by Shauna Allen
Yeah, God was right. Truth be told, I’d wondered a few times where He was those first months of colic and ear infections and puke and no sleep. After getting over their shock that I had a child, my mom and sister helped when they could, but the burden still fell to me and I felt so inadequate sometimes.
“That must’ve been so rough.”
I peered down to where her hand was clasped over mine. I flipped my hand so our palms met and linked our fingers. “It’s a wonder he survived.” I smiled into her eyes, trying to lighten the mood.
She didn’t smile. “Don’t cut yourself short, Trace. You’re pretty wonderful.”
Tori
Trace’s eyes held mine as the serious moment pulsed between us. It was obvious he’d bared his soul more than he intended and I wanted him to know I wouldn’t take advantage of that.
He was relaxed, if a bit more reserved, as he paid the bill and drove me home. He was the perfect gentleman, walking me to my porch and waiting while I unlocked the door. “Goodnight.”
He didn’t move to touch me or kiss me, and the feeling that I’d done something wrong began to weigh me down. With my hand on the knob, I faced him. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable and ruined a perfectly good night.”
His brows crinkled adorably. “What do you mean? You didn’t ruin anything. I had a great time.”
Stupid me. I’d been the hesitant one, pushing away anything that could possibly be between us because of my position with Ryder. I’d called tonight a pity date. Of course he wasn’t going to press for more. Smart. Sensible. I hated it.
But, I embraced his sensibility as I thanked him for a nice night and shoved open my door.
“Wait.” His big, warm hand clasped my bare arm.
I shifted slightly and faced him.
“Can we do this again sometime?”
The streetlight hit his hair just right, making it glow like fine scotch, and suddenly the subtle scent of his sandalwood soap wrapped around me as he inched closer.
“I . . . uh . . .” His nearness was making me dumb. I wanted him to kiss me again so I could get lost in him and forget all my doubts.
His thumb brushed my chin as he cupped my cheek. “We don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable, but I think we have something between us and I’m willing to see what it is if you are.”
Ah, to hell with it. I wrapped my arms around his neck and rose to tiptoe, crushing my mouth to his. After a surprised inhale, he dove right in and met my tongue with his own. Everything about this kiss was sexy and needy and tinged with desperation. Exactly how he made me feel.
Drawing back with a ragged breath, he pressed one last kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I take it that’s a yes?”
I smiled and clutched his shirt tighter rather than let it go like I meant to. “No.”
He pulled away and frowned down at me like a wounded puppy. “No?”
Laughing, I yanked him down for another quick kiss. “Yes.”
His hands slid down my back, dangerously close to my ass as I nuzzled into him. This whole thing may be hazardous for my career and credibility, but it was doing wonders for my heart. I hadn’t realized how desperately I needed someone to appreciate me simply for me until he came along and did just that.
“It’s a deal.” He released me and stepped back into the glow of the streetlight again. “But, seriously, if any kind of issues with your job come up because of me, you need to let me know.”
I promised him I would and closed myself inside before I could throw myself at him again.
Before I made it to my bedroom, my phone buzzed with a text.
What r u wearing?
I kicked off my sandals and smirked.
Nothing
Outside, I heard his car rev to a start. He didn’t answer for several moments and I worried I’d pushed it too far. I didn’t want to be a tease.
Me too . . . wanna c? ;)
I slapped a hand to my mouth and belly laughed. He was something else.
Absolutely, I texted back, unleashing a monster.
The sexy, flirty banter continued long into the night until about eleven, when he finally texted a serious goodnight. Then a kiss emoji.
I was smiling when I went to bed.
Saturday and Sunday the texting and phone calls continued, and I figured out two things about Trace Berringer.
1. He was truly a master of flirty wit.
2. He used that flirty wit to mask a truly tender heart.
The combo was proving to be a potent combination and I found myself thinking about him even between our communications. His sexy innuendos made me blush and made me want, and I’m sure he had no idea the glimpses he was giving me into his soul.
