Riley’s cheek lifts against my chest, and I feel her smile though I can’t see it. “I’m considering calling my dad. I want this out in the open because you’re important to me, Noah. I heard all the things you told River, and I want you to know . . . me too. I want to spend time with you—need it, in fact. I’m happy by nature, but you make me happy by nurture. You feed my soul.”
I don’t know what comes over her, but she starts making adorably weird Cookie Monster gobbling noises, feigning at nibbling along my chest. “Nom-nom, my cookie. Soul cookie. Nom-nom-nom.” Her teeth nip my skin through my shirt, not hurting but letting me feel the pressure.
I bark out a laugh, my chest rumbling as I pull her tight against me. “Soul cookie? See, Sunshine . . . how could I resist that?”
She snuggles into me like a happy kitten. “You’re not supposed to.”
“Tell you what,” I say, smacking her ass sharply. She squeals happily, wiggling around to mock-glare at me. “You call your dad and I’ll do the dishes. And then I’ll meet you for that bath, we can go to bed, and I’ll nom-nom your cookie. Deal?”
Is this what flirting has become? With Riley, it is. Fun and silly and full of smiles. Later, she’ll love some dirty talk, but for now, the ridiculousness of it is what makes us both happy.
“Are we negotiating?” Riley teases with a coy lift of her shoulder.
“Nope. Call, bath, bed.”
She smiles, and I get up to give her a moment to make her call in private. I can hear her from the kitchen, but I do my best to tune out, letting her have the space to say what she needs to with her dad.
Raffy escorts me to the kitchen, knowing there’s a better shot that he’ll get a treat from me in the ‘food room’ than from Riley on the couch. The sink is full of dishes, the remnants of our family dinner stacked neatly. I turn on the hot water, rinsing the plates before loading the dishwasher.
I try not to listen, but I hear Riley say brightly, “Hi, Dad!”
I scrub the pots, pans, and serving platters before drying them and putting them away in the cabinets where they belong. Once everything is cleaned up, I lean against the counter and eye Raffy, who’s been watching patiently the whole time. “Fine, you want a biscuit?”
I grab one out of the cookie jar and sit on the floor, my back to the wall. Raffy climbs in my lap, taking the treat daintily and eating messily while I scratch behind his ears.
I don’t know how long I sit there with Raffy in my lap, but after a bit, I hear Riley call me. “Noah? Can you come here?”
“Guess that’s my cue, Raffy. Wish me luck,” I tell the fluffball. He rumbles in displeasure at being disturbed and having his scratches stopped but trails after me to the living room.
Riley is sitting on the couch, her phone propped up on the coffee table in front of her. Pointing at it, she tells me, “Come say hi to my dad. Dad, this is Noah. Noah, this is my dad, Joseph.”
I sit down, leaving a small space between my thigh and Riley’s, and tell the man on the screen, “Good to see you again, Mr. Watson.”
Joseph Watson is a formidable man, even on a small screen. His blond hair has gone grey at the temples and his blue eyes are surrounded by crow’s feet, but the width of his shoulders says he’ll defend his little girl to the death if need be. I hope it’s not needed at all.
“Noah! Good to see you too, though I’m sure I’ve told you to call me Joseph,” he says with a slight lift of his lips.
It’s a dominance test, same as any other. I dip my chin respectfully. “Of course, Joseph.”
His smile lifts incrementally. “So, Riley tells me you two are dating now? And that River got a little handsy?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, sir,” I say formally.
He chuckles. “River will tell it differently, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure by the time he’s done, it’ll sound like he beat the shit out of me, leaving me for dead in a pool of my own blood,” I agree.
“Yeah, he’s good like that. Look, I’ve got a meeting to rush into.” Joseph holds up a finger to someone offscreen. “I’ll just say my piece . . .” His voice goes slow and deadly. “Don’t hurt my little girl or I’ll have to hurt you. And I know people, Son. People with a particular set of skills. They’ll never find your body.” Then he smiles brightly as if that never happened, and I realize he was half-joking with the Liam Neeson reference. “But really? I’ve known you for years, Noah, and you’ve always done right by River, so I wouldn’t expect anything less with Riley.”
