by Anya Summers
She inhaled a deep, calming breath. It was just a fever, not the plague. He’d survive it.
Cora directed Garrett to her condo. It was a nice place. Not overly large, but she and Milo didn’t need a lot of space. Plus there was a finished basement where Milo could play all winter long. She had plans—plans to have her own studio one day and a small house with a yard and a dog for her son.
“Why didn’t you tell me you have a child?” Garrett asked, taking the last right onto her street. And there it was. He’d been chewing over that little tidbit since they’d left the club.
“It never came up.” She didn’t plan on getting into it with him tonight. She was dead on her feet already and if Milo was sick, that meant no sleep for her. There were days Cora was so exhausted she knew if she was given the chance, she would sleep for days. She had this ongoing fantasy of lying on the beach and doing absolutely nothing for days on end.
“You didn’t think it was relevant?”
“I didn’t think my son was any of your business. We slept together, Garrett, we didn’t say I do. We’re not even dating.” Why was he being so difficult about this? Especially when it truly had nothing to do with him. Was it pride? Or was it something more, like he was pissed she had a child in the first place? If that was the case, she couldn’t help him with it, nor did she care.
“You should have told me,” he chewed out, his voice low and rather curt.
She ignored his comment as he pulled up in her driveway.
“Thanks for the ride.”
She hopped out of his truck before he could stop her. In the morning, she’d have to figure out a way to retrieve her minivan, but that was a problem for tomorrow. She just hoped she wouldn’t need to take Milo to the emergency room.
Garrett cut his truck engine off and followed her up the walkway to the front door. Cora ignored him. She didn’t have time to hand hold him, stroke his ego and make him feel better when her son was ill. The fact that he trailed her inside and closed the front door behind him infuriated her. This was what made her shy away from the Doms at the club. Their arrogance, their whole ‘we are the masters of the universe and we will get our way regardless of your feelings on the matter’ attitude.
The front door opened into her living room. The first floor was an open floor plan with no wall dividing the living room from the kitchen. The room flowed shotgun style from the tan carpeted living room to the kitchen with warm walnut-colored cabinets. There was a kitchen island with an ivory granite countertop that offset the two rooms. The living room was by far the larger of the two areas.
Her heart dropped into her toes. Rayna was trying to rock Milo, pacing with him in the kitchen. And her son was having none of it. His sobs gripped her heart.
“How is he?” She raced to Rayna’s side, dropping her purse on the counter and reaching for her little boy.
When Milo spied Cora his cries increased and he squirmed in Rayna’s arms to get to her. “Mama.”
She picked him up. His skin was hot to the touch. “I’ve got you.”
“His temperature is still 102,” Rayna said and then she stepped back as Garrett entered her tiny kitchen.
“Rayna, this is Garrett. Garrett, Rayna. If you both will excuse me, I’m going to see if a bath will cool him off while I call the emergency pediatrician.”
“Pleasure. What I can I do?” Garrett asked.
“Go home,” she said with a dismissive glance, then turned her attention back to Rayna. The tiny brunette was the first friend she’d made in town and lived next door. She was a freaking godsend. “Thanks for everything. Sorry he was such a problem.”
“It’s no problem at all. He’s normally a sweetheart. Bye, Milo, we’ll hang out again. Feel better soon, sweetie,” Rayna said and then gave Garrett a wide berth as she headed out the front door. Rayna tended to avoid men at all costs. There was a story there—one Cora hoped, given time, Rayna would tell her about.
Cora left Garrett standing in her kitchen, and took the stairs up to the second-floor bathroom with her son. His whimpers were making her heart squeeze.
“Hush, baby. I know you don’t feel good. But I’ll make it all better,” she soothed as best as she could.
Milo’s face was tear-stained. She turned on the bathtub faucet, setting the temperature to lukewarm. Putting the stopper in the drain, she knelt beside the tub and began undressing Milo.