What else had I learned about the man who was quickly stealing my heart? The list was a mile-long, but for starters, he was fiercely devoted to his son. He loved his family, especially his sister, Brandi, who I was dying to meet after hearing how she tortured him by putting him in dresses and bows when he was a kid. Also, the dimples? A family trait. He dabbled in cooking and liked it . . . bonus points there since I wasn’t much for the kitchen. Favorite color: green. Favorite food: Double bacon cheeseburger with mushrooms. Vanilla instead of chocolate. Salty instead of sweet. He couldn’t sing to save his life. He loved Kung Fu movies and secretly loved musicals, though I was threatened with bodily harm if I ever divulged that little tidbit.
In turn, I told him more about my childhood and the precious time I spent with my grandparents at the Buffalo River in Arkansas, my memories of before my dad left, how Hope inspired me to pursue my current career, all my favorite things. Even my love of reality TV and Jerry Springer.
What I didn’t mention? How I’d never really had a best friend, but he was quickly changing that.
It was Wednesday—Homeroom Dad day—and I was giddy with the idea of seeing him in the flesh again after our hundreds of texts back and forth and half a dozen phone calls. As I typed up an ARD recommendation for a parent-teacher meeting that afternoon, there was a knock on my office door.
“Yes?” I called out, my attention still focused on my computer.
“Lunch for my lady.”
I glanced up, my fingers poised mid-sentence, as the scent of something spicy hit my nose. Snapping my mouth closed, I took in the glory that was Trace Berringer. It hit my brain a moment later that he’d called me his lady. I grinned and stood. “Wow. Thanks.”
He tipped his head toward my desk. “Busy?”
I slipped off my reading glasses and shook my head. “Not too busy for lunch. Is that Chinese?”
He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “It is.”
“Well done, sir. I’m starving.”
He grinned and placed the bag on my desk and started unloading the white cartons, making my mouth water. He must’ve remembered me saying how much I loved Asian food in one of our late night conversations. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” he commented as he handed me a napkin and fork.
“Oh.” I glanced at the hot pink frames in front of me. “Only for reading.”
“It’s cute.”
I snorted and grabbed the closest container, opening it to find sesame chicken. I dug in with what was probably unladylike manners, but frankly, I didn’t care. He was seriously my hero, and all it took was . . . “Are those eggrolls?”
He tipped a bag my way and I snagged one with a grateful smile. “Did you hear my stomach growling all the way at the shop?”
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he stabbed his fried rice with a plastic fork. “Sure did.” He laughed at my playful scowl. “I just wanted to have lunch with a pretty face before I became Mrs. Delgado’s slave . . . I mean helper.”
“Right—”
Another knock interrupted my defense of Angela. Everett popped his head in before I could answer. “Hey, Tori, wanna grab a . . .” He caught sight of Trace, who’d swiveled around to face him. “. . . bite? Well, never mind. Seems you’ve got that under control.” He stare
d at Trace a moment longer as if trying to place him before closing the door a bit harder than necessary.
Trace turned back to me with a frown. “Waldo still bothering you?”
Was that . . . jealousy? I softened. “No.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. Plus, I might’ve told him I’m seeing someone.”
His frown melted into a cocky grin. “Yeah?”
“Well, sure. The mailman’s been showing me a real good time.”
A wadded napkin grazed my shoulder. “Does the mailman deliver lunch?”
“Well, when you put it that way . . .”
We laughed as we finished our lunch, and I reveled in the easiness between us.
Trace checked his watch and stood as I collected our trash. “I’ve gotta get to Dad duty then back to the garage. Talk later?”
“Sure. Thanks for lunch.”
“You’re welcome.”
I stretched across my desk for his empty water bottle, but I was suddenly yanked up against a very hot, very hard body. I peered up into hooded eyes and spontaneously combusted into a puddle of hormonal goo. He kissed me with such sweet, sweet tenderness, it made me ache. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but I was rocked to the core. His fingers caressed my waist through my blazer as he stared down into my eyes.
