Pocketful of Sand

by M. Leighton

  But despite those positives, I worry that if she gets too attached to him and things don’t work out between us, she’ll be crushed. And she’s been hurt enough by the men in her life. I don’t want to risk scarring her further.

  Maybe if Cole does call me back, I should have a talk with him about boundaries. Maybe I should have a talk with myself about boundaries.

  After her bath, Emmy reads two of her favorite stories to me before her bedtime. As I watch her lips move and her eyes scan, as I listen to the brilliant way her young mind works, I pray that I won’t do anything to hurt her, intentionally or not. Children shouldn’t know hurt and fear the way she’s known them. Maybe that’s enough to last her a lifetime. Maybe the rest will be smooth sailing.

  When she’s asleep, though, without her presence to distract me, the night drags on. I try to watch television, but nothing interests me. I find myself glancing outside repeatedly, looking for what I don’t know.

  Well, yes I do. It’s not a what; it’s a who.

  Cole. When I’m not actively thinking about something else, he’s on my mind. I click off the television and go to the kitchen for some water, my eyes automatically drawn to the house diagonal from mine. I wonder if he stays there at night. He was obviously staying there the night I went to get him. How many other nights has he spent there? Is he there now? If he is, why hasn’t he come over? Why haven’t I heard from him?

  My endless spool of unanswered questions is enough to give me a headache, so I grab two Tylenol and take up a book that I bought from Jordan’s limited selection a couple of weeks back. I do my best to lose myself in it and let the heat from the fireplace sooth away my tension.

  I wake up nearly two hours later, my book open and resting on my chest, the fire nearly died down. I’m almost grateful for the prospect of sleep. Trying not to think about Cole has been as frustrating as it’s been exhausting.

  I stoke the fire, cut off the lights and head for bed. I must fall immediately to sleep, because it seems like a dream when I feel soft-yet-firm lips brush mine and a cool hand skates up the inside of my thigh.

  I drift in that place between dream and reality for a few more seconds, enjoying the warm, liquid feel in my stomach and the ache that has started between my legs. But when cold air hits me as the covers are drawn slowly away from my body, I come groggily awake.

  “Am I dreaming?” I say aloud.

  “No, but I might be,” a sandpaper voice says.

  Cole.

  My heart speeds up to twice its normal pace and excitement races through me, waking me fully.

  “Breaking and entering, huh?” I tease playfully, happier than I care to admit that he’s here. Finally. It seems like I’ve waited forever.

  “I didn’t break anything, but I sure do plan to enter. Several times, actually.”

  I grin, listening to the rustle of his clothes coming off in the dark.

  “This is illegal, you know. To come into a tenant’s home unannounced.”

  I hear the springs creak and feel the mattress dip as Cole sets his knee and one hand on the end of the bed. He slides his hands up my legs, parting them as he goes. I feel the scrape of his stubble at one point, up near my groin, and a wicked stab of want gushes through me.

  I feel his weight settle on me, pinning me beneath his naked heat. He answers just before his lips take mine. “So sue me.”

  ⌘⌘⌘⌘

  “Are you upset that I came?” Cole asks as he kisses a trail from my chin to my ear, his body still completely sheathed within mine.

  “Not at all.”

  “Good.” I hear the smile in his voice. “I missed you too much to stay away a second night.”

  “Why did you stay away at all?”

  “It was late by the time I got the water heater apart last night and then today I had to catch a ride with Jordan to Ashbrook for some parts that they didn’t have here. By the time I got it finished up, I knew you’d be right in the middle of getting Emmy ready for bed. I didn’t want to intrude, so I waited. But this was it. Maximum wait time. I’d have busted down your door if it had been two minutes longer,” he confesses with a lusty growl.

  “Is that right, Mr. Testosterone?”

  “Hell yeah, that’s right,” he says, flexing his hips and causing me to gasp at the hardness that’s already starting to take shape inside me. “Are you complaining about my testosterone?”

  He swivels his hips, rubbing me in just the right spot. “God, no,” I moan quietly, tilting my pelvis to capture him more fully.

