by Lacey Black
“I always thought my future was to serve on a bigger stage,” he says, pulling me away from my own thoughts. “Governor, maybe? Senator? I was never sure which but knew that’s where my road would lead me. Now, I guess I’m finding my niche here. Maybe a small town isn’t so bad, you know? It has some of the best things to offer in life. Some of the most amazing people are here.”
When he looks at me, there’s something very settling in his eyes. As if he’s discovered there’s more to life than work or big political dreams. Maybe I’m looking too much into it, but it’s as if he’s found something worth staying for. “That’s a very bold and admirable goal.”
He gives a weird nod, shrug thing, but doesn’t say anything more on the subject. Instead, he gives me a big grin and whispers, “Admirable enough for a goodnight kiss?”
I can’t stop the giggle as I pop a grape into my mouth. Slowly, I chew and smile. “Maybe.”
Chapter 15
Malcolm
Maybe.
I’ve been thinking about that one word since it fell from her lips.
After dinner, we visited for a little longer while Trace played in the sand before packing everything up and loading my car. On the ride to her place, I listened to Trace talk animatedly about the fish he caught, all while holding her hand on the console. I can’t get enough of that kid.
Now, I’m pulling into the parking area where her car sits to drop them off.
And I don’t want to.
I want to hang out.
Be with them.
Breathe in their energy and light.
As I stop my car, everyone seems a little slower to get out. Even Leni, who had a big list of things to do yet tonight, drags her feet. Outside, I open the trunk and start handing things to Trace that will stay here. When I get to the life jacket, I ask, “Do you want to keep it here or store it in my shed?”
He seems to consider his options, giving considerable thought to his choices. “Your place. Then it’ll be there when I go fishing again.”
I nod in agreement and set the vest back inside.
“What about the fishies?” he asks, pointing to the cooler that contains today’s catches.
“Well, I’ll get them filleted and cleaned up. I know you have an earlier bedtime for school, so what if I bring them over Wednesday and cook you dinner like we discussed the other day?” I offer, the idea just coming to me. Really, it’s a win-win. I get to see Trace and Leni in the middle of a busy week, even for just a little bit.
Which reminds me…
“We need to discuss your work schedule,” I say, looking over Trace and meeting Leni’s gaze. “You don’t need to be out late on Thursdays when Trace has school. Is there another day and time you’d prefer?”
“Well, my mom is already planning to help on Thursdays. She’ll get Trace in bed and stay until I get home.”
I consider her options. The right thing to do would be for me to move my standing weekly appointment so she doesn’t have to stay out so late on a school night, but there’s also a part of me that’s excited to spend that little bit of time with her, even if she’s working. She moves around my house so easily, even if she’s just cleaning, but I really like it.
“How about this. We’ll keep it as is for a bit, but if at any point it’s not working for you or Trace, you let me know and we’ll figure something else out, all right?”
The truth is I don’t even need her to clean my place. Sure, it’s helpful. I fucking hate to dust and only do it when I can write my name across my bookshelf. It’s because it’s her. My attraction and the fact I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. But I also refuse to be the reason she’s missing out on things with her kid. Sure, she might need the money from this job, but she needs time with Trace more.
“That sounds good,” she replies, unlocking the door. “Trace, run up and get ready for a bath.”
He sticks out his bottom lip and looks like he’s about to cry. “But…I want to hang out with Malcolm.”
Ahhh, dammit.
My heart starts to beat a little faster as I squat down in front of the boy. “Don’t be upset, Champ. I have to head home and get ready for work tomorrow, just like you have to go to bed so you can prepare for school this week.” I glance up at Leni for a second before I add, “Hopefully we can still do dinner one night this week. I’ll bring the fish here and cook them however you’d like. Then you can take your bath and get ready for bed.”