“So, Blake and Delilah are having a little barbecue thing at their house this Saturday. All my friends will be there and I’m taking Ry. Will you come with us?”
“On one condition.”
“What’s that?” His thumb brushed dangerously close to my bra and I sucked in a breath.
“I promised Hope I’d come for lunch on Sunday after church. I’ll go with you if you come with me. I already talked to my mom about it.”
“Two dates in one weekend?” His dimples made a special appearance.
“I guess so.”
“How did I get so lucky?”
I shrugged. “It’s your kid. He’s a pretty big draw.”
He laughed. “So I’m learning. Should’ve seen it when I took him to the grocery store when he was a baby. The chicks . . .”
I swatted his arm and he laughed at me. “So, it’s a deal?”
He kissed the tip of my nose. “Oh, it’s most definitely a deal.”
“Okay then.” I gently shoved him back. “Go. I’m sure Mrs. Delgado has something for you to cut and glue.”
He feigned shock, his hand to his chest. “Oh, the horror.”
“Yeah, well, welcome to elementary school. The torture is just beginning.”
With a hearty laugh, he made his way out and I enjoyed the view of his backside in his perfectly faded jeans.
Not one minute later, Mrs. Tanner poked her head inside. “Who was that?”
I fought a smile at her wide-eyed expression. Trace was something to behold, even when he kept his mouth shut. “Ryder Berringer’s father.”
She peeked over her shoulder, her gray bun bobbling with the quick movement of her head. “Really?” She spun back to face me. “Wait. Wasn’t he the looker from the deli?”
“I . . . well, yes.” No point in lying.
“Huh.” She eyed me speculatively, as if seeing me for the first time. “Well done.”
She shuffled away before I could open my mouth to reply. But what would I have said? How open should I be with my personal life at work? Would the gossip mill eat me alive?
Ah, well, knowing Mrs. Tanner, it might be too late to stop it.
I shot my mom a quick text to let her know there would be two more for lunch on Sunday.
Her attempt at a smiley face emoji was my only reply.
Ever make that doctor appointment? I prodded.
She ignored me.
The rest of the afternoon was relatively quiet, and when I couldn’t contain myself any longer, I made a quick stroll of the halls. Nobody said anything or stared, so Mrs. Tanner must’ve kept her observations to herself.
I moseyed the fourth grade hall first, then around to Kindergarten. I purposely left first grade for last to prove to myself I wasn’t obsessive. As I passed Mrs. Delgado’s classroom, I was only going to peek in. I was a grown woman after all, in complete control of my faculties.
Yeah, okay.
I froze and stared like someone seeing the stars for the first time. Trace was sitting in one of the tiny red plastic chairs, his legs folded so his knees nearly touched his chest. His head was bent as a little girl with long, tangled hair regaled him about something, the project he’d been working on forgotten on the table in front of him.
I double-checked the empty hallway then pulled my cell phone from my pocket.
What r u wearing? I texted with a cheeky smile.
I waited. A moment later, he shifted and drew his phone from his back pocket and peered at the screen. A smile melted his face and he glanced up, catching my gaze. He ducked his head and typed out a reply with his blunt fingers.
Glue and glitter. Isn’t it sexy?
I can barely contain myself
I watched him suppress his laugh. Don’t tease. I’m not afraid to kiss you in front of everyone . . . even Waldo 8-)
When I glanced up, he was already heading to the door. I backed up, shocked and a little afraid of what he’d do.
The door swung open far enough for his head to pop out. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I echoed.
His eyes skated around the hall behind me then he lowered his voice with a hint of humor. “Consider this warning number one.”
“Warning?”
He glanced down and flicked some purple glitter from his shirt before meeting my gaze again, his eyes serious. “Yes. Just like Ry, I’ll give you three warnings before I’m forced to act. I can only take so much teasing.”
“I wasn’t teasing.” Well, maybe a little.
