“So, you’ve got a degree in child psychology now or something?” I chuckle snidely.
“It’s just common sense,” he says in a serious tone. “You’re not doing the people around you any favors when you’re moping all the damn time.”
I hate the way his words resonate with me. It feels like he might actually be right. I don’t want that to be the case. Needing to move the conversation away from this territory, I change the subject. “Enough about me. What are you up to, man?”
The grin in his voice travels over the line. “Just got back from another tour. Alive and well and ready to make the most of it.”
I lean an elbow against the cold concrete. “What exactly does that mean?”
“It means that I jumped in my dad’s old Chevy and I’m riding around this country from city to city, living my life to the fullest.”
“Before you head back for another tour?”
“You know it. That thing is in my blood, man. I need to be out there. Desert. Jungle. It doesn’t matter. I’ve got to be doing what needs to be done to defend our great country.”
He can’t see me but I nod in understanding. That sense of duty is what propelled me into the service in the first place but now that Mara has bailed on our family, my duty is to my son.
Brent comes first.
He always comes first.
“Don’t leave before you call me again,” I tell Archie.
“Sure thing. And if you need to reach me, you can call this number. Any time of day. All right?”
“All right.”
“And Leo?”
“Yeah?”
“Get your dick wet.”
On those words of wisdom, he hangs up.
Chapter Seventeen
Reese
"Martha Booker ordered a wedding cake from us?" Vivian's voice booms into the kitchen and the click of her three-inch pumps echoes through the room.
"Uh-huh..." is all I offer as I squeeze the peanut butter frosting over the top of the jelly-filled cupcake sitting on the counter in front of me.
"Martha Booker is getting married?" I hear the very distinct waiver in her voice.
Struggling not to roll my eyes, I carefully set the cupcake on the serving tray and move on to the next one. "Yup, she's getting married. That's why she ordered a wedding cake," I quip.
That ticks my sister off. "Okay, you really need to not be snarky right now, Theresa!"
Vivian’s biological clock ticks louder than the water-resistant analog watch on my wrist informing me that it’s 7:45 in the morning. The bakery opens in fifteen minutes. I’m running behind and I don’t have time for this conversation. And more importantly, I shouldn’t have to deal with my older sister yet. She doesn’t need to be here until 11:00, right before the lunch rush. But, as usual, she’s here several hours early to be a pain in the butt. Viv makes the bakery the center of her universe…when she isn’t obsessing over the fact that she’s still not married.
Today, her pestering is particularly unwelcome because I’m still thinking about Leo. Ever since he kissed me, this crush has morphed into a monster.
The taste of his lips still lingers in my mind. The feel of his large hands is imprinted on my skin. And yesterday, I opened up my big, stupid mouth and told him that I don’t want him.
That couldn’t be further from the truth.
I want him. More than I’ve ever wanted any man. I want to taste those lips again. I want to taste every tight, tanned, paint-speckled inch of his skin. But I know that’d only be trouble. That’s why I brushed him off yesterday.
My sister is still glaring at the side of my head.
Ugh! Not today. Please.
Vivian falls apart every time she learns that one of the girls she went to school with is engaged or having a baby. Her 30th birthday is peaking its head around the corner, and every now and then, it jumps out and spooks her.
"Martha Booker used to pick her pimples to the point that they were bleeding. In the middle of Geography class! And she's getting married..." My sister's voice trails off and I hear her ask the silent question that's always on the tip of her tongue; What's wrong with me?
I set down the icing tube and turn to face her. She stands in front of me with glassy eyes, wearing her pearl earrings and pale pink floral dress, cinched tight at the waist. She looks like the ultimate 1950s housewife, as usual. "Viv, it's not a contest," I say softly. "You'll meet someone. When the time is right."
She huffs. "I'm not jealous. Please! I feel sorry for whoever would marry Martha Booker. The guy must be a real lemon." Before I can respond, she changes the topic. “Did you work on that sales report I asked you for?”