He throws his little arms around my neck and sniffles. “Will you read me a bedtime story when you’re here?” he asks, pulling back and turning those hazel eyes my way. I realize in this moment, I’d probably do anything he asked. In just a short amount of time, this little boy and his mom have wormed their way under my skin and into a place reserved solely for my family.
“You pick out the book, and I’ll read it. But…you have to promise to go to sleep so you’re ready for school. Deal?”
He nods and sniffles and then gives me the biggest, toothless grin I’ve ever seen.
I’m completely gone.
After work on Wednesday, I make sure I have everything I could need to make dinner at Leni’s place. Trace told me last night on the phone he wanted to fry his fish, and when his mom came back on the phone, she told me she has an air fryer I can use. Since I’ve never used one, I had to do a little internet browsing at the office this morning, but it seems pretty easy and straightforward. It sure as hell beats lugging around my deep fryer, which I’d still do if that’s what it took.
I’m also not embarrassed to admit I enlisted the help of my mom. She’s always loved to cook, especially baking. She offered to whip up a small batch of potato salad, which goes great with fish, as well as some of her famous creamy mac and cheese. Once I told her Trace would be there, she insisted on the dish, and when she delivered it to my office an hour ago, she even had still-warm chocolate chip cookies in a container.
Alexandra Wright is simply the best.
The drive to Leni’s is quick. As I approach the town square, I wave at a handful of residents out on the street. Some are window shopping in front of businesses, while others are filtering in or out of our restaurants, like Sauce It Up or the sub sandwich place. I can see kids on their bikes riding through the park, most likely on their way to the ice cream stand.
The streets seem busier now than they did midday.
I pull behind the laundromat and move to my trunk. The moment I start to unload, I hear, “Well, hello, Mr. Mayor.”
I turn and find Tate standing there, as if she just left the florist. I try to keep my face void of any emotion, but I’ll be honest, the last thing I need is to run into this woman when it appears I’m moving stuff into Leni’s apartment.
Tate Michaels runs the MC Scoop, the local gossip blog, and I’m one-hundred-percent certain I now know what prime piece of intel will be featured on the front page tomorrow. Hell, probably before that. Tate has an uncanny ability of sniffing out any dirt in this town and sharing it. As the mayor, as well as a single guy who has dated a lot, I’m often mentioned in her little online blabbermouth page. I’ve come to ignore it, not even bothering to read what she writes at this point.
“Hey, Tate. How’s it going?” I ask, leaving the rest of the food in the trunk.
“Good. I just stopped in and grabbed some flowers from my aunt,” she says, referring to Cybill, the owner of Blossom’s Florist.
“They’re gorgeous. Cybill does an amazing job.”
“Doesn’t she?” Tate glances down, spotting the small cooler and grocery bags on the ground at my feet. “So what are you doing? Headed somewhere special?”
I give her a polite smile. “Just dropping off some food for a friend.”
“Friend, huh?” she asks, her blonde hair pulled up high on her head. I can practically see the wheels spinning.
“Yep. Well, I’ll let you get your blooms home,” I state, grabbing the rest of my things from the trunk and closing the lid.
Just as I
do, Leni comes out and opens the door. “He’s freaking out in there because you haven’t come up yet. Oh, hi, Tate.”
The blonde woman waves and grins like she just won a prize. The gossip prize for the night. “Hi, Leni. So good to see you. Looks like you guys have plans.”
Before Leni can say anything else, I head for the door, my arms loaded with bags. “Night, Tate. Have a good one,” I state dismissively.
Leni holds open the door and sighs the moment it’s closed behind us. “Great. That’s going to be in her little blog tomorrow, isn’t it.” It’s not a question. We both already know the answer.
“’Fraid so. Don’t let it bother you, though, okay?” I instruct, leaning in and stealing a kiss from her lips before I proceed up the stairs.
Ever since I left her Sunday night with that goodnight kiss I was so looking forward to, I’ve thought of nothing else since. She’s an addiction. One kiss wasn’t enough, but it’s what kept me going until today.
