered my hands in annoyance.

  “So you’ll come with?”

  I gave in, because I liked him. I liked the flirting. I liked his determination.

  I liked his damn body.

  And I didn’t really want to spend a lonely Saturday contemplating the most boring to-do list on earth, not when there was a much better option to be had.

  “Ground rules still apply.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The gorgeous man smirked so hard, I was tempted to kiss it right off his face.

  ****

  After a short ride through the crosstown and over the bridges in Jude’s rumbling beast of a truck, he pulled up in front of a house on one of Charleston’s many saltwater creeks. The property sat far away from any others in a quiet, private area of James Island, and the shell driveway crunched under the tires.

  The surroundings—overgrown magnolias and giant rosemary bushes and Spanish moss—opened to a house on stilts with a tall front staircase.

  “This is yours?” I asked when he hurried around to help me out of the truck.

  “Yeah.” His dark blue eyes sparkled like the creek meandering on the other side of the house. “Got a roommate though. Someone I want you to meet.”

  Roommate?

  Damn. Having read up on his past escapades, knowing him it was a playmate. The man probably had a woman stowed in every pocket.

  Although why he’d want me to meet his bed bunny . . . unless it was to blow me off . . .

  Jude ushered me up the two-tiered wooden stairs, into an airy screened-off porch, then into a masculinely appointed house. All sand colors and leather sofas and one gigantic fireplace. Everything neat and tidy and in its place.

  “Hey, Skunk!” Jude called out.

  I heard the click clack clatter on polished floorboards before a dog careened through the living room and straight into Jude’s legs.

  “That’s the roommate?”

  Skunk raised up on dancing hind legs, setting massive paws on Jude’s chest and panting in his face.

  Jude laughed from deep inside. “One of ’em.”

  “I thought we were having lunch.” But I smiled, unable to do anything but reach out to caress the dog’s silky ears.

  “We’ll get to that in a minute.”

  “Skunk though?”

  “Look at him.” Jude pushed the black and white canine down. “Got him as a rescue. Half Mastiff and half Husky. Damn pitiful thing.”

  The beast whined until Jude kneeled down, kissing and scratching him, and I was jealous of a vermin-colored furry mutt.

  “That you, Jude?” A gruff male voice called from another part of the first level.

  “Someone I want you to meet,” Jude said to me while he tapped the dog on his backside, making him sit. “Besides Skunk.”

  An older man with a shock of silver and black hair entered the room with an awkward gait. He had the brightest blue eyes.

  He had Jude’s eyes.

  “Dad, this is Cady.”

  The rugged man—Jude’s father—shuffled up to us.

  “Cady, my dad, Rawls.”

  He clasped my hand in a tremulous grip. “Sorry. It’s that damn Parkinson’s thing. I ain’t so smooth with the ladies anymore.”

  “That’s quite all right. Neither is Jude.”

  Rawls guffawed, and I saw the younger man he must’ve been, very much like Jude.

  Jude snorted.

  And the fact he’d brought me to his home to meet his ailing dad made him all too real again.

  I spun toward
Jude. “Why aren’t you taking care of him instead of my family?”

  “I am. I do. But—”

  “Jude ain’t s’posed to waste his life on me. Anyway, he sucks as a nurse.” Rawls let Skunk nip at his shaking fingers, getting them all slobbery. “So you’re the girl—”

  “The woman,” Jude interjected

  “What did you tell him?” I hissed.

  “All about your three sons.” Rawls took up a beautifully polished wooden cane, his head jerking toward the scenically sparkling creek outside. “But if there’s more, I damn sure wanna hear ’bout it. Shall we? ’Cause I hear we’re havin’ a picnic.”

  Minutes later, we gathered down on a dock that pointed out like a silvery wooden arrow into the glistening waters. Jude and I had taken the stairs, Rawls an elevator from inside. And Skunk had beaten us all to the pristine and peaceful picnic spot where Jude laid out a blanket after settling his dad into a weathered chair that rocked on sliders when he set it in motion.

  Then I watched as Jude sat cross-legged, inviting me beside him, and began unpacking a picnic basket while the glorious sun basked us in warmth. A pure white crane picked its way across the marsh while a flock of hook-beaked ibis pecked here and there. Reeds in rust red and pale green swayed with the tidal waterway.

  Fiddler crabs scurried across the mud flats before burrowing back into their holes.

  And Jude had packed sandwiches, fruit, a lemon tart.

  He handed out the food—not before he cut his dad’s into easy-to-eat squares.

  Damn man even had my favorite wine chilled and ready as well as a wineglass.

  He poured.

  I leaned back on my elbows, letting the sun hit my face. I breathed in the briny scent. I listened to the silence only broken by the sounds of nature.

  When I looked up, Jude watched me.

  Rawls watched Jude.

  My face heating, I quickly picked up a sandwich.

  Even the food was heavenly. “You did not make this.”

  Rawls snorted. “Hell no. Jude can catch a football like his fingers’re made of Velcro. Top Chef he ain’t.”

  “Thanks for that, Dad.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” Rawls never missed a beat, illness or not.

  He drank a beer from a lidded plastic cup complete with a straw.

  After taking a long draught, he grinned with the same dimples as Jude. “When I gets to spillin’, ever’one needs to take cover. I’m not so good at dominoes anymore either.”