“I haven’t had time,” I say. My mind immediately swerves to what I ended up doing the last time I sat down to prepare that report. The memory of Leo’s kiss invades my senses. I feel light-headed.
“Well, did you at least read the Bakery Customer Trend Research Paper that I emailed to you last week?” Her tone is decidedly judgy.
I lift a shoulder and let it fall. “No time.”
She folds her arms across her chest and exhales heavily. “Reese, if you want to be a partner in this business, you’re gonna have to start acting like one.”
Am I really your partner, Vivian? ‘Cause you kinda sorta act like I’m your little bitch.
She throws her arms up exasperatedly. “Man—I ask you to do the most basic thing and you have to drag your feet.”
I sigh roughly and glance at my watch. 7:52. She’s really killing my vibe right now. “Viv, let’s not do this…”
"I need you to step up, Theresa. I have a lot on my plate and sometimes, you're no help."
"That's not fair—"
She won’t hear me out. Instead, she starts counting off items on her fingers. "The health inspector’s coming by for a kitchen inspection next week. The fire department sent a letter claiming we're not up to code. The permit office is holding up our terrace permit for some reason. There’s a lot on my plate."
“Viv, I understand that you have a lot on your plate. But so do I. I start work at 4 in the morning. I’m on my feet all day. Then, I have to rush out of here to get Brenton from school and he usually wants to go to the park for a few minutes. Then, I take him home, cook for him, bathe him—"
Vivian interrupts me. “Wait—who’s Brenton?”
“The kid who lives next door to me. It’s just him and his dad, Charlie’s friend, Leo.” I say it matter-of-factly. Total indifference. Nonchalance. No big deal.
She looks utterly baffled. “Why are you babysitting the kid who lives next door to you? Do you have the hots for his dad?” She plants one hand on her hip and watches me suspiciously.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Viv. I do not have the hots for Leo.” My stomach tightens on the lie. “I’m just being a good neighbor. Lending a helping hand. The guy is going through a divorce and he’s obviously overwhelmed so I’m helping out.”
Her disbelieving expression deepens. “Seems like a big responsibility to take on out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Well, Charlie thinks it’s a good idea.” My voice is all high-pitched and defensive.
She rolls her eyes. “Then maybe you should ask Charlie to do the sales report since his opinions are getting in the way of you doing your job.”
I throw my head back and groan. My sister is infuriating. “Look—Viv, I’ll do the damn report, okay? If that’s what it takes to get you off my back. But I really, really think we should hire some help.”
“We can’t afford to hire help.”
“I’m sure if we looked at our budget, we could squeeze it in somehow. We’re burning ourselves out.”
She gives me a hard look but instead of arguing, she spins around causing the full skirt of her dress to twirl like a petulant ballerina. She stomps in the direction of the office. Her steps halt in the doorway and she glances at me over her shoulder. “You sure nothing’s going on between you and your neighbor?”
I lie
again. “Nothing’s going on.”
She inspects my face for a solid ten seconds. Then her eyes go round and panicked eyebrows lift high on her forehead. “I swear to god—if I find out you’re getting married before me, I’m going to murder you.”
I wince hard as she continues her procession into the office and slams the door behind her.
Chapter Eighteen
Leo
“Daddy, you know what Reese told me?” Brenton’s dark eyes gleam excitedly as he peers up at me.
Just the mention of that girl’s name and I feel sparks under my skin. Pulling in a deep breath, I maintain my neutral demeanor.
I look down at my son and smile. “What did Reese tell you?”
“She told me that black bears sleep aaallll winter long!” He stretches the word out and spreads his arms wide.
“Uh-huh?” I say as I pull his too-tight dinosaur pajamas over his head and down over his belly. Shit, I still haven’t made time to take him shopping. I really need to get on that. I won’t let him be that kid in school who everyone laughs at because his pants only get to his ankles.
“Yeah! And Reese said that black bears even know how to swim. Isn’t that cool?”