His brows lifted. “No? Well, I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
Trace
I began to believe Miss Tori was making it her mission in life to torture me. All hours of the day and night for the rest of that week, I got random, sexy but vague text messages.
Boxers or briefs?
Oops . . . I dribbled ice cream all down the front of my favorite Aerosmith shirt ;)
Did you read Fifty Shades? I’ve been wondering if all that stuff is even possible???
Thinking about a pole dancing class. What do u think?
Can I bring you a burger? Extra cheese AND bacon!
She was driving me absolutely insane. I started fighting fire with fire.
Commando.
Let me see. Maybe I can save Steven Tyler with my washing skills.
It’s possible. ; )
Absolutely. The bigger the pole the better
YES, YES, YES *foodgasm*
She was mysteriously quiet after that last one. I’d done good, if I did say so myself. I was going to see her tonight for Blake’s little get together and I was curious what she had up her sleeve next.
“Daddy?” Ryder hopped into my room, Nerf football in one hand, his favorite army guy in the other.
“What’s up, Buddy?” I finished lacing my tennis shoes and tucked my wallet and keys into my cargo shorts.
He climbed up onto my unmade bed and started bouncing. “Is Miss Waters coming with us to Uncle Blake’s house?”
“Yeah, why?”
He plopped to his butt with a big bounce. “Just wonderin’. I like her. You like her?”
“Yeah, I like her.” A lot.
“You gonna marry her so I can call her Mommy instead of Miss Waters?”
I froze, my heart stuttering in my chest like a caged bird. “Why would you ask me that, Ry?”
He shrugged and flopped back to stare at the ceiling, his little legs kicking in wide circles over the edge of the bed. “I dunno. She’s pretty and nice and you smile at her a lot. I guess that’s what mommies and daddies do.” He caught my gaze with his serious brown eyes. “Right?”
How the hell was I supposed to handle this? I fought the urge to d
uck and run for cover. I’d promised myself early on that I’d never lie to my kid unless I absolutely had to. With a hefty sigh, I sat next to him and patted his knee. “Come here.”
He scrambled up onto my lap and studied my face with the seriousness of a priest taking confession.
“You’re right. Miss Waters is pretty. Very pretty. And she’s nice. And those are great things for a mommy to be, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to be yours. We’re friends and she’s helping you. That’s it.” Okay. A watered down version of the truth. But seven-year-olds didn’t need to know about kissing and sexy text messages.
“But she’s coming to Uncle Blake’s.”
“Yes.”
“And we’re going to her house to meet her mommy tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
He thought a moment then shrugged. “Okay.” And just like that, he hopped down and flew out of my room.
“Wait!”
He came to a skidding halt in the hallway and spun back.
“Don’t forget your ball.” I tossed the Nerf football his way in my best quarterback impression, which he caught with ease.
He smiled and scampered away, probably to raid the Chips Ahoy before we left, if I knew my kid at all. I took a sec to catch my breath and ran a hand through my hair. That was all the explanation he needed? Huh.
If only it could be so simple where his biological mother was concerned.
I picked up my phone and stared at the damn voicemail indicator. I’d missed Kristi’s call last night, and there was no telling what was on the message. I closed my bedroom door and punched the buttons to listen.
“Hey, Trace. It’s me, Kristi. Again. I’ve been trying to reach you so we can make a plan for me to see Ryder. I’m trying to be understanding, I am. I know I left . . . look, I’ve given you plenty of time to prepare him and I want to see my son. Don’t make me force the issue. Call me back.”
I listened again before deleting it, focusing this time on the noise in the background. It sounded like she was at a bar with people laughing and glasses clanking. And, if I didn’t know better, I’d think she’d had one too many.
Damn it.
I hated that I was in this fucked up position, with no one to blame but myself. But I’d be damned if I let her slide right back into Ry’s life, a perfect stranger, and confuse him. I’ve worked hard to make his life normal and happy and as secure as possible.