by Lacey Black
“Two books, huh?” I ask, moving my ice cream toward him as I see him eyeing what’s left in my dish.
“Two!” he declares right before shoving his spoon back into my treat and taking a big bite.
I let him finish it off before collecting all of the trash from our small table. As I walk toward the nearest receptacle, I hear a familiar voice. “There you are. I haven’t seen you in weeks. I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”
Jessa.
What in the hell is she doing here, in the park, at the ice cream stand? This is definitely not her hangout.
I turn around and meet her gaze, surprisingly unhappy to see her. Not because she’s a bad person or anything, but because she’s a reminder of the man I am. The one who dates a lot of women because he has no intention of ever settling down with one. That’s the guy I’ve always been, yet for some reason, he seems like someone I don’t really know.
Or like.
“Hey, Jessa. What are you doing here?” I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets and rocking back on my heels.
She smiles, her lips painted a coral pink color. “Aren’t you happy to see me?” she asks, batting her eyelashes as she steps forward and tips her cheek toward me.
I know what she wants, but I’m not really interested in giving it to her. However, not wanting to make a scene, my intention is to place a chaste, quick kiss on her cheek, making sure my hands remain in my pockets.
Just as my lips are about to connect with her cheek, she turns, our lips meeting. I go completely still, shocked that this is happening.
Right here.
Right now.
“Malcolm!”
I rip my mouth from hers and turn, my eyes slamming into Trace’s.
And then his mother’s.
Shit.
This doesn’t look good.
Chapter 10
Leni
Okay, so this isn’t what I expected.
Malcolm turns, his wide, startled eyes locking on mine. He was just kissing this woman. No, not just any woman.
Jessa Donaldson.
Everyone knows Jessa. She’s a stunningly beautiful woman with money. Her estate is one of the largest in the area, a whopping three thousand square foot home with five bedrooms and five bathrooms. Yes, five. What would a single woman need with five bathrooms?
I know this because I clean her home every Monday morning.
Tonight, she’s well put together, wearing linen pants and a silk top that probably cost more than what I made all week. Her hair is expensive salon quality styled and her makeup flawless, but what really pulls my attention is the possessive hand she lays on Malcolm’s arm.
“Hey, Champ,” Malcolm replies, glancing back down at my son with a tight smile.
“We just came to say goodbye. It was nice seeing you again,” I state as I reach down and take Trace’s hand in my own. “Have a good evening,” I add politely, offering a small grin to the woman standing across from me, watching me with hawk-like, laser-focused, green eyes.
The grin on her pink lips is calculating, and truthfully, it makes me uncomfortable. “I’ll see you Monday, right?”
I nod. “I’ll be there.”
“I can walk you—” Malcolm starts, but I stop him with the shake of my head.
“Not necessary,” I interrupt. “We walked here. Enjoy your evening.” Glancing down at Trace, who’s gaze is fixed on Malcolm. “Ready?”
He nods. “Bye, Malcolm. See you later!”
Malcolm gives Trace a friendly smile. “Bye, Champ. I’ll see you soon.”
Trace waves over his shoulder as we walk away. I can feel eyes on me. Not just Malcolm’s, and probably Jessa’s, but those of everyone around us. I keep my head up, don’t meet their gaze, and head straight through the park in the direction of home. I swear I can hear their whispers trailing behind me.
That’s the one big thing I didn’t miss while I was away from this small town.
“It’s bath time,” I announce, cutting through the park and heading for the sidewalk.
“Do I gots to?” Trace whines, pulling a face.
“Yes, you have to. You’re wearing as much ice cream as you ate tonight. If you don’t take a bath, then you’ll get bugs in your bed.”
“Cool,” Trace replies with humor dancing in his eyes.
“Not cool, little man. You know the rule: no bugs in the house.”
His energy carries us through the park and down the sidewalk as he tells me all about bugs. We approach the back door of the laundromat and I pull the key from my pocket. One thing I’ve appreciated about the setup of the business is that the upstairs apartment still has a completely separate back entrance from the laundry services in the front. Plus, the stairs are on the inside, which means I don’t have to deal with trying to get groceries up icy stairs in the winter or the metal railing scorching Trace’s hands under the summer sun.
While he’s in the tub, I finally let myself stop and replay everything that happened tonight. Malcolm was the one who texted me first. He’s the one who showed up in the park while we were eating ice cream. I guess that’s why I’m confused. Why show up and sit with us, spending time and sharing dessert, if he was going to cast us aside so quickly?
Looking up and seeing him kiss Jessa was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over my head in the middle of January. It was unexpected, that’s for sure.
But was it really?
Malcolm’s reputation for being a playboy precedes him. From what I’ve been told since my return to town, he’s dated everyone who’s single in Mason Creek, the county, and probably half the state of Montana. He likes women and doesn’t hide the fact. So why am I so surprised to see him kiss someone tonight? Maybe because it happened five seconds after he got up from my table? He didn’t even make it ten feet away before he was locking lips with another woman.
That’s fine.
That’s his prerogative.
It’s not like we’re dating or anything.
Quite the opposite, actually.