I crouch down in front of him and use my fingers to brush his hair out of his face. “Very cool, buddy.”
He’s silent for a while, deep in contemplation, as he wiggles into his pajama pants. Then he looks at me and grins. “And she said that they eat salmon, too. Just like we had for dinner.”
Seems I’m not the only man in this house who can’t get Reese off my mind. Brenton is in love with her. Already. I see why. She’s someone you can't not like. She’s kind, funny, patient. And she always smells so good. No matter how much I try, I can't help but feel better when I’m near her.
She told me point blank that she’s not interested in me and I hate that I wish she were. I find myself imagining what it would be like to have her close, to have her in my life. But that’s not gonna happen. I have to settle for Reese as just my neighbor, just my babysitter. What choice do I have?
I look at my son and offer him a small nod. He frowns at my lack of enthusiasm. “I thought you liked salmon.”
I nod again to give him what little assurance I can muster. “I like salmon. A lot.” We smile at each other and for one split second, I forget to be a total grouch.
Brent pulls away from me and climbs into the bed. “Reese said she’ll take me to the petting zoo when they come to town soon. She told me not to tell you because she has to ask your permission first.”
I chuckle curtly at my little snitch. “Maybe you shouldn’t spill Reese’s secrets ‘cause next time she won’t tell you anything.”
Twisting his lips to the side, he seems to consider my statement. “You’re right, daddy. Nobody likes a tattletale.”
Laughing, I ruffle his hair and sit on the edge of the mattress. “So, what story do you want to read tonight?”
He peers over at the pile of books sitting on the chair in the corner. I haven’t installed his shelf yet. I’ve been meaning to get to that. And I should put some pictures on the wall. Maybe even some posters. Make the place a little homier. Kids need that sort of thing, right? Some semblance of stability? Add that to my to-do list.
Once Brent selects his book, I scoot closer and he crawls into my arms so he can read along with me. He points out the pictures, giving me a running narrative of the story. He even tries sounding out some of the words on his own. When we’re done with the book, I tuck him in, kiss his head and turn off the light.
I creep down the stairs into the kitchen to eat the food that Reese gave me tonight, salmon with mashed potatoes and vegetables. The smell of it as it warms in the microwave has my mouth watering.
Pulling a chair up to the counter, I collapse in front of my meal, absolutely exhausted. I worked hard today, hauling bags of cement, painting ceilings, installing flooring. As soon as I’m done eating, I plan to go straight to bed.
The mail sits next to my plate. I open the envelopes one by one as I eat. At first, it’s nothing interesting. Just bills. Credit card. Electricity. Internet. As I’m polishing off the last bite of broccoli and carrots, I get to the thick white envelop at the bottom of the pile.
My heart immediately starts thudding when I see the logo stamped into the top left corner. The scales of justice. A judge’s gavel.
My hands are shaking as I rip the envelope open and pull out the sheaf of papers. My vision goes red and agony scorches my chest as the finality of it sinks into my stomach. Mara actually went through with it…
It’s the divorce judgment. My divorce is final.
Chapter Nineteen
Reese
I peek in through the glass pane of the sliding door and I see Leo’s big, hulking form. He’s facing away from me, leaning against the counter.
God—his back is so wide and strong. I want to sweep my fingers across it and feel his corded muscles bunching under my touch.
The deserted territory a few inches south of my belly button gets rather excitable (read: wet) whenever I'm near him. Having him next door is seriously counteracting the Sahara-like conditions that have dominated the region for the past year or so. Get a hold of yourself, girl.
I slide the door open and his head snaps in my direction. He gives me a feral look that has caution spooling in my belly. “Hey…” My pace slows as I try to read his features.
He laces his fingers together behind his neck. The mix of emotions in his eyes is raw and alarming as he begins to pace the linoleum floor in circles. His expression is one of desperation, loneliness, anger, sadness and every type of need imaginable. It's all rolled up into the creases of his forehead, the tension in his shoulders, the frantic energy pulsing off of his body.