While she undressed her son she called the emergency line for his new pediatrician, holding the phone with her shoulder. This time of night there was no answer, but she did leave a message for the nurse. Then she set her phone on the bathroom counter and placed her feverish little guy in his bath. Milo didn’t like the cool water and struggled. It broke her heart to put him through any discomfort, but she had to get his fever down or they would have to go to the emergency room.
“Mama, no bath,” he cried, trying to wriggle out of her hold. A wet toddler trying to squirm out of your hands was a bit like trying to hold on to a greased pot-bellied pig.
“I know it’s no fun. But it will make you feel better. I promise,” she replied gently.
“Mama.”
“I know, baby. Just a little bath to cool you off, okay?”
“What do you need?” Garrett’s deep baritone filled the bathroom. She glanced over her shoulder and discovered the man of the hour standing there. His large frame filled the doorway. She ignored the sucker punch of lust just the sight of him in his jeans and black and white flannel did to her system.
“Thought I told you to leave,” she said as sweetly as she could without alarming her son, all while proceeding to glare at the pigheaded man until he got a clue and left her home. But then she noticed Milo’s attention was riveted on the cowboy. In fact, he’d stopped struggling, giving Garrett huge owl eyes, and was no longer crying, just hiccupping from crying for so long.
Her arms were elbow deep in the tub, holding Milo when her phone rang. Of course, because this was how her night was going to go.
“You want to help? Answer it,” she snapped.
“You sure?”
“Yep,” she said. The man said he wanted to help.
She listened to him say hello and then he addressed her. “It’s the nurse line.”
“I figured,” she said. “Here, can you hold him, make sure he doesn’t go under or get water in his eyes while I talk to the nurse.”
She thought he would balk. Most men, when it wasn’t their kid, were out the door faster than she could blink. But not Garrett. Oh no, he didn’t hesitate. He knelt down beside her as she dried a hand on her jean shorts.
He handed over her phone. “What’s his name?”
“Milo,” she said, taking the phone from him and standing. Milo seemed fascinated by the man in the cowboy hat.
She spoke with the nurse while Garrett entertained her son. The tow headed, fatherless little boy was drawn to the six-foot, manly cowboy like he’d just discovered a brand-new toy.
The nurse was speaking in her ear. “Keep administering Tylenol every four hours. I will make an appointment for you to bring him in to the pediatrician tomorrow at ten fifteen. If his fever gets any worse, take him to the emergency room.”
“I have him in a lukewarm bath to try and help get his fever down a bit.”
“That’s good. Try to get a lot of liquids into him as well. With the fever he will be dehydrated,” the nurse said.
“I will. I’ve got some Pedialyte on hand.”
“That should do the job nicely. And you’re all scheduled for ten fifteen tomorrow morning.”
“Thanks,” Cora said and she meant it.
“No problem. Call us back if you need anything else,” the nurse said and disconnected the call.
Cora stood, leaning against the bathroom counter, staring at the scene before her. She was rather amazed. Garrett had Milo laughing. And not just any type of laugh, but his deep in the belly, full body laughs.
Who the hell was this guy who could send her to the height
s of passion with a simple kiss and charm her son in under a minute?
Chapter 8
Garrett helped Cora get her sick son to bed. And it was a fucking process. How she did it, and made it look so effortless, he had no clue. As the night wore on, he began to view her with a new regard. She wasn’t a piece of delicate fluff and perhaps that was why he was so attracted to her in the first place. There was substance and depth, a quiet strength inside her as she soothed Milo, rocking him, caring for her son, not stopping or complaining.
She had to be exhausted. She’d gone from working on her feet at the club to this.
She’d not changed out of her work clothes, she’d only removed her boots. And it did something to him, seeing her painted pink toenails as she paced the floor in the boy’s bedroom, decorated with cars and robots and superheroes. For a woman who obviously had her hands overfull, she still took time out for the little things, like painting her toenails.