All tonight did was reiterate the fact I don’t want or need a relationship—with Malcolm or anyone else. Men aren’t worth the hassle.
If only I really believed that.
My phone vibrates on my nightstand, interrupting my attempt at falling asleep. I crack open my eyes and glance at the alarm clock. Twelve thirty. Panic sets in that something’s wrong with my parents or my sister, so when I grab my phone and tap on the screen, I’m surprised when I see Malcolm’s name.
Before I can even pull up the text app, more texts come in a rapid-fire sequence.
Malcolm: I know it’s late, and I’m sorry for that.
Malcolm: I can’t sleep.
Malcolm: I keep replaying what happened earlier and I don’t like it.
Malcolm: I’ve been telling myself this can wait until later, but the fact is, it can’t.
Malcolm: I have something to say, and I’m afraid if I don’t say it now, I’ll chicken out.
Malcolm: First off, I’m sorry for how it probably looked earlier at the park. I wasn’t expecting Jessa to be there, not that I know her schedule. We’re friends, despite how that kiss looked. Hell, we’re not even really friends.
Malcolm: To be completely blunt, we’ve been fuck buddies off and on for a year. I haven’t seen her in the last two months though. She reached out to me last week, but I wasn’t interested in hooking up.
Malcolm: Why? There’s this other woman I can’t stop thinking about, and she invades my thoughts night and day. She’s gorgeous and has the most beautiful smile. She also has a pretty great kid, and believe it or not, I like spending time with him. I never would have thought it’d be possible, but it’s true.
Malcolm: Honestly, I really want to see where it could go with her, but I’m afraid I’ve fucked it up already. I didn’t initiate the kiss. I didn’t even respond to it. But I was so shocked, I didn’t do what I should have and pulled away immediately.
Malcolm: What I did do was
make you uncomfortable. I know because I was just as uncomfortable, and it was written all over your face. Sure, you tried to hide it behind a smile, but I saw it.
Malcolm: And didn’t like it.
Malcolm: I tried to push my uneasiness aside, pretend it wasn’t there. All night, I kept telling myself it was better for you if I stayed away. You deserve someone who can give you exactly what you need. Someone who doesn’t have to have his hand held throughout the relationship because he has no fucking clue what he’s doing.
Malcolm: But the truth is I don’t want to walk away.
Malcolm: I want to be that person, even if you deserve better.
Malcolm: And that doesn’t scare me as much as I thought it would. I mean it does. I’m terrified because I’ve never done anything more than casual dating. But the prospect of MORE has me all sorts of wired like I drank too much caffeine.
Malcolm: So there you go. My middle of the night confession.
Malcolm: I see you’re up and reading these. I’m sorry if I woke you, but I couldn’t wait another minute to tell you. Maybe I’m a chickenshit for sending it in a text, but I wanted to make sure I said everything I wanted to say.
Malcolm: And that is I’m sorry. I want to see you again and hang out. I want to take you on a date. I know you’re a single mom, so if we have to take Trace with us, that’d be OK too. He’s a cool kid.
Malcolm: OK, I’m gonna stop now. I’ve never been one to word vomit, especially in text form, and I’m doing an exceptional job at it tonight. I hope to see you again soon, and until I do, I know who’ll be on my mind.
Malcolm: You.
Malcolm: Good night. Sorry to wake you.
I read through the long series of texts, my heart hammering in my chest. When I get back down to the end, my fingers hover over the screen, waiting for the cue to type. It comes only a few seconds later, my desire to talk to him overruling any hesitation I may feel.
Me: You didn’t wake me.
The bubbles appear almost instantaneously.
Malcolm: I’m glad.
Malcolm: I had a good time tonight. You know, before…
I can’t help but smile. I had a great time too, before Jessa Donaldson walked up and slammed her lips against his. Suddenly, I had felt the exact same as I did when Greg would go out with his friends the moment he got home. I felt unimportant. Invisible. Used.
Me: I enjoyed you joining us for ice cream. It was a pleasant surprise.
Malcolm: Maybe we can do it again sometime.
Me: Maybe we can.
Malcolm: As much as I’d love to stay up all night, talking to you, I know you need your sleep. Something tells me Trace is a ball of energy.
Me: All day, every day. He gets up at 5:30. In the morning. Who gets up that early for no good reason?
Malcolm: *hides eyes* Guilty.
Of course he does. He probably gets up to work out or run. You don’t get a body like the naked one I saw in his office bathroom by eating donuts for breakfast and binge watching The Office whenever you can. He’s not all bulky muscle though. Malcolm is defined in the sexiest way possible. He’s lean and just…hard.
So. Hard.
I wiggle a bit under my comforter, trying to relieve the sudden ache between my legs at the onslaught of memory, but it doesn’t help. Nothing ever helps.
Malcolm: Good night, beautiful. I look forward to seeing you again soon.
Me: Night.
This time when I rest my head on the pillow, I feel myself relax. Closing my eyes, it only takes minutes before I feel sleep wrap around me, drawing me in. With a smile on my lips, I succumb to it with dreams of Malcolm Wright carrying me away.