  “Because I can leave if I’m bothering you.” He fastens his mouth on one nipple as he withdraws and then pushes all the way back into me, deep enough to rock my hips back.

  “You’re bothering me alright,” I tell him breathlessly, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “Good, because I’m thinking that as long as you’re here, you’re stuck with me.”

  I don’t get to worry over that comment because Cole leans back and pulls me up into a sitting position, held in his arms, impaled on his length. But when I’m lying bonelessly beside him an hour later, I can think of little else.

  ⌘⌘⌘⌘

  As much as I’d love to wake up beside Cole, I’m afraid that Emmy will rise early again, a fluke thing, and find us in bed together. I don’t think she’s ready for that, no matter how much she likes Cole or thinks he makes me happy.

  But in the wee hours, Cole, seemingly almost as in tune with Emmy’s welfare as I am, gives me a long, passionate kiss and announces that he’s leaving.

  “I probably shouldn’t be here when Emmy gets up.”

  I don’t argue, because it’s exactly what I was thinking.

  I sit up to watch him dress, shafts of moonlight pouring through the curtains he insisted on opening. I want to see you, he’d said. I want to see your face when you come. I want to see your beautiful legs spread and I want to watch my cock slide in and out of you. I don’t ever want to forget what that looks like.

  How was I going to say no to that? And now I’m getting the benefit. I can see his muscles flex as he pulls on his pants, like titanium machinery gliding smoothly under flawless skin. And I can see his face, partly shadowed, when he looks at me. That look that says he could stay here and make love to me forever and never get tired. That look that says he wants me more than he wants to eat. That look that says he wants… more. Only I don’t know exactly what “more” is for him.

  “Will I see you later?” I ask.

  “How about dinner tonight? I’ll cook.”

  “I promised Emmy I’d take her to Bailey’s for a cheeseburger tonight. She did well on her math test and that’s what she wanted as a reward, so…”

  “Can I come?”

  I hide the smile that wants to light up my face. “I suppose we could put up with your incessant chatter for another night.” I see his wry expression. “What are you up to now? I mean, is the house across the street finished? Or will you be working on something else?”

  “I’ll be back across the street tomorrow,” he responds vaguely.

  “And today?”

  I see his pause. I see his hesitation. I’ve overstepped.

  “Today, I’ll be at the beach.”

  It’s Sunday.

  “Building a sandcastle?”

  He nods once, his brow furrowing like it’s done so often since I’ve known him. The thing is, I haven’t seen him frown much in the last few days.

  “We, um, we could come and help if you want. Or if you’d rather do it by yourself…” I let the sentence trail off, flabbergasted at my audacity. What the hell is wrong with me? It’s like I own him, like he can’t spend a minute without me or have a day that’s unaccounted for.

  “Thanks, but–”

  “Oh, God! I’m so sorry! Listen to me! I sound like a controlling fruitcake. Just forget I said anything,” I plead, covering my face with my hands. How. Humiliating. If he ever wondered whether I’ve had any kind of normal relationship in the
past, I’m sure he has his answer now.

  Cole pulls my hands from my face. His expression is kind, but inscrutable. “Don’t apologize. I want to be with you. But,” he adds, his smile small, “this is just something that’s…it’s just something that I have to do on my own.”

  “I understand, Cole. Truly I do. I don’t know why I even offered.” I shake my head.

  “Because you’re caring and fun and you want to be with me, too.”

  I neither confirm nor deny his assumption, but he’s right. I do want to be with him.

  “I’ll pick you up at six. And wear something formal. You’ve never been to Bailey’s at night.”

  For a split second, I wonder if he’s serious. “You’re kidding, right?”

  His laugh is a short bark. “Of course I’m kidding. Have you seen Bailey’s? You don’t even have to have teeth to get served in there.”

  “Good point,” I concede. “I just wanted to make sure.”

  Cole leans into me where I’m sitting on the bed. “If it were up to me, you could come naked. You’d be the best dressed person there. But there’s Emmy. And the police, of course. It probably wouldn’t end like I’d want it to–with you riding my cock at the bar.”