As I head up the stairs, I find my favorite little guy standing at the top, watching me intently. It hits me that Trace could have very well seen me kiss his mom. For the first time. When I stole kisses Sunday night, Trace was already upstairs, getting ready for his bath.
“Hey, Champ,” I say hesitantly, as I step into the kitchen.
He looks at my arms and smiles. “Are those the fishes?”
“These are them, and some other stuff for dinner. How about you wash your hands and you can help me make dinner and tell me about your first day of school.”
I’m rewarded with a huge grin. “Okay!” he hollers, taking off at a sprint down the hall to the bathroom.
“Did he have a good day?” I ask, setting my bags down on the counter.
“He did,” Leni replies, putting the containers in the fridge. “He came out smiling and hasn’t stopped talking about it since. You’re probably going to regret asking him about it.”
I stop and face her, setting the Ziploc baggie of fresh fish down on the counter. When she moves in front of me, I gently grab her arms and pull her into my chest. Those slender fingers grip the back of my shirt as she rests her cheek against me. “I’ve been waiting all day to ask him. I can’t wait.”
A moment later, footsteps fly down the hall and a burst of brown-haired energy emerges into the room. “I’m ready, I’m ready!”
“One more story?”
Leni chuckles, shaking her head. “You’ve already had one more story, and you have school tomorrow.”
Trace sighs and glances up at me from the couch. “Will you read to me again soon?”
I move him so he’s sitting on my lap, instead of at my side. “Listen here, Champ. Hanging out with you, whether fishing at the lake, cooking fish in the kitchen, or reading three stories at bedtime, is starting to be the best part of my day.” I have to swallow over the sudden lump in my throat. “So, yes. Yes, I’ll read to you again. Very soon.”
Then, he throws his little arms around my neck and hugs me. “Night, night, Malcolm,” he whispers, stealing my heart. I close my eyes and just soak in the moment. I never thought I’d feel like this, not toward a woman, and especially not a kid. But this kid has sunk his hook into me so deep, I’m not sure I’ll ever be the same.
When he pulls away, I find myself unable to move. I watch as he hops down and reaches for his mom’s hand, ready to go to bed.
Leni glances back and asks, “You okay for a few minutes while I get him in bed?”
I nod. “Take your time.”
While they’re out of the room, I take a few minutes to really study her home. It’s definitely a small apartment, but she has all the essential space she needs for her and Trace. The kitchen is just big enough for a small round table and four chairs without being in the way. The living room houses a dark green couch with identical reclining chair, mismatched end tables, and small entertainment center with games and photos on the shelves. There’s a kid-size folding table and chairs in the corner, piled with coloring books, crayons, and puzzles and a basket of other toys on the floor beside it.
It’s cozy.
Homey.
I know there’s two bedrooms down the hallway, a bathroom, and a closet that houses the washer and dryer, but I only know that because I saw glimpses of the rooms when I used the bathroom earlier. I know her bedroom has basic white walls, but her bedding is vibrant flowers in blues, greens, and pinks. I know she keeps three decorative pillows on the made queen-sized bed. I know she has a rocking chair in the corner of the room, probably the one she used to rock her son to sleep when he was a baby.
Maybe someday I’ll get to see more of that room.
It doesn’t take too long before Leni rejoins me in her living room. “Sorry about that. He had to give me extra hugs and kisses for letting you read him one extra book.” Chuckling, I watch as she walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. “Would you like a beer?”
Oh, I definitely would. One will be fine, especially if it gives me more time here. “Sure. Thanks.”
Leni rejoins me on the couch and hands me the cold bottle. “I don’t usually keep beer in my fridge, but my sister left a few here last week when they stopped by for a visit.”
“You don’t? Because of Trace?” I ask, curiously.