“Dad! All the threats and innuendoes are not necessary,” Riley argues.
“Understood, Mr. Watson.”
“You kids behave,” he says. “’Bye, honey. ’Bye, Noah.”
Riley is still rolling her eyes as she tells her dad goodbye, but I understand the protective streak in him. I’ve got one myself . . . for my mom, sister, and now, Riley. “’Bye, Joseph.”
And then the call is disconnected.
“Oh, my gosh, I’m sorry about that. What is it with guys and all the chest beating, argh-argh-argh stuff?” Riley complains.
I shrug, unconcerned. “Who we are, Sunshine. Like asking you not to smile. Just can’t be helped. It’s what we do.”
She sighs and reclines on the couch. The bath can wait while I have her at my side once more.
“How’d that go?” I test. The end seemed okay, but I don’t know what Riley had to do or say to get it to that point.
“He was disappointed that he wasn’t here since it was a whole thing, but he’s happy for me.”
“What was it like? Having him here sometimes but gone so much?” I ask carefully. This isn’t the first thing her father has missed out on.
“I guess I never really knew any other way for it to be,” Riley says, smiling a little. “I mean, I saw what some of my other friends had with their dads around all the time, so there were times I did get a little jealous. Dad missed a few of my firsts. He missed my first steps when he was in Krakow, Mom says. And he missed my first day of school—he was in Kenya. My driver’s license, he was in Seoul.”
“That’s a lot of firsts.”
Riley looks contemplative, remembering years gone by. “Yeah, but you know what I remember most? All the ways that he helped prepare me for those firsts. Like my first day of school . . . he might have been in Kenya, but before he went, he and I went out shopping to buy a special backpack. We went through the whole routine, practiced it—packing my backpack so I wouldn’t forget my lunch, walking to school, and coming home and putting my stuff away. And he was the one who taught me how to really drive.”
“Really drive?” I ask, and Riley laughs quietly, nodding. “As in what, Fast and Furious style?”
“Actually, you’re not that far off,” Riley says. “He made me promise not to talk about it with Mom, but he would get sent to some scary places for work. Back then, he made it sound like it was silly stuff, people driving on the wrong side of the street or thinking traffic lights were suggestions, so he taught me to drive offensively. In hindsight, he was in dangerous places sometimes.”
“Has your dad ever been in trouble?” I ask, remembering his comment about ‘knowing people’.
“Nope. He mostly works with established partners, ironing out adjustments to deals and stuff like that. But he’s smart, cautious, and knows what’s important—with work and with us at home. He knew that he’d miss some days, so he made sure to turn every day he could with River and me into a celebration.”
“River doesn’t sound as positive,” I admit, thinking back to my conversations with my best friend. “About your dad, I mean.”
“I think River and Dad butted heads more. And River remembers when Dad was home. He didn’t start traveling until after I was born, so I didn’t know any different. But River did, and that was a big change for him. They’re still close. I think River just wishes Dad had been around more.” She shrugs, “But we all know that Dad gave us a hell of a childhood and a good start in life.”
/> “You got very lucky,” I murmur, and Riley turns to face me, sitting crisscross on the couch beside me.
“Hey, we don’t have to talk about parents if you don’t want to,” she says.
I appreciate that she’s offering me a way out, with no pressure or judgment, but I don’t need it. I place my hand on her knee, absently rubbing circles there. “It was a long time ago, and I’ve dealt with it, mostly pulling myself up by my bootstraps and moving on. I won’t let my dad’s absence be an excuse or a reason for who I am today. I’ve worked hard, I’ve struggled, but I’m successful, and that has nothing to do with him.”
“Is that what life is to you?” Riley asks. “Hard work, struggle, and then . . . what?”
I’m quiet for a moment, thinking about the answer to her question. What do I think life is? What’s been my plan all along?