  I screw up my face. “Is that what you think about when you ask me to dinner at Bailey’s?”

  “Don’t look at me like that. If you weren’t so delectable, so irresistible, so damned addictive, I wouldn’t think about you all the time like I do. It’s your own fault.”

  He bends his head to nip at my breast with his teeth. “If you’re leaving, you’d better stop right there,” I warn.

  His sigh is long and loud. “Fine. I guess I’m going. I had a good reason, right?” he teases.

  “Emmy.”

  “Right right. A very good reason.”

  I grin as he pecks me hard on the mouth and walks away like I took his favorite toy.

  I think to myself after I hear the front door shut and snap locked that he’s not the only one who’s addicted.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Cole

  MAYBE COMING TO Bailey’s was a mistake. I expected the whispers and the long, odd looks, but I never expected to feel so…possessive. I find myself glaring at any man who stares at Eden for more than ten seconds. And there are a lot of them. Bailey’s is the only place to eat in the whole town. It has a pretty big crowd on the weekends.

  It doesn’t help that my mood was a little testy to begin with. I didn’t really want to leave Eden’s this morning. I wanted to stay, to play with her beautiful breasts, to lick her satiny skin, to reach deep inside her body with mine and drag out moans and gasps from her unwilling lungs. That constant want left me distracted when I went to the beach.

  After that, I came home and showered, torn between thoughts of what Eden’s body would look like all wet and soapy, and the asshole that I am for finding some amount of happiness when my own daughter can’t.

  All in all, it left my mood a little sour before we even arrived at Bailey’s. And now I’m having to contend with all the locals drooling over my beautiful date.

  “Are you okay?” Eden asks as we take a seat at one of the few booths available in Bailey’s.

  “Of course. Why?”

  She watches me suspiciously, her hazel gray eyes searching mine for answers that I’m unwilling to give. “Just curious.”

  I open the menu and pretend to peruse it. I’ve got the whole thing memorized and I already know what I want. I just need a few minutes to collect myself, to conceal the growing agitation that must be reflected on my face.

  “Hiya, sweetie,” Jordan slurs when she approaches the table to take our order. She leans down to hug Eden. “I’ve been meaning to get out to your place, but it looks like you’ve been plenty busy without my company,” she says loudly as she nods in my direction.

  I scowl at her.

  “Oh come on, Cole! You know there’s no keeping secrets in this town. Everything comes out eventually.”

  I grit my teeth.

  “Maybe people should just mind their own business,” I say mildly, holding her brown eyes until her smile dies.

  “Well,” Jordan says, clearing her throat and turning to Eden. “What can I get you two tonight?”

  Eden orders Emmy’s meal and then her own. After I order and Jordan leaves, she announces, “Emmy and I are going to check out the jukebox.” She says it with a smile, but I can see the tightness in her face.

  She doesn’t give me time to respond, just gets up, waits for Emmy to slide out and then they walk off.

  I’m screwing this up. I know I am. But damn! I feel kind of crazy today. I’m used to feeling one of two emotions–pain or numbness. Not all this other stuff.

  I watch Eden as she walks away. Her ass looks amazing in the jeans she’s wearing and her pink sweater fits her upper body to perfection. Nearly every head turns as she passes. Even the women look, although they’re probably either jealous because she’s so incredibly beautiful or appreciative of her relationship with her daughter. It’s plain to see that she adores Emmy and that she’s a good mother. It’s there in the way Emmy looks up at her and the way Eden never lets go of her hand.

  The longer I watch her, the more I realize that she’s the perfect woman. And the more I think about it, the more it eats at me that everyone else wants her, too.

  She avoids my eyes as she walks back to the booth, making me feel even more like a shitheel for ruining her night out with Emmy.

  I wait until they’re both situated back in the booth and Emmy is coloring before I speak. “I’m sorry,” I tell her quietly.

  That draws her stormy eyes back to mine. “For what?”

  She’s not playing dumb. She’s asking me what’s been up my ass.

  I sigh. “I’ve never been jealous before.”

