by Cathryn Fox
“Right,” Callan says, and grabs a drink glass from the cupboard. He turns on the tap and runs it until it’s cold.
Kaitlyn glances around. “Is the pizza ready?” Callan hands her a tall glass of water and she gulps it. My hand goes to my stomach as I watch her, a sense of longing building inside me.
“Not yet,” Callan says.
“Can Liam have pizza with us?” she asks as she hands the drink glass back.
Callan shrugs. “I guess. If it’s okay with his mother.”
“It’s okay with her,” Kaitlyn says and swipes the back of her hand over her mouth, wiping away the traces of ice cream and water on her face.
“How do you know that?” Callan asks.
“We already asked her.”
He arches a brow at me. “You okay with Liam coming over?”
“Of course. I love kids and two is much easier than thirty.”
“I can’t even imagine.” Callan laughs and shakes his head. “Fine, he can come for pizza. I’ll call you both when it’s ready. Remember the rules. Do not go on the road.”
She gives an exasperated sigh. “I’m not a baby.”
“Oh, I know,” Callan says and cracks the beers. The door slams shut as he fills our glasses and hands one to me.
“You do have your hands full.”
“Like I said, six going on thirteen.”
“Good thing she has a big strong daddy to frighten all the boys off.”
“A big strong daddy who owns a gun.”
I laugh at that. “I pity the boys who ask her out when she’s older.”
“You should,” he jokes and opens his pantry. He pulls out flour and sugar and some other things, and I kick my legs out as I watch him. Warmth moves through me, probably from the beer—I am such a light-weight—but the truth is, I haven’t relaxed in a long time. Everything about this place screams love, home and heart. It’s so easy to be here.
With all the ingredients laid out, he plugs his kettle in, picks his beer back up and steps toward me. He holds his glass up in salute.
“What are we celebrating?” I ask.
“How about old friendships,” he says, bending to tap his glass to mine. I try not to notice his closeness or the way it overwhelms me. For a brief second I consider his overprotective nature. Brad might think twice about harassing me if Callan was by my side. Yeah, Brad would probably tuck tail and run the other way—bully that he is. Not that I’m about to ask Callan to come to the Cape for the weekend, or pretend to be my boyfriend for the duration. That’s completely ludicrous, right?
Or is it?
3
Callan
“Okay, Liam, time to get you home,” I say after we all finish eating. I stand and take our plates to the sink.
Kaitlyn pouts. “I don’t want him to go.”
“You have to get packed for you grandparents, Kaitlyn, remember?” Her eyes light up. “But first we walk Liam home.”
Gemma wipes her mouth with the paper napkin, stands and brings a few more dishes to the counter. “I can stay here and help Kaitlyn get packed while you go.”
I hesitate for a second. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put you out.”
Too bad. I’d love to put out.
My God, who said that?
“I want Miss Davis to help me pack,” Kaitlyn says.
Gemma reaches for Kaitlyn’s hand and my heart twists in an odd little way as my daughter slides her hand into Gemma’s. “I really don’t mind.”
“Okay,” I say as Liam jumps from his chair.
“See you later, Kaitlyn,” he says, and walks to the door.
“You guys can hang out again when we get back,” I tell Liam as we leave the house. I walk two houses down, and he rushes inside. His mother pokes her head out.
“Thanks for having him for dinner,” Danielle says to me.
“No problem. He’s a great kid.” She has an odd little grin on her face. “Something wrong?” I ask.
“No, I just…well, Kaitlyn said Miss. Davis was having pizza with you guys.”
I nod. No hiding your business with a six-year-old. “Miss Davis, or rather Gemma, is an old friend of mine. We go way back.”
She leans against her doorway, like she’s in no hurry to leave and normally I’d spend a few minutes talking. Tonight however, I’m a little anxious to get back home and it’s not because I’ve left my daughter with someone new.