The desire Garrett had to claim her at the club, have an exclusive relationship with her, was not only still present but even more pronounced. But when he’d first suggested the idea at the club, it had been because he wanted her body to himself, so that he could satiate this unrepentant need he had for her until the passionate fire sputtered out between them and came to a natural conclusion.
Except, in the few hours that they’d been at her place, he wondered if there could be more now that he’d seen her with no filter and without the club around them. She was earthy and real. He’d thought she was breathtaking before and now, seeing the whole package was enough to bring him to his knees to worship her.
She was a goddess among mere mortals.
This was new territory and he’d need to tread with the utmost care. Garrett had typically avoided getting involved with a woman who had a child. Not that he had anything against children, he didn’t. He liked kids. He adored his nieces dearly, but he’d never necessarily envisioned having a rug rat of his own. He was thirty-six and had never felt pulled to procreate. There were over seven billion people currently inhabiting this planet so his genes weren’t necessary for the continuation of the species.
But Cora had this whole earth mother, fertility goddess thing going on. It was sexy as hell and making him reconsider his stance.
Round and round they went with her son intermittently crying and falling asleep only to awaken once more. Garrett had survived basic training and decided he would far prefer to repeat that experience because it would be easier than dealing with a sick child.
It was three a.m. before Milo truly went down for the count. With a baby monitor clutched in Cora’s dainty hand, they tiptoed down the stairs.
In her kitchen, she poured them each a glass of Jameson she filched from an upper cabinet. The kitchen itself was fairly up to date, comprised of deep walnut cabinetry and ivory granite countertops with stainless steel appliances. She’d added nice touches to it like a cookie jar in the shape of a teddy bear and a row of colorful cooking oils by the stove. He leaned against the half-moon kitchen island, his hands in his pockets as he studied her. Exhaustion had created dark smudges beneath her eyes. It made them appear more luminous, the shadows he’d noticed earlier not hidden as well.
Garrett had to fight back a yawn himself. His day had started at five in the morning and he was closing in on twenty-two hours without sleep.
She handed him a glass of the whisky before she leaned back against the opposite counter near the sink. Her shoulders were hunched as she took a sip of the potent amber liquid as if she was barely keeping herself vertical. Then she looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time that night. Her cinnamon stare was softer, more at ease and approachable than she had been all night. “Thank you. You really didn’t have to stay.”
The sweet mellow tone of her voice lanced through him. Even her voice was sexy, the throaty alto curled inside his chest. “It looked like you had your hands full and could use the help.” He took a swig, enjoying the burn of the alcohol down his throat and into his belly.
“But still, thank you.” She chewed on her lip and looked pensively into the glass in her hand. She didn’t look lost or alone, but resigned. Resigned to the fact that he would leave, and she would tackle whatever happened next. Garrett, for all his privilege in life, had been through some epic shitstorms. But he had breaks from the hard times—hell, he could take a vacation down to Pleasure Island during singles week and find a bevy of available subs to play with. When was the last time Cora had gotten a break?
“If you don’t mind me asking, where’s his father?” Garrett asked and noticed her flinch and the sorrow flit over her visage before she squared her shoulders.
“He died when I was six months pregnant with Milo. Jeff and I had just celebrated our second wedding anniversary and then he was gone.”
Oh, baby. That meant she’d raised Milo on her own. Garrett was startled by how much he cared, how much he wished that he could ease her burden and protect her.
“I’m sorry. How did he die? Was he ill?” he asked, taking another draught of whisky.
She shook her head. “No. He was a firefighter. His station was part of a crew that responded to a fire at a warehouse on the Seattle waterfront. He led the team that went inside to extinguish the fire. Part of the roof collapsed and he and another guy from his station never made it out.”
She cleared her throat, but he spied the tears. Garrett crossed the few feet between them and tugged her into his arms. She didn’t fight him but held on, her arms wound around him. Laying his cheek against the crown of her head, he caressed her back, trying to lessen her tension.