She opens her mouth to reply, but stops herself. After a few seconds, she finally says, “No, not because of Trace. It was actually because of Greg. He drank all the time when he was home, loved to unwind as he called it. I stopped buying it because I felt like I was enabling him while he was there, and I didn’t want Trace to get accustomed to it, to think it’s okay to drink a dozen beers every night. One or two, hell, even a few, is fine. I’m not a prude. I like to drink, but when it comes between you and your family, your obligations, then it’s not worth it, you know?”
Damn, this woman slays me. Her strength and resilience are admirable, and the fact that she loves her son completely is evident. “I’m sorry you had to deal with that. It must not have been easy, single mom with no family close by.”
She takes a drink of her beer. “It wasn’t, but I managed. That’s part of the main reason I decided to come home. I just missed everyone. Long weekend visits weren’t the same. I wanted Trace to know his family.”
I reach out and brush hair off her forehead before trailing my fingers down the side of her beautiful face. With my other hand, I set my drink down on the table and slip a little closer. Her breath hitches as I draw near, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Can I kiss you?” I whisper, my lips hovering above hers.
She meets my gaze, her hazel eyes pooling with desire. “Only if you promise not to leave me unsatisfied.”
The corner of my lip turns up as a wicked smirk slowly stretches across my face. “Done, baby.”
Chapter 16
Leni
The moment his lips claim mine, heat and desire pool in my stomach and slide through my veins. I open my mouth instantly, and his tongue delves deep inside. I can feel my nipples drawing tight into little buds, a sign of just how much this man affects me.
From just a kiss.
But something tells me this isn’t just a kiss.
Malcolm cups my jaw and crawls up onto his knees, slowly leaning me back on the couch. He never once breaks the kiss. His body presses me into the cushions in the best way possible as he maneuvers his hips between my legs. When I hitch an ankle over his ass, he rolls his hips and applies the perfect amount of pressure to the apex of my legs.
I cry out, but it’s swallowed up by his mouth.
“You know, we could very easily get ourselves into some trouble here,” he mutters, his lips gliding down my neck.
“What do you mean?”
“Kissing you is like a sin. A sweet, sexy, dirty sin.” He nips at my flesh with his teeth. “Even though I shouldn’t do it, I can’t seem to stop myself.”
I close my eyes and revel in the amazingness of his mouth on my skin. “Who’s stopping you?” I ask, giving him complete access to my neck.
>
When he doesn’t reply, I open my eyes and meet his intense brown stare. “Me. I shouldn’t want you this badly. Not with your son just down the hall.”
“He’s a heavy sleeper,” I reason, letting lust completely overpower logic.
Malcolm chuckles, running his hand down my side and letting it rest on my hip. With a sigh he whispers, “Oh, Lenora. You’re a temptation I wasn’t expecting.”
It’s as if he didn’t mean to say that aloud.
I feel his hand everywhere as it explores my body. Yet, it never seems to land where I ache. He touches my side, stomach, and the leg hitched over his hip, but seems to avoid two key areas. The two places I’m dying for him to touch.
Just as I start to wonder if kissing is all that’s on the menu tonight, he shifts his weight and runs his hand straight down from my navel to the apex of my legs. “I really, really want to touch you.”
“Yes, please,” I practically beg.
His eyes lock on mine as he cups me, applying just enough pressure to send bolts of pleasure through my body. Heat from his palm sears me, and I can’t help but rock my hips up, needing more of this sweet torturous friction.
Malcolm adjusts his hand and slowly slips it under my shorts. I’ve never been more grateful for stretchy shorts in my life. His lips glide over mine as his fingers dance along the seam of my panties.
I’m just about to chastise him for drawing out the agony when he slips a finger beneath the elastic. His tongue dances with mine, a slow, seductive little number and his skin finally comes in contact with my most sensitive area. The first touch is like a jolt of electricity, hot and jarring to my overly stimulated senses.
Once he swirls his finger across my clit, he never lets up. His kisses become more insistent as he draws me closer to release. I barely have time to think, time to breathe. All I can do is feel. It’s overwhelming at first but so right.