“I think that’s nice,” she says, and I stifle a groan. Cripes, come tomorrow morning I’m sure I’ll be the talk of the neighborhood.
“We’re just old friends,” I tell her.
“Well, you never know,” she says.
“What don’t I know?” I ask and wish I hadn’t.
Her smile is coy, and a bit hopeful. “What starts innocently enough…”
I hold my hand up to stop her. “Night, Danielle,” I say and turn. Having Gemma at the house has no doubt raised suspicions, considering I’ve not had a woman who wasn’t family, or a babysitter, or a firefighter at the house in...ever. Basically, I’ve not had a woman at the house that was there for me.
Whoa, what?
Gemma is not there for me, per se. We’re just old friends getting caught up and I wanted to spend more time with her after getting a bad feeling about her ex-boyfriend.
“Just think about it,” she calls after me and in my heart, I know she means well. The people in my neighborhood are kind and caring, always wanting to introduce me to their friends, or relatives, but my personal life is my own business and I plan to keep it that way.
Music seeps from the open windows and reaches my ears as I approach the house, and breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as old memories come rushing back. I grip the paint-chipped handrail and hold for a second, the music taking me back to happier times—when Zoe was the one at that piano. Kaitlyn’s squeal of laugher rises over the music and wraps around my heart.
I suck in a fast breath and dart up the three steps. I round the corner and find Gemma and Kaitlyn at the piano. The sight stabs my heart. Gemma’s head lifts, and her smile falls from her face the second she sees me.
“Sorry, we got sidetracked.” She stands quickly. “I’ll help Kaitlyn pack and get going.”
I shake my head and put my hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Why don’t you two keep playing? I’ll pack Kaitlyn’s stuff.”
“Thank you, Daddy,” Kaitlyn yells out.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
She gives a small nod and tentatively sits down again. I dash up the stairs, and happy music fills the house and my soul as I pack my daughter’s bag and run the tub. I head back downstairs and find the two laughing as Gemma teaches her basic notes.
“All set for your bath kiddo.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You run up and have your bath,” Gemma says as she checks her watch, and I ignore the heavy feeling in my chest. “I have to get going anyway.”
“Give us a few minutes,” I say. “Her bath won’t take long. Why don’t you pour yourself a glass of wine, and flick the TV on? We haven’t really had a chance to catch up.”
She hesitates, a line in her forehead as Kaitlyn jumps up and dashes up the stairs. “I suppose.” She snorts out a humorless laugh. “I don’t really have to rush home for anything. It’s not a school night.”
“It’s settled then. Grab a beer or a wine, and I’ll just be a few minutes.”
I stand there for a second as she stands and saunters into the kitchen. The second she’s out of my sight, I hurry upstairs, and Kaitlyn is undressing for her bath.
“Daddy,” she begins as I help her into the warm water.
“Yeah.”
“I really like Miss Davis. She’s nice.”
“She is nice, isn’t she? Did you know that we used to go to school together? Many years ago.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Really?”
“Yup, just like you and Liam are in the same class, Miss Davis and I were
too.”
“That’s funny.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Can she have dinner with us every night?”
“I don’t know about that. She has her own place and she has things to do.”
“I like that she’s going to be at the Boys and Girls club. She’s always nice to me.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I don’t like Mrs. Follows. She’s grumpy.”
I bite back a chuckle. There’s not a thing wrong with Mrs. Follows, she’s just older and is a little more regimented than the volunteer teachers at the club.
I give her a washcloth and she proceeds to clean herself. Once she’s finished soaping up, she rinses off and I wrap a big towel around her and lift her from the tub. She squeals as I hold her up over my head and fly her to her bed.
I make an airplane sound as I lower her to her bed, and she tugs on the pajamas I laid out for her.
Once she’s dressed, I read her a book, give her a kiss and leave her room. In the hall I take a big breath, and I can’t figure out why I’m suddenly nervous about the idea of spending alone time with Gemma.