“I’ve worked hard my whole life, struggling when we had to and struggling when I just needed to, if that makes sense. I have something to prove . . . to myself. I guess I figured I’d work hard, do the whole rat race thing, and climb the corporate ladder until I reached some point where I could say ‘I made it’ and then, I’d finally relax. I’d be secure in my success, know that Mom and Arielle are taken care of, and be there for my wife and kids if I have any. Be a better dad than mine ever was.”
“Family is important to you.” Simple words, but not a simple meaning. I would do anything for the people I care about. And now that includes Riley.
“Very. But now, with you in my life, I realize that there’s more to life than just struggle and strife. That I don’t have to wait until some predetermined level of success to enjoy life. That there’s good around every corner, that it can be as simple as having someone curled up on the couch with me while a spoiled schnauzer chomps down on a bone in the corner.”
Riley turns her head to look over at Raffy, who’s pretty much in heaven. He’s sprawled out on his dog bed, belly to the sky, with a rubberized dog bone in his mouth. His fluffy little paws are holding the toy so he can chew it without dropping it, which he’s mostly doing successfully.
“He is such a mess, but he’s so cute that even when he’s a barking monster, I can’t help but love him,” Riley tells me as she goes gooey-hearted for her puppy.
I pull her legs over mine, wrapping one arm around her back and laying the other across her thighs to hold her. Riley wraps her arms around my neck and lays her head down. “This is pretty sweet. A definite good part of my day. After today, maybe the best part.”
I stay still, letting the weight of her sink into me, grounding me to the moment so I can enjoy every tiny detail of it. I write them all down in my mind, storing them away so I don’t forget a single thing—not the smell of her hair, the squeeze of her arms, or the heat of her body pressed to mine.
This is success. This is happy.
After a while where we’re both silently enjoying each other’s presence, I whisper darkly, “I think I could make the bath be the best part of your day.”
Riley giggles, burying her face into my shoulder. But as she shakes her head at my obvious plan, she gets up, letting me lead her down the hall.
“Go get pajamas, and I’ll turn the bath on,” I tell her, and she disappears into her bedroom.
Will she get sexy lingerie? Or fuzzy sun-printed pants? I have no idea and love the idea of finding out because she’s sexy either way.
I take my shirt off and then make quick work of figuring out how to plug the tub, turning the water on as hot as it’ll go. I want Riley to be soft, supple, and warm for me. I find a bottle of bubble bath in the cabinet and pour a generous amount into the stream of water and then add a cute yellow rubber ducky I find in the cabinet too.
The only thing missing is Riley.
“Hey, Sunshine, you coming?” I call, crossing the hall to the bedroom.
Riley is standing there, naked and gorgeous with a pair of socks in her hand. “I couldn’t decide what to get, but my feet get cold, so I started here,” she says, holding up the yellow wool knit socks.
“That’s all you need,” I growl, rushing her and taking her in my arms. I meet her mouth, our heads tilted to get more of each other. Tonight has been a lot to deal with, and while we’ve faced it together, we need each other.
I need Riley. Now.
I reach between us, undoing my pants and freeing my cock before I pick her up. My hands support under her ass, and her arms and legs wrap around me as her body welcomes me inside.
“Fuck, Sunshine,” I groan. “How are you already wet for me?”
“Always. Ready. For. You.” She’s bouncing on my cock, each word a hiss of breath as I slam deep.
I can’t believe I’ve gone my whole life without Riley wrapped around my dick and woven through my heart. I was missing so much and didn’t even realize it. But I do now, and I’m not going to take it for granted.
I buck up into her, holding her securely as I pick up the pace. I know I can’t stay in this position for long, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to make her come and fill her up. We need this. We deserve this.
“You feel so good. I can feel how much your pussy wants me. So fucking tight,” I grunt. My hands squeeze the flesh of her ass, likely leaving fingerprints, and Riley goes crazy. She uses her leverage on my shoulders to lift and lower herself as I push and pull her, and together, we get wilder and rougher.
“Come, Noah. Please. I want it,” she pants.
I want to wait for her, but her body is pulling my orgasm from me, and I can’t hold back. “Now!”
