by Keren Hughes
“We can read this another night baby. Did you thank Uncle Ted?”
“Of course I did, Mummy, I’m not silly. You always tell me to have good manners.”
“Good boy. Now, lie down and let me tuck you in and we can get started on tonight’s story.”
He snuggles down under the covers and I tuck him in. I place a light kiss on his forehead before settling down next to him and opening the book.
As Hardin falls asleep, I lean down and kiss his soft cheek and brush a strand of hair out of his face. These are the moments I cherish most. There’s nobody I could ever love more than this little bundle of joy.
I say little, but he’s not so little anymore. Soon I’ll blink and he’ll be eighteen and moving out. I don’t want to miss a single second of joy in the moments between now and then.
Padding softly downstairs, I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine from the fridge. I reach for a stemless tumbler and pour myself a small glass. It’s almost too peaceful down here. It makes me miss the nights in with Angelo. I think that it’s his companionship I miss as much as anything else.
I could get an early night, but it’s a bit too early. So, instead, I pick up my Kindle and start a new book I’ve been dying to dive into. It’s one of a series about cocky alphas, and I just love anything by the two authors.
Just as I’m getting to the good stuff, my phone rings, totally breaking the spell. The phone flashes with the face of my best friend who moved almost two hours away last summer. I answer and see her gorgeous face light up with a smile as she sees me.
Lord knows why she had to move so far away. I mean, yeah, she had a daughter and a husband, and they wanted to live somewhere bigger. Her husband, Lewis, is a hotshot solicitor and he didn’t want to keep commuting to the city. I get that; Angelo and I wanted to be somewhere bigger when we had Hardin. But I miss her like crazy, and although she’s a stay-at-home mum, we don’t get to get together often enough. Fuck, it’s good to see her face and talk about everything and nothing.
After Rhiannon fills me in on the things I’ve missed in her life, she quizzes me like she thinks I have something worth talking about. She asks me about my non-existent love life, and I tell her that there’s simply nothing to tell. Ever the perceptive one, she doesn’t miss a trick. So, I tell her about the hot guy passing through town on his way to who-knows-where.
“Nothing’s going on though, Rhi. And it won’t. He’s not sticking around, so I’m not getting attached.”
“Sure, nothing going on at all. That’s why your skin is a deep shade of cerise right now.”
“Rhi, I’m telling you, there’s nothing going on.”
“But you’d like there to be?”
“Hey, I can’t help that he’s hot. And to think I didn’t look twice at him when I saw him on Tinder.”
“Tinder?” she gasps. “Oh no, girl, please tell me you didn’t meet some random weirdo off a hook-up app?”
“It’s not like that,” I sigh, before proceeding to tell her how we met.
When she finishes laughing her ass off at me, she hears Luna calling her. We say our goodbyes, but not before she makes me promise to—and I quote—keep her apprised of any update in the situation.
It’s an empty promise, because nothing will happen, but I agree in the hopes of keeping her from hounding me about it.
***
After dropping Hardin off at his classroom, I make my way to the shop before heading home. I make my way to the till, but bump into a wall of muscle, and almost send everything in my arms flying.
“Shit, sorry. I should really look where I’m …” I trail off as I look up to see I’ve bumped into none other than Rhett. “Going. Sorry about that.”
“No need to apologise,” he says in a voice that makes my insides do somersaults. “Here, let me help.” He takes a couple of things from me and carries them to the till. “You really ought to get a basket next time,” he says with a wry chuckle.
“I didn’t realise I’d need one. Typical of me, really. I come in for one thing and leave with about twenty.”
I don’t know why I’m rambling, but I can’t seem to stop whenever I’m around him.
“Let me help you home with the bags.”
“Oh, there’s really no need.”
“I’d like to though.”
“Wasn’t there something you came in for?”
“Oh,” he says, as if he’s completely forgotten his reason for being here. “Yeah, umm … let me just grab something and I’ll be right back.”
He walks off in the direction of the fridges at the back of the store before returning a few moments later carrying a couple of bottles of kombucha. I’ve never tried that stuff myself, but just the thought of a cold tea drink makes me want to puke. If you’re going to drink tea, make it the hot kind with sugar and milk.
“You ought to try something before you decide you don’t like it,” Rhett says, causing me to frown.
Shit! I must have said that about tea out loud.
“I … umm … I didn’t mean to voice that out loud.”
“You didn’t say anything, it was clear from the look on your face.”
“But you knew I haven’t even tried it.”
“Lucky guess. Probably because I’ve seen the look on my friends' faces when I drink it. They’re all about beer or whiskey, and normally so am I. But somebody told me about this stuff and, what can I say, it’s good.”
The cashier rings up our purchases and we bag them up before leaving the store. Rhett carries the bags, even though I told him not to fuss.
“So, what are you cooking?” he asks as we walk back to my place.
“Oh, umm, I’m making turkey nuggets with sweet potato fries. I ran out of courgette and carrots though, hence the trip to the store.”
“Courgette?” he asks as he makes a funny face.