The soft sound of the TV reaches my ears as I descend the steps and her mess of hair, now unclipped falls down her back as she does something with her phone.
“Hey,” I say quietly, and she turns, a glass of white wine in her hand and a beer on the table for me.
“I opened a bottle,” she says, setting her phone down. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all.” I glance at the TV. “What are you watching?”
“Not much on. Found a chick flick.” She crinkles her nose, an apologetic look on her face. “Probably not your thing, right?”
“There are one of two things you’ll find on in this place. Cartoons, or big action flicks.”
“I’ll change it.” She reaches for the remote, but I cross the room and put my hand over hers to stop her. The second our hands connect, a burst of heat zaps through me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop my dick from twitching. What the hell is going on with me?
“It’s okay, we can watch it,” I tell her and her dark eyes, full of something that looks like desire, something that is no doubt reflected in mine, go wide.
“Are you sure?”
“It will do me good to watch something other than explosions and violence.”
“You don’t get that enough in your day-to-day life?” she asks.
I laugh, but it comes out sounding rough and tortured. “Apparently not.”
She snuggles back into the sofa. “Okay then. This is one of my favorites.”
I pick up my beer and take a long pull from the bottle. It’s cold and refreshing but the only thing that’s going to cool my dick down is if I dip it into the brew. I sit back, and catch a sidelong glance of her, a small smile on her face as she focuses her attention on the TV. When I recognize the male lead’s voice—I’m used to seeing him in action flicks—I turn. “What are we watching, anyway?”
“The Proposal. It’s my favorite.”
“What’s your favorite? The show or Ryan Reynolds?” I ask and she grins.
Outside, the sun sets on the horizon, and the streets go quiet as everyone settles themselves in for the night. I jump up to close the window and sneeze when a breeze blows in.
“You must be getting a cold,” Gemma says.
“Allergies. It’s that time of year. I better start taking my meds.”
I grab another beer, sit back down and when a commercial comes on, I turn to Gemma. “What do you guys do at this Davis weekend, anyway?”
She turns my way, and when I notice her glass is empty, I jump up, and get the bottle from the kitchen. As I refill her glass she says, “Oh, we have a barbecue, swim, play games.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It usually is. Just…”
“Brad?”
“Yeah?”
She turns back to the commercial, effectively cutting me off, and I let it go for the time being. Her ex is a sore spot, and I suspect there is more going on than she wants to say. I sit next to her, fully aware of her presence for the rest of the movie. It’s hard to concentrate when she chuckles or makes those little breathy sounds when something romantic happens. She’s definitely a romantic at heart.
The final credits come on and Gemma flicks the TV off. She exhales slowly, and that’s when I realize I can’t drive her home for two reasons. One, my daughter is asleep and even if I did call the neighbor over to watch her for a few minutes, two, I’ve had a couple drinks.
“I should get going. I have to pack tonight too and head to the Cape.” She gives a very unenthusiastic, “Yay,” then shakes her head and groans. “I love my family, I really do. I hate that I’m not looking forward to going.”
“It’s understandable. Your ex will be there and that makes it awkward.”
“His family, my family, they all go way back,” she says with a frown. “I just wish he understood that we’re over. I stayed with him too long as it was,” she mumbles, and her eyes go wide, like she said too much, but I’m beginning to get a clearer picture of Brad here, and I don’t like it one little bit.
“I was just thinking.” I glance out at the dark night. “Maybe you should stay the night.” Her eyes go big again and I quickly clarify. “I just mean it’s late, and,” I point to my empty beer bottles. “I didn’t think before I had a couple drinks. I’m not used to having women over and driving them home.”
“I can get an Uber,” she says, and stretches out, but she doesn’t look like she’s in any hurry to leave.
“Yeah, but you know. I’m not really comfortable with that. If I can’t see you home safely, and personally, then I’d rather you’d stay.” I stifle a sneeze again, and gesture toward the stairs. “I can drive you home in the morning, on the way to Kaitlyn’s grandparents’ house.”
