by JB Heller
“The wedding is only a month away, Seb. I need to get the numbers to the caterers this week, so if you’re going to bring someone, I kinda need to know sooner rather than later.”
I nod. “I know. I’ll think about it. Okay?”
Storm smiles. “Thank you. And who knows? Maybe seeing you with someone else might give Jayla the kick up the ass she needs to realize what a catch you are.”
“I honestly don’t give a shit what she thinks of me anymore,” I say. And I mean it. She made her choice, and I made mine. I have zero regrets.
“Baaaaaaaash,” Everly calls from the living room.
Storm grins and waves me off. “You better go see what she wants before she comes and gets you.”
An hour passes before I’m done helping Ever with her dollhouse, and we’ve had lunch, and I can finally text Emory back. I’m kicking back on my bed, ankles crossed, ready to see how far I can push her.
ME: Are you sure it wasn’t you who wants to know if I’m good in the sack? It seemed like something you’d ask.
Again, her reply is immediate.
EMORY: Okay, so, not going to lie, it is totally something I’d say. But not to an author I’m interviewing. Especially one who has already accused me of being unprofessional.
I grin, liking that she’s being so honest.
ME: So, you do want to know about my sexual prowess or you don’t?
EMORY: I’m pretty sure I already know.
ME: Oh, really? How’s that?
EMORY: You’re forgetting I’ve read Drown with Me. You can’t write sex that hot and umm—okay, I’m just going to say it—stimulating if you can’t deliver. Or maybe you can and I’m just hoping it’s the former.
The fact that she found the sex scenes in my book not only hot, but stimulating, is hot in itself. I reach down and rearrange my junk because, clearly, my dick likes this too.
ME: Is there a reason you’re hoping I’m as good in reality as I am on paper?
This time, her response takes longer to come through.
Did I go too far? Scratching my temple with my free hand, I slide my thumb over my cell screen, about to apologize for what I just said, when her reply comes through.
EMORY: Let’s just say I have an unfortunate weakness for assholes. And you, sir, fit the bill.
Well, fuck me five ways to Sunday. Her response has me grinning like a fool, and my dick is doing a happy dance in my pants.
The way I see it, I’ve already blown any chance of Sebastian seeing me in a professional light, so I may as well be myself. I mean, this interview is going to benefit his career more than mine, so if he’s put off by my hot-mess self, then fine. I can do a regular style of write-up on Drown with Me without his input.
SEBASTIAN: Well, in that case, I am phenomenal in bed. Not to brag or anything, but I satisfy myself on the regular.
I burst out laughing, pleased he’s as funny as he is assholeish.
ME: Hmm, I’m not sure that self-love counts.
SEBASTIAN: Why not? You have to love yourself in order to love someone else, right?
ME: Indeed, but that’s not the kind of lovin’ I was inquiring about…
SEBASTIAN: Oh, well, in that case…
SEBASTIAN: I’ve never received any complaints. In fact, my long-term ex told me flat-out the reason she stayed with me for so long was because of my killer moves in the bedroom.
Wow. What a bitch. I’m actually a little pissed on his behalf. What kind of person says that? My thumbs fly over my cell screen as I reply.
ME: She sounds lovely. But her loss is your hand’s gain.
SEBASTIAN: Bahahaha. That it is.
ME: You must have been a real unbearable prick if she was willing to give up the good stuff.
SEBASTIAN: Honestly, I think that was the problem. I wasn’t enough of a prick. She didn’t like my day job and accused me of being unambitious. She wanted me to be as driven in the ‘real world’ as I am in bed.
There is so much going on in that one text that I’m not sure what part to tackle first. I was joking about him being an unbearable prick… kind of. But his ex sounds like a real piece of work. The guy is a caregiver, for goodness’ sake. That’s pretty damn amazing in my book.
Then there’s the ‘as driven in life as in bed’ comment. I think he threw that in to lighten the conversation, but it also sounds like it bears truth.
SEBASTIAN: That was a little heavy, huh? Sorry about that. We can go back to discussing my superior sexing skills now.
My smile is instantaneous. This guy.
ME: It’s all good. I just want to say, your ex sounds like an A-grade bitch. Now, we can return to your dick. You may carry on informing me of his unparalleled abilities.
SEBASTIAN: You know, I’ve just had an excellent idea. How would you feel about doing me a favor? In return, I would, of course, owe you a favor of similar value.
“What’s that look about?” Kins asks, scaring the absolute crap out of me.
I throw my phone in the air and clutch my racing heart. “Where the hell did you come from?” I gasp.
Kinsley and Atticus stand side by side at the end of the couch, each holding a glass of wine. They exchange a quizzical look then Kins says, “We got in a few minutes ago. You were so engrossed in your phone that you didn’t hear us.”
“Oh,” I murmur.
Atticus is grinning like he knows something I don’t, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“What?” I snap.
“Nothing,” he says, sliding his free arm around Kins’ waist.
She smiles up at him and leans into his side. “So,” she says, “what was that look about? Who are you texting?”
“Oh, umm…” I nibble on my bottom lip for a moment then tell them, “The author I’m interviewing. The one I told you about, who made me get up before the sun the other day.”