“You know, you really ought to try something before deciding you don’t like it,” I parrot his earlier words back to him.
“It just … I don’t know; it looks revolting.”
“Hardin says the same, but he eats it every time I make these nuggets. He has no choice really because I grate it and put it in with the turkey mince and grated carrot.”
“Huh?”
The puzzled expression on his face makes me giggle.
“Wow, you’ve never made your own nuggets, have you?”
“Umm, that would be a hard no.”
“You really should. They’re much healthier than frozen crap. I make sure Hardin eats as little frozen food as possible.”
I’m rambling and I’m probably boring the pants off him, but he listens with a smile on his face all the same.
“What’s with the megawatt grin?” I ask when I can’t bear it any longer.
“Nothing, it’s just that you remind me of my mum. She wouldn’t allow me to eat frozen food often either. She made everything from scratch almost every night when I was growing up. She’d let me have pizza or nuggets if she was really rushed off her feet, but a lot of the time she made her own pizza and froze it, so it was still the healthier option.”
“Sounds like a woman after my own heart. It’s this house just here,” I say, pointing down the path to my front door.
“Nice place.”
“Yeah, we like it. And my mum lives just a couple of doors that way,” I say as I gesture to her house, “which makes it easy when she watches Hardin while I’m at work.”
“Where is the little man?”
“He’s at school until three-thirty. I’m a mess because it’s his first week and it’s weird that he’s not here with me. But I want him to get a good education and make friends.”
“You’re a good mum.”
“H-how do you figure that?” I stutter.
“Well, you want what’s best for your son. You want him to get an education, to make friends and to eat healthily. I think that counts as being a good mum, don’t you?”
I feel the blush colour my cheeks. “I
t’s just the same as any mother would want.”
“Not every mother, trust me. There are some women that have kids and neglect them. There are some that beat their kids, have them taken away by social services because they can’t be bothered to look after them.”
If he hadn’t just told me about his own mother, I’d say he was talking from experience. He has this kind of weird expression on his face, like he’s been hurt but is trying to hide it. Whatever it is, the deep frown mars his handsome features. But almost as soon as it appears, it vanishes again, leaving a smile in its place.
“Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? You know, the hot kind?”
Shit. I don’t know why I’m inviting him in, but I can’t retract my words now I’ve said them out loud; that would be rude.
“I don’t drink tea, but if you have coffee, I’d love one.”
“Sure, yeah.”
I open the door and stand aside to let him in. He won’t let me take the bags from him, so I show him to the kitchen where he places them on the side.
As I’m unpacking the bags and putting things away, I turn to fill the kettle and grab two mugs from the overhead cupboard. This place might not be as big as our old house, but it’s home. It’s big enough for Hardin and me, plus it’s close to school and work, as well as my mum’s place.
I watch as Rhett looks at the family photographs on the wall. He smiles as he looks at baby pictures of Hardin.
“Who’s this?” he asks as he points at our family portrait.
“That’s my husband, Angelo.”
His face looks crestfallen, but I don’t get time to wonder why.
“I didn’t realise you were married.”
“Oh, umm, I’m not. I’m widowed, actually.”
“Shit. I’m sorry, Caleigh. I didn’t know.”
His shoulders slump and it looks like somebody kicked his puppy or something from the way he looks at me.
“It’s okay, you weren’t to know. He died a few years ago. He had cancer. We thought he had more time, but it spread faster than wildfire, and he was gone before I could process what was happening. He was always happy though, right up to the end. He was never maudlin, never got upset in front of Hardin. It was hard, because he was so little when it happened. One minute he’s got a dad, the next he’s gone.”
I stop talking long enough to swallow back unshed tears and make those coffees. I carry them through to the living room and Rhett follows.
“He was a great dad, you know. He lived for Hardin. He was the apple of his eye. We were so lucky to have a guy like Angelo in our lives,” I continue as we take a seat.
“Hardin has his eyes,” he remarks quietly.
“Yeah? People say he’s my double.”
“In his baby photos, he looks just like his daddy.”
“He was Angelo’s shadow. He literally followed him everywhere, all the time. Angelo loved to read him bedtime stories, and he was especially good at making them up off the top of his head. Much better than I am, that’s for sure. I try. I read to him every night. He usually picks a book or asks me to tell him stories. A lot of them include his daddy in one way or another. I’ll tell him about things we did when we were young, or I’ll tell him about a prince in a magical kingdom far, far away.”
“Does he remember him much?”
“I’m not sure. I know he knows who he is because of the stories I tell or the pictures on the wall, but I’m not sure about real memories of his own.”
I wipe a stray tear and Rhett gives me a pained look.
“I’m sorry, Caleigh. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Oh, gosh, no. It’s fine, honestly.”
He takes my small hand in his and strokes the back of it with his thumb. That small gesture calms me. It’s weird, because it should feel wrong coming from anyone other than Angelo, but it doesn’t. It feels nice.
Turning to face him, I smile as he wipes away another tear from my cheek. He’s tender and sweet, and it makes my heart flutter like it has wings.