“You’ve raised him all alone?” he murmured.
“Life didn’t leave me very many choices in the matter. And Milo, he’s easy—most of the time. It’s the rest of my life I can’t seem to get a handle on.”
“Look, it’s clear that you could use the job at my resort. Come work for me.”
She sighed audibly. “I don’t want your pity, Garrett. I think Mountain Top will work just fine. Between that and my job at the club I’ll be fine.”
“It’s not pity. I’m amazed by you. But perhaps you don’t have to work two jobs and could just work at the resort. Since you’re unsure of me and the resort we could make it temporary or part-time in the beginning, with a class or two a day to see if you like it. We have a daycare center in the resort that you would be able to use free of charge,” he said, sweetening the pot. He wanted her working for him. He wanted her both in his bed and the resort.
“I’ll think about it. I don’t know if Matt will allow me to work both places.”
It was progress. He’d take the small victory and keep working on her.
“You let me handle Matt,” he murmured, his hands rubbing gentle circles on her back. She smelled like sunshine and whisky. He inhaled her, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. Christ, he had it bad. And that worried him.
She heaved a sigh, her body losing some of the rigid tension. “I promise you I will consider it. It would be nice to have my evenings back for Milo. Why are you doing this? What’s in it for you?”
Garrett cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “Because I want you. I’ve wanted you since that first night and I still do.”
Her eyes widened and she moistened her bottom lip with her tongue. “Just like that?”
“Yep. I’ll show you.”
He ran his thumb over her bottom lip, enjoying the way her pulse kicked up as desire entered her gaze, turning her eyes molten. Garrett lowered his mouth, keeping their gazes connected. When his mouth was an inch away, he waited for her, for her surrender. She had to want this, too, want him. Her breath washed over him, smelling of Jameson. Her nails dug into his lower back. Then her lips parted, and she sucked the thumb caressing her bottom lip into her sweet mouth.
Pleasure washed over him. Cora was a tempting seductress and didn’t even realize it. She nipped his thumb, grazing her teeth over him, causing his stomach to clench and his dick to harden i
n his jeans. She’d pressed the all systems launch button. It was on.
On a rough groan he withdrew his thumb and claimed her lips. He savored her subtle flavors, the nuances of her delectable mouth. Took his time learning which kiss made her sigh, which made her pliant, and which one made her cling to him passionately. The little mewls she issued were like gasoline on a lit match. They ignited a maelstrom of need. He couldn’t get enough of her. Slanting his lips more firmly against hers, Garrett ate at her mouth, reveling in her passionate whimpers, in the way her head tipped back and she gave herself over to his mastery.
His hands trailed down the smooth lines of her back to palm her ass. Cora slid her hands up his chest and buried them in his hair, knocking his hat off. He couldn’t care less because she wanted him—so much so, she was holding his mouth on hers.
Fuck, he loved the feel of her in his arms. And he craved her, needed to feel the sweet clasp of her succulent cunt gripping him once more. He undid her shorts, shoving them over her hips until they fell unimpeded to the floor. Cupping her ass, he lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He groaned at the contact.
“Garrett,” she moaned. Her heavy-lidded gaze flashed open and stared at him. He needed to be inside her.
“Just hold onto me, sweetheart, and trust me.”
Cora wrapped her arms around his neck and nibbled on his ear. Christ, the woman had a mouth on her. One of these days, he was going to give her free reign with his body, but not right now. He needed her too fucking badly.
Garrett took two steps and pressed her back against the stainless-steel fridge, using the sturdy appliance for support. With one hand he held her ass as he reached with the other into his back pocket and filched the condom from his wallet.
He captured her mouth again, plunging his tongue inside to curl around hers. She tasted like whisky and Cora. And Cora was kissing him back with such fire, clinging to him until they were both breathing heavily.