Kinsley’s eyes widen. She pulls away from Atticus and drops onto the couch beside me, clamping a hand over my knee. “Are you into women now? How did I not know this?”
Atticus chokes on his wine. He coughs, his eyes watering as his fist thumps against his broad chest. “Sorry,” he says when he’s regained control of himself. “Ah, should I leave you two alone or…?”
I throw my head back and laugh.
Kins frowns. “Why are you laughing?”
“I’m just going to, ah… I’ll wait in your room, Kins,” Atticus says, then he turns and strides toward the short hallway that leads to our bedrooms.
“S. Bailey,” I chuckle, “is a man.”
“Oh,” Kins murmurs. “I thought you said you were meeting up with a woman…”
I grin and nod. “I did. I had no idea he was a he until I got there.”
“So, just to be clear, you’re not into chicks?” my roomie asks, a skeptical look on her pretty face. “’Cause that would be totally fine. You know Lenny and I wouldn’t judge you.”
Rolling my eyes, I pass her my phone, showing her my text thread. “His name is Sebastian, and as you can see, he is the proud owner of a penis.”
Kins’ eyes scan my cell screen as she reads our conversation, a smile slowly rising on her lips. “Well, okay then,” she finally says, handing my phone back to me. “Now I’m wondering if you’re interviewing him as a potential boyfriend or as an author?”
I shrug and smirk. “Why not both?”
It takes Emory a hell of a lot longer than usual to reply to my proposal, and I haven’t even told her what it is yet. Maybe it was stupid to think that just because she’s flirting with me over text that she’d be willing to do me a favor.
I scratch at the scruff on my jaw then adjust my glasses. I’m tempted to tell her to forget about it, but I don’t. If she says yes, it will get Storm off my back and give me someone to rub in Jayla’s face.
My bedroom door bangs open, and Everly’s little body climbs up the end of the bed, then she body-slams me. “Wake up! Wake up, Bash!” She giggles as I pretend to be sound asleep.
�
��Baaashhhh,” she calls right in my face, her itty-bitty hands clutching at my cheeks. “Wake up!”
I pop my eyes open at the same time as I dig my fingers into her ribs and tickle her. She squeals and throws her head back, then she attempts to wriggle away from me.
When I finally stop tickling Ever, she sighs contentedly and snuggles into my side. “You’re da best, Bash,” she says, smiling up at me.
I could never give this up.
I’m about to dive back into tickling her when my phone dings with a new text. I roll to my side and pick it up from the floor where it fell after Ever body-slammed me. Emory’s name on the screen has a new kind of smile curving my lips.
EMORY: I’m down, depending on what exactly the favor entails. Also, I get to determine the value of said favor.
SEBASTIAN: Meet me on Monday. We can go over the details in person.
EMORY: I can do Monday, but I am not getting up with the sun again.
SEBASTIAN: Fine, you can meet me at my place. 148 Cusack Cres. Can I safely assume 9 a.m. is a reasonable time for you?
EMORY: Ugh, fine. I suppose that’s doable.
I grin then drop my phone back to the floor and roll over to resume tickle-torture on little Miss Everly, who screeches as I approach.
Monday morning arrives faster than I’d thought it would. Storm kept me busy on Sunday, helping her and Jake pick out random shit for the wedding, like place cards and the right color for the napkins.
Now, I’m home with the girls, waiting for Emory to arrive. I’m a little nervous about her coming here and seeing who exactly I care for. I’m a grown-ass man who spends his days with a baby and a mini diva. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed of what I do. Helping raise these girls is one of the most important jobs in the world, in my opinion. But I know not everyone sees it that way, and that’s plaguing me right now.
I fidget with a loose thread on the hem of my shirt as her possible reactions run through my mind.
“Sit still!” Ever chastises me, and I roll my eyes.
We’re playing beauty shop, and she’s doing my hair as I sit on the floor in front of the couch. Hazel is holding onto my fingers as she stands between my bent knees. She’ll be walking on her own soon, and I am not looking forward to it.
The doorbell rings, and both the girls’ heads swivel toward the sound. Ever is off the couch and running before I even have a chance to get to my feet. By the time I reach the front door, Ever has already let Emory inside.
“Ever, what have I told you about answering the door?” I say firmly, frowning down at her.
She shrugs as though she has no idea what I’m talking about. I arch a brow, and she sighs, “I not aspose to open the door.”
“Exactly,” I say, shaking my head.
“But you telled me your friend was coming to bisit us,” she rebuts.
Little smartass. I shift my focus to a stunned Emory. “Hi,” I say, smiling.
Her blue eyes go from me, to Hazel in my arms, then down to Ever, and back to me. She blinks several times then says, “I didn’t know you had kids.”
I clear my throat and gesture along the hallway with my free hand. “Come in. Do you want a coffee or anything?”
She frowns and shakes her head. “No, I’m fine.”
Emory silently follows me to the living room. “Have a seat,” I tell her, and she does, eyeing me cautiously.