Chapter 11
Malcolm
“Hey, Malcolm. How have you been?”
I turn around and find Grady Jackson standing behind me. He was a few years younger than me in school, but I know him well enough to consider him a friend. Hell, I guess everyone is your friend in this town, but I’ve always liked Grady. “Good, man. You?”
“Can’t complain.” He spots what I’m holding in my hand and gives me a quizzical look. “That’s probably a little small for you,” he teases, referring to the child’s life jacket I’m holding.
I chuckle and give him a glance. “Yeah, it definitely wouldn’t fit me.” Then something hits me. “You have a small child. Would you say this fits a five-year-old?” I ask, holding it up. I went off the size chart on the cardboard tag attached and tried to guestimate Trace’s height and weight.
He looks it over. “Yeah, that’s the size I have for Jillian, and she’s not quite five. That should work.”
Nodding, I tuck the vest under my arm. “I appreciate the help.” I wait for him to ask more, but Grady’s never been one to dig for dirt like so many of the others in town.
“No problem,” he says, turning to head a little farther down the aisle. “Did you hear Tucker’s playing this Saturday at Pony Up? Charlee’s really wanting to go up and hear him play. I think Grayson and Laken are going too, if you’re interested.”
I nod, appreciating the invitation. “Thanks, I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”
He holds up a hand to wave. “See ya around.”
Grady disappears down an aisle while I take my purchase to the counter. Once I’ve paid and the new life jacket is in a bag, I walk back to the office just down the block, prepared to get a little work done before I need to go to City Hall. Of course, as soon as I walk in, my dad is sitting in the lobby, and he’s talking to none other than my grandpa.
“Malcolm,” my grandpa’s boisterous voice booms through the seating area.
“Hey, Grandpa. What are you doing here?” I ask, noticing our secretary, Elaina, isn’t here and probably out to lunch.
“I was on my way to grab some tortilla shells. Grandma has a taste for tacos for dinner, but we’re out of shells, so I volunteered to run to the grocery store.”
“Grandma has a hankering for tacos?” I can’t help but chuckle. My grandparents are the best ever. Despite being wildly successful before retirement, they’ve always been down to earth and cool like that.
“Yep. You interested in joining us?” he offers, his eyes bouncing between my face and the bag in my hand.
“Sorry, I’m unavailable. I have plans,” I tell him, setting my bag down, yet trying to keep the contents concealed by the chair.
“Plans? They wouldn’t happen to be with a certain brunette who owns a local business and has a small son, would they?” the oldest Wright asks, his lips turned upward as he waits.
I look at my dad, who just holds up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I didn’t say anything.”
“He didn’t have to,” Grandpa declares. “You know this town better than that, Malcolm. Your grandma’s phone was chirping before you even left the park last Friday night.”
I sigh, really disliking the chatter more now than ever before. “I’m sure she got an earful,” I reply, taking a seat and crossing my arms over my chest.
He shrugs. “You know a lot of the stuff is hearsay anyway, but since you didn’t deny it, I’ll take at least part of the story as fact.”
Dammit.
“I’ve hung out with Lenora Abbott a few times,” I confirm but go into no more detail.
“And I take it the life jacket in that bag you’re trying to hide behind the chair is for her son?”
I sigh and close my eyes, suddenly wishing I hadn’t come back to the office so quickly. “Had I known I was going to encounter the Spanish Inquisition, I’d have gone for coffee first,” I state, making both men laugh. “Yes, the vest is for Trace, Lenora’s five-year-old son. I’m taking him fishing today, while Leni works. She had a family emergency last week and ended up bringing him with her, so we went out back while she cleaned. The boy’s a fan of fishing, so I thought we’d go.”
“Ahh, yes, I saw Lisa Abbott at the post office earlier in the week. Lewis took a bit of a tumble and sprained his ankle pretty good. I guess he’s on crutches fo
r a week or two,” Grandpa says to my dad before turning his gaze back to me. When he does, he just smiles a wide, knowing grin.
“What?” I ask, hating that he can read me so damn well. He’s always been able to tell what I’m thinking, from the time I was a young boy until now. It’s one of the many qualities that made Grandpa an amazing lawyer.
My tone apparently amuses him, and he laughs. When he sobers, he just says, “You like her.”
I scoff in denial, but it’s useless. Instead of the confession he’s anticipating, I say, “I barely know her.”
Grandpa shrugs. “What does that matter? Every relationship has a beginning. I barely knew your grandma when I met her, even though we were both raised right here in Mason Creek. She was just young enough I knew of her but didn’t know any of the things that mattered. Those things I learned along the way, but I decided to try because I was attracted to her, and I needed to know more.”
I pull a face. “Please don’t go into any more details about your attraction.”
Grandpa lets a hearty laugh rip. “You don’t want to hear how your father got here?”
“Dad, we’ve all heard the Chevy Bel Air story. Please spare us,” my dad replies.
Grandpa holds up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I won’t talk about the night your mom and I went parking on our way to the Davis Bridge, the one the old man built for his wife on private property. All the kids used to sneak back there and kiss.”
Dad snorts. “Sounds like they did more than park.”