Before I can fully think it through—and probably overthink it and chicken out—I lean in and ghost a kiss across his lips, waiting to see if he’ll respond.
He doesn’t do anything for a second, and I wonder whether I’ve misjudged him being attracted to me. Maybe it’s all in my head.
I start to pull back but then his lips meet mine in a kiss so soft and gentle it makes my heart skip a beat. The butterflies in my stomach are going crazy as I lean into the kiss and part his lips with my tongue.
He moans quietly as he gives in to the urge to deepen the kiss. His tongue dances with mine as if we’ve done it a thousand times before.
His one hand comes up to the back of my head whilst the other palm cradles my cheek. My blood sings in my veins as his kiss turns from tender to passionate, consuming me the way my thoughts of him have these last few days.
Breaking the kiss, Rhett pulls back and looks at me through hooded eyes. His irises are darkened with lust and I see myself reflected back in them.
“You are so beautiful,” he says in a husky voice that melts my insides.
I feel the blush creep across my cheeks.
“Even prettier when your cheeks tint to match the colour of your hair,” he whispers as he ghosts a kiss over my lips.
“Hey, my cheeks don’t get that pink,” I respond defensively.
“Not quite, but they are beautiful and rosy.”
He touches his forehead to mine, and it’s like I can see into his soul as I get lost in his gaze.
“I’ve been wanting to do that ever since we met in the airport.”
“You have?” I ask, surprise evident in my tone.
“I have. Ever since you swiped past my picture on Tinder.”
“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” I sigh. “I actually can’t get over doing that. My mum always told me never judge a book by its cover, but I did exactly that. Well, not exactly, I mean, your bio didn’t give much away, and your picture was kind of dark. You’re better looking in real life.”
“Thank you,” he says as he ghosts another kiss across my lips.
He pulls back and looks at me. He runs a hand through his long dark hair, giving him a slightly dishevelled look. I like it. I mean, I like it a lot.
“You are too beautiful for words to accurately describe.”
Now I feel myself blushing even harder. “You say the kindest things.”
“I only say them if they’re true.”
His tone and the look on his face are sincere. It makes my heart race as I take in what he said. Caleigh Rae Flynn: too beautiful for words to describe. Words that have never been said to me before.
Chapter Six
Brent
I don’t know what made me kiss her. No, that’s a lie, I do know. She’s breathtakingly beautiful and I have wanted to know the taste of her lips since we met. I wasn’t wrong, she tastes like strawberry lip gloss, but also something uniquely Caleigh. And for once it wasn’t me who initiated things; it was all her. Ghosting a sweet kiss over my lips, making my cock twitch and my heartrate skyrocket.
Truth be told, after finding out she’s widowed, I wouldn’t have initiated the kiss. Not for any other reason than timing.
“Your coffee’s gone cold,” she says, jarring me out of my thoughts of where else I would like to feel her lips.
“Yours too,” I reply with a chuckle.
Caleigh’s quiet for a beat and it makes me wonder what she’s thinking. Is she regretting the kiss? Is she wishing I’d be polite enough to get up and leave? Is that what I should do? Make an excuse and go? Or would that be rude and make her feel slighted after kissing me? Man, these thoughts are giving me a headache.
“Who are you, Rhett?”
The question shocks me. Does she know who I am? Is she expecting me to confess all?
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t answer a question with a question. My grandmother always said that was rude,” she replies with a smile. “All I meant
was, who are you? You know, like, you aren’t from around here. You’re a mystery to me.”
“I’m just a guy,” I say with a shrug. “What do you want to know?”
“I don’t know. How about how old you are?”
“I’m thirty-four. How old are you?”
“Same age. Where are you from?”
“A galaxy far, far away,” I say with a wink.
“So, you’re an alien? Are you just visiting our planet, or do you intend to stay?”
“It depends. I might stay, given the right incentive.”
“Oh, really? And what would that be?”
“It depends on humans,” I say with a grin. “I mean, are they all they’re cracked up to be? Do I really want to assimilate with humanity? What can they give me in order to make me stay?”
She smiles at me and it’s a goofy grin, but it’s fucking adorable.
“Well, I can only tell you what this human can offer.”
“Pray tell, what would this human offer?”
“Well, lunch would be a start,” she says, surprising me.
That wasn’t what I thought she’d say. I might be wrong, but it felt like her walls were coming down, but then she clammed up and slammed them back up again.
“Depends what’s on the menu. Not sure I can digest human food, after all.”
Caleigh smiles at me and her eyes twinkle with mirth. Maybe she’s not completely erected those walls after all.
“I would love to say that I have some alien food in the cupboard for when they pop by unannounced, but I don’t. I must have run out.” She pokes her tongue out at me and I laugh. “How does Welsh rarebit sound?”
“Umm …”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know what Welsh rarebit is?”
Her puzzled expression makes me laugh even harder.
“I’ll be honest. I haven’t got the foggiest notion as to what that is. You could make it for me and enlighten me though. I’m always open to having my horizons broadened.”
“Well, the layman might call it cheese on toast, but it’s a little bit more than that.”