I go to sit beside her on the couch, but Ever climbs into my spot and points to the floor. “I’m not done. Your hair isn’t pwetty yet.” Then, she turns her attention to Emory, her eyes fixating on all that wavy red hair of hers. She reaches out and strokes it.
Clearing my throat, I make the introductions I now realize I should have made at the front door. “Ever, this is my friend, Emory. Emory, these are my nieces, Everly and Hazel.”
Relief washes over Emory’s face as I correct her assumption that the girls are mine. Then she smiles. “Hi,” she says to Ever, who is still stroking her hair.
Resuming my position on the floor, I place Hazel down, and she crawls over to her blocks while Everly goes back to fiddling with my hair.
I can feel Emory’s gaze on me even though I can’t see her. “So, you’re probably wondering about that favor.”
“Among other things,” she replies, and I can hear the amusement in her voice.
“Okay, we can discuss the favor later. What else do you want to know?”
She’s silent for a beat, then she moves from the couch and sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of me. My eyes track over her, taking her in properly. Her hair is wild and free. There’s not a speck of makeup on her pretty face, and today’s hoodie says If my mouth doesn’t say it, my face will.
“First question: what exactly is your day job?” she eventually asks.
Ever bumps my glasses, so I straighten them then tell Emory the truth. “I take care of my nieces full-time. This is my day job,” I say, lifting my hands and gesturing around the room.
Emory nods, a thoughtful expression coming over her face. “You don’t want the specifics of your current employment to be mentioned on the blog, I’m assuming.”
“Yeah,” I say. “This is my private life; that is my professional life. I’d like to keep the two separate.”
“Noted,” she says, licking her lips, then her gaze narrows. “And your ex didn’t like that this is your job?”
I nod, and her face contorts. “What a bitch,” she says then slaps her palm over her mouth, her big blue eyes bouncing straight to Ever then back to me. “Shit, I’m so sorry,” she murmurs then cringes. “Oh god, I don’t know how to be around children. I’m sorry. I should go.”
Before I can say anything to stop her, Ever screeches, “Lice! He’s dot lice!”
The little girl perched behind Sebastian jumps to her feet on the couch and exclaims again, “Bash has lice! Twick, Emwee, help me!”
My gaze darts to Sebastian, who is clearly mortified. “I do not have lice!”
I can’t help it. My lips begin to curl, and a snort rips from my nose. Sebastian shoots daggers at me with his eyes then crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t like this game anymore.”
Everly is rolling on the couch, laughing her little head off, and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. She clutches her belly then squeals when Sebastian flips around and begins tickling her.
What happened to the asshole I met in the coffee shop last week? ’Cause this guy is most assuredly not him.
Hazel crawls over and pulls herself up at Sebastian’s side, trying to get in on the action. He turns on her, scoops her up, and lays her on the couch beside her sister, and tickles them both. Shrill laughter fills the air, and I am left speechless.
My heart squeezes at the sight before me and the sounds surrounding me. This moment, right here, may very well be the most beautiful thing I have ever observed.
All thoughts of leaving have left my mind as I watch Sebastian play with his nieces. Christ, this might even be hotter than him being an asshole.
A few minutes later, when all the excitement has calmed down, he turns to face me and grins. “Sometimes a little tickle-torture is required to keep the troops in line.”
I nod, fighting to keep my expression serious. “Hmm, yes, I can see that. It’s very effective.”
Everly and Hazel lie on the couch side by side, completely exhausted from their uncle’s attack. They smile happily, and it hits me right in the feels. He doesn’t just look after them; he loves them. This isn’t just a job to him; it’s his passion.
His words from the other day replay in my mind. I love my day job. I don’t foresee anything making me want to give it up.
I have so many more questions now that I know this about him, and I’m itching to ask every single one of them.
Hazel’s little mouth stretches in a huge yawn, and Sebastian picks her up. “Time for a bottle and your nap, baby girl,” he says to her, and she rests her little head on his shoulder as he turns to me. “I’ll
be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Okay,” I say, smiling softly at the image of this gorgeous man smoothing his large palm over the baby’s back as he presses his lips gently to the top of her head.
And there go my ovaries, up in flames.
When he leaves the room, Everly sits up and looks at me expectantly. I have no idea what she wants, and I have no idea how to interact with kids, so I just stare at her.
She narrows her little eyes at me, and I get the distinct impression I’m being judged. “Do you lub my Bash, Emwee?”
My eyes bug out at her. What kind of question is that? And coming from a, what—five-year-old? I clear my throat. “Umm, no, we’re just friends.”
She scrunches her cute button nose and crosses her arms over her chest, seemingly unconvinced.
I swallow and decide it’s time to change the subject. “How old are you, Everly?”
“Four,” she says. “I’m a bid dirl. I’m dunna be five soon.”
Ha! I was close. “Cool. Are you going to have a big party?”
This successfully wipes the glare off her face, and her eyes light up. “Yes! I’m dunna be a fairwee pincess. And Bash is dunna be my pwince.”
Oh my god. I lay my hand over my melted, gooey heart. This is too much. He’s officially lost all his asshole cred in my eyes. I smile at the pretty little girl before me and tell her, “I’d love to see that.”