“Leo?” I venture an inch closer.
One big hand scrubs down his face before inching up the back of his head to cup his scalp. His breath comes out in sharp, fast spurts causing his chest to heave.
"Leo, talk to me. You're really, really scaring me."
He pauses. He looks at me. His hooded stare is so intense that I feel it tightening the knot in my stomach.
My breathing hitches when he explodes into motion, charging across the room, coming at me with an urgency that sends my entire system into a panic. With a husky growl, he grabs my face in his hands and his open lips make contact with mine.
My body responds sharply. The bag of vegetables slips from my hands. Awareness floods every inch of me and every nerve ending tingles. His mouth is wet and hot and when my lips part to moan, his tongue invades the crevice.
This kiss isn’t like the first one. The first one was soft, needy, curious. An inquisitive exploration.
This one is savage, primal.
This kiss is necessary for his survival.
I can feel it with every groan that rumbles in his chest, with every thrust of his tongue against mine. He needs saving.
And fuck—I wanna be a hero.
I kiss him hard, looping my arms around his neck as my heartbeat explodes over and over against my ribs. He tastes so masculine. His body is so hard and strong, pressed flush with mine. And his erection—god, I want him to use that long, stiff cock as a weapon. To brutalize me with pleasure. I’m damn well ready to beg for it.
Our lips separate and it’s almost painful. His voice is raspy and thick. “Holy hell, Reese.”
“I need you…” I hear myself groan.
“I should stop,” he growls. “Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head vigorously. “Hell no,” I say in a wispy voice. “We’re fucking tonight.”
He tears at my leggings, ripping them down my thighs as I slide my hands into his waistband and grate my nails over his taut, muscular ass. His hands grip the outsides of my thighs and he lifts me. My legs wrap around him and I angle my core to feel the hard, thick length of his erection under the fabric of his jeans. I’m aching to have him inside of me, my body is screaming for the sweet, rough fiction of h
im pistoning his cock into my pussy. I want it so bad I could cry. My eyes flutter shut and I whisper his name.
Gripping the edge of the kitchen table behind me, Leo lowers himself to his knees. My arms stay locked around him as my ass touches the cold floor.
My hands are under his shirt, exploring the tight planes of his back and shoulders, tracing across his ribs. He’s kissing my neck, running his mouth across my collarbone.
A guttural sound breaks free of my throat, a voice so thick and raw that I barely recognize it as my own. "Oh god, Leo. Please tell me you're going to fuck me right now."
Our lips are barely centimeters apart. His warm breath mixes with mine in the narrow space between us. "I'm going to fuck you, Reese." He rocks his body into mine, grinding his denim-covered erection on my satin-clad cunt. "Do you want that? Do you want me to fuck you?" he grits out.
My head is light and dizzy. "Yes. Do it. Fuck me. Now."
Breathing hard, he unbuckles his belt. His hands move furiously, pushing his pants and boxers out of the way. His majestic cock bursts free. I hold my breath.
I could make a million and one big-dick puns about carpentry tools right now but I respect you too much to throw all that cheesiness your way. I'll just say this—it’s big. Very big. Thick with a broad crown, pulsing as a single drop of precum beads at the tip. And it's gorgeous. Penises aren't usually gorgeous but this one is. On a list of the 50 Most Beautiful Dicks in the world, this one would definitely hit the top.
With his palm caressing me between the legs, Leo opens a box sitting at the foot of the kitchen table. That box of sexual paraphernalia that Charlie dropped off the other day. Leo pulls out a pack of condoms.
I whimper. This is really happening. This is really happening.
His lips lock on mine and he crawls over me, coaxing my body down. And now, my back is against the floor. I can feel the chill of the linoleum seeping through my shirt. But the heat of his chest presses me to the floor as his mouth slides down to my chin, sucking at my jaw, my throat, my shoulder blade.
The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series Page 10