“It is late,” she says. “I don’t really have any reason to rush home.” She looks down for a moment, and I sense the loneliness in her. I understand it, perfectly.
“I have a spare toothbrush and some clothes you can wear.” Her face pales and I instantly realize she’s thinking I mean Zoe’s. “My clothes,” I say. “They’ll be big on you, but no one will see, but you.”
“I guess,” she says. “You don’t think Kaitlyn will mind…or get the wrong idea?”
“She’s six. The only ones who might get the wrong idea are my neighbors and believe me they’d be thrilled.”
I stand and pull her up with me.
“Thrilled?”
“They’re always trying to set me up. When I dropped Liam off, his mother basically gave me the winky-wink and thumbs up.”
She laughs. “I guess we’re definitely going to give them something to talk about.”
“Big time.” She follows me up the stairs and into my bedroom. I pull open my dresser and grab her a clean t-shirt. I toss it on the bed and grab a pair of sweat shorts with a drawstring from my closet. I hand them to her.
“Did you tell them we were just friends?” she asks as she stifles a yawn. “That we go way back?”
I snort. “Yeah, but they have their own theory on that.”
“Oh, like friends with benefits,” she says with a laugh that sounds a little hoarse, and my dick twitches as it encourages me to go for it. I’m not looking for a relationship, and she doesn’t seem to be, either. Friends with benefits, however.
Whoa, where did that come from?
“Let them talk, Gemma. Maybe it will stop them from trying to set me up.”
She picks the clothes up and holds them against her body. “All right then. Let’s give them something to talk about.” Her smile falls off. “I don’t mean literally. I just mean—”
“I know what you mean,” I say. I back out of the room. “I’ll leave a spare toothbrush out for you and in the morning, I’m making waffles.”
She laughs, totally getting the joke. “That’ll do donkey,” she says to my reference to the children’s movie.
Her laugh follows me down the hall as I make a quick trip to the bathroom, take a couple of allergy pills and check on Kaitlyn. I drop down onto the sofa and sprawl out. I wake up sniffing from allergies, and completely foggy-brained, going to the kitchen for a drink of water. Still half asleep I groggily climb the stairs and crawl back into bed.
4
Gemma
A strange noise in the distance pulls me awake. My lids fly open, my heart beating double time in my chest as the last fragment of my erotic dream drifts away. I glance around the dark room and try to get my bearings.
Callan’s room.
I relax against the soft mattress as my hot body practically vibrates, my dream coming back to me in heated flashes. I close my eyes again, wanting to go back to my fantasy world as the images play out in my mind’s eye. I honestly can’t believe I was dreaming of my old friend, his mouth on my body, kissing a path to the needy juncture between my legs. A low groan crawls out of my throat, and a movement beside me has me going still.
What is going on?
I stiffen at first, thinking I’m imagining things. Maybe I hadn’t run into Callan today—literally. Maybe that was just wishful thinking and I’m actually back in my own bed, and it’s Brad shifting beside me. A violent quake goes through me, and a burst of panic grips my stomach as air wheezes from my lungs.
“Gemma?”
The sound of Callan’s voice instantly puts me at ease. I inhale a relieved breath and place my hands over my chest to still my racing heart. Wait, what is he doing in bed with me?
“Gemma, are you okay?” The nightstand lamp flicks on, bathing the room in soft light. Callan’s blue eyes narrow in on me. He blinks, then frowns as he glances around his dark room. “How did I get here?”
I laugh softly. “I don’t know. Maybe you were sleepwalking and habit brought you to this bed.”
His lips curl in a soft smile as he pushes the blankets off his shoulders. “I took a couple allergy pills. That’s probably exactly what happened. I’m sorry. I’ll get out of here.” He shifts and the blankets hover around his stomach, giving me a view of his near naked body.