  Her brows draw together. “Jealous? Of what?”

  “Of all these men looking at you.”

  She glances around. “What men looking at me?”

  “You really don’t see it, do you?”

  “See what?” She’s genuinely perplexed.

  “See the way your hair pours down your back like a waterfall made of ink. See the way your eyes sparkle when you look at Emmy. See the way your laugh makes other people smile. See the way everybody wants you.”

  Pink spots bloom on her cheeks and she looks away from me, shy all of a sudden.

  “Or the way you blush when someone tells you you’re beautiful.”

  “Well, if that’s what’s wrong with you, then maybe you shouldn’t apologize,” she teases with a grin.

  “Yes, I should. You don’t deserve my mood. And neither does Emmy.”

  Eden glances over at her daughter, who is coloring pretty damn well for someone her age. Eden looks back at me and shrugs. “We’re okay now that you’re okay.”

  “I’m trying to be.”

  She smiles. “Now you know how I feel when Jordan is so friendly with you.”

  I scoff. “Please. There’s not a woman in a ten state radius that holds a candle to you.”

  I can tell my comment pleases her. “You’re gonna give me a big head.”

  I tilt my head and consider her. “Nah. You’re not the type to get conceited.”

  “Oh really? Then what type am I?”

  I pause, debating how truthful to be. In the end, I tell her exactly what I’m thinking. “The perfect type.”

  Her smile widens and her cheeks turn pinker, and just like that, I feel more relaxed than I have all day.

  “You two going to be able to eat around all that flirting and smiling?” Jordan asks when she returns with a tray of our food. “If not, princess and I will eat it, won’t we, little Emmy?” She winks at Emmy and Emmy leans her head against Eden’s arm to hide her face. “That must be a ‘no’.”

  “Emmy would share her food with me, wouldn’t you, Emmy?” I ask of the little girl who looks so much like mine. She grins shyly and nods. “Jordan’s out of luck, isn’t she?” She grins b
igger and nods more vigorously. I wink at her and am gratified by a tiny giggle. She’s not talking to me yet, but I figure the fact that she’s smiling and not sucking her thumb is progress. And I’ll take every little small bit of progress I can get.

  ⌘⌘⌘⌘

  I’m studying the picture Emmy drew for me after dinner when Eden quietly reappears in the living room doorway. The level of detail in the sandcastle and in the flowers is probably pretty advanced for a child her age. But that’s not what strikes me most about the picture. What knocks the breath out of me is that she seems to have caught the emptiness I felt there today.

  “What’s wrong? Don’t you like refrigerator pictures?” asks Eden.

  “I like them just fine.” I turn my attention back to the drawing, once again bothered by something that was eating at me earlier. When I was at the beach.

  Eden comes to sit beside me on the couch, curling her legs under her and tucking her hands between her knees to warm them. I inhale the clean smell of her shampoo and the lightly sweet perfume or body lotion that she wears. Whatever it is, the scent suits her perfectly.

  “Seriously, what’s the matter? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  My smile is more bitter than anything. “That’s the problem. Only reverse.”

  “The reverse? What’s that mean?”

  I sigh and let the paper drift out of my fingers to settle silently on the wooden coffee table in front of me. Like letting go of a memory and watching it drift off into nothingness. Only I don’t want to do that.

  “Everybody in this town thinks I’m crazy,” I begin. “Did you know that?” She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t need to. The answer is right there in her expressive eyes. They tell me more than what she’d be comfortable with sometimes, I think. “I’m not surprised. It’s probably a juicy topic of conversation in a place like this. If gossip had headlines, I’m sure they’d read, ‘Ex Football Pro Talks to Dead Daughter On Beach’.” I pause, gathering my thoughts, choosing my words carefully as I toy with one edge of Emmy’s picture. My fingers are drawn to it over and over. “I’m not crazy, Eden. I wanted to see Charity. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted it so badly that I could see her. And hear her. But I knew she wasn’t really there. Not even in ghost form. It was just my way of keeping her alive. Of never forgetting even one small detail about her, like the way her voice sounded.”