Riley cries out in relief, not from her own orgasm but from mine. I pump deep and hard, filling her as pleasurable static washes through my mind. As I return to awareness, I realize Riley is sliding down my body a bit.
I turn, tossing her to the bed. She bounces with a squeal and a smile. But I wipe the smile off her face in an instant when I throw her legs into the air, pinning them with one arm to slide my fingers into her slippery pussy. I use my cum, rubbing it on her lips and up to her clit. “Your turn, baby. Come for me, soak me with it.”
Riley shudders as my fingers blur across her whole center, swiping at her clit with each stroke. In seconds, she’s writhing, moaning, and calling my name. “Noah, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
As if I would.
She goes tense and quiet, a silent scream trying to escape, and then she detonates. Her juices flow over my hand, mixing with mine, and I spread the entirety of us all over her, wanting her messy with the pleasure we’ve made.
“Yesssss,” she hisses.
As the shudders slow, I kiss her shapely calf, nibbling there gently. “Nom-nom-nom.”
Riley opens one eye, her dazed gaze looking at me in surprise. “Did you Cookie Monster me?”
“Soul cookies,” I answer, and she laughs.
I join the laugh but in a whoosh become aware of an odd sound.
“Oh, shit!! The water’s still on!” I yell, scrambling from the bedroom to the bathroom.
The sight that greets me is straight out of a cartoon. The tub is piled high with white bubbles, each piled on another as they climb the tile surround of the tub. Luckily, the overflow valve is keeping up with the amount of water . . . mostly.
“Towels!” Riley shouts, opening the cabinet and grabbing them as I turn the water off.
In a total moment of ridiculous comedy, we’re both buck naked, on the floor, trying to sop up the water with what I’m guessing are her good towels.
“I’m sorry. I kinda forgot about the bath when I saw you naked,” I try to explain.
Riley laughs. “Well, that’s a good compliment if ever I’ve heard one. It’s okay. This cleans up, and so will my sheets.” Her brows knit, and then she starts laughing again. “Where did you get the ducky?”
I look to where she’s pointing and see the yellow rubber duck I found in the cabinet. “Under there, with the bubble bath.”
“Oh, that’s uh . . .” Riley blushes. “That’s Raffy’s bath toy.”
“He has his own bath toys?” I ask, and Riley’s lips twist in humor. Answering my own question, I say, “Of course he does.”
With a shrug, I drop the nearly sopping towel I’m using to the floor and call out, “Hey, Raffy, want a bath? It’s all ready for . . . you.”
And like the spoiled little prince he is, he comes trotting into the bathroom like he knew all along what was happening in here. And that it was entirely for him.
Chapter 18
Riley
“Thanks again, Mike,” I tell the diner owner as he stands back, his arms crossed over his big belly.
He’s been very understanding and gracious in letting me have a photo shoot at Big Mike’s. I hadn’t even considered that when Noah and I had our date here, but when a well-known photographer contacted me saying she’d be in the area today and would love to collaborate, I knew the diner was the perfect spot.
“No problem, Miss Sunshine . . . uh, Riley? Yeah, I’m gonna go clean the kitchen or something,” Mike says awkwardly and then disappears.
“Don’t worry about him,” Wayne tells me with a wave of his hand. The helpful waiter offered to come assist with anything I needed today when he found out about the photo shoot. “He doesn’t know how to deal with celebrity.”
I laugh at his comment. “I’m not a celebrity. Just someone trying to make the world a bit brighter.”
“M’kay, Little Miss Sunshine. I see you acting humble, but you’re the biggest celebrity I’ve ever waited on, so I’mma need you to own that so I can brag appropriately.” He wags his yellow-painted nails—in solidarity, he told me—to highlight his point.
When I was here before, Wayne had no idea who I was. I doubt he truly does now, either, but when people hear ‘photo shoot’ they go a little crazy. Even me. I’m a bit starstruck by the photographer whose work I’ve followed for years.
“Riley?” India, the photographer, says, getting my attention. “Let’s get you sitting on the bar, feet on the barstool.” She bends down, looking through her camera to check the setup.
The Blind Date Page 22
