She bit her lip. Her blood was running hot, and a hard, insistent throb between her thighs had her squeezing her knees together. Her nipples, tight as they had ever been, scraped against her soft cotton tank top. It had been so long since she’d felt this way she barely recognized the sensations.
Lust. It was sharp and demanding, and she was helpless against it.
Her hand slipped between her legs while the woman in the movie began to curse in Spanish.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
Mike strode into the room, still wearing his khaki button-up shirt from the apartment security job he worked. He smiled at her for all of a quarter second before the blonde began screaming in pleasure.
Amy jolted to her feet.
“Oh God.” The heat in her blood burned straight into humiliation as she juggled, then dropped, the remote.
Mike turned toward the TV just as she dove to the floor.
“Are you watching porn?” he asked.
“No,” she whimpered. “Fucking fuck fuck!”
She had the remote in her hand now, and was pressing every button she could trying to get the channel the change. A green light flashed at the bottom of the screen.
Recording Program, it said.
“This stupid thing is broken,” she said, shaking the remote.
“Damn,” said Mike. He sat on the couch next to where she’d just been fantasizing about him going down on her. “So this is what you do when I’m not home.”
“I wasn’t watching porn!” Amy blurted. The man began grunting, and when Amy glanced up, she was mortified to see that he’d turned the blonde around and was plowing into her from behind.
“Don’t get me wrong,” said Mike, one hand on his chest. “I dig it. Don’t stop on my account.”
Part of her wanted to listen to him. Wanted to grab his shirt in her fists and kiss him with the sounds of sex echoing in the background. The other part—the overriding part—had already hit the panic button.
“It was an accident...” She pressed buttons faster than a teenager with an X-Box controller. “I thought it was a travel show.”
“That’s great,” said Mike. “Why don’t you sit on my lap and tell me about it?”
Her eyes shot to his. He started laughing.
She wanted to die. Her entire body was the color of cherries. She was pretty sure her skin would never go back to the normal color.
Then he reached for her. His knuckles slowly skimmed down the outside of her thigh, and even though she was wearing sweatpants, she could feel the warmth from his touch send shimmers throughout her entire body.
She gasped. His gaze rose to hers and held, and the whole world went still.
“Mommy?”
They both turned to the top of the stairs, where Paisley, in her purple Little Mermaid pajamas, rubbed her red eyes with her little fists.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Amy winced.
This time Mike was the one scrambling. He grabbed the remote from Amy’s hand, clicked one button, and the TV turned off.
“Paisley!” Amy said, voice too high. “What are you doing up?” She raced around the couch and up the stairs, leaving Mike behind her. She could feel his gaze on her back until they were out of view.
“I had a bad dream,” said Paisley. “You weren’t in your room.” Her pj pants were more like capris now, and Amy made a note to start a new donation pile to take to the shelter. In the past she would have just left a bag at the nearest drop center, but since her divorce she’d made a habit of taking all their old clothes to the women’s shelter, Haven House.
“I was watching a movie,” said Amy, possibly a little too defensively.
“Can I sleep with you?”
Normally Amy would have gently directed Paisley back into the girls’ room, tucked her in, and sat in the reading chair beside the bed until she went to sleep, but after what had just happened downstairs with Mike, she wasn’t sure she could ever face him again.
Stupid remote. You probably needed a college degree to operate the damn thing.
“Okay,” said Amy. “Just tonight, though.”
Paisley nodded, and Amy ushered her into the master bedroom, where she curled up against Amy’s shoulder. Her warm body scooted as close as possible, bony kneecaps jabbing into Amy’s ribs. Amy kept her there, smoothing down her flyaways, and remembered all the nights when her baby would only sleep on her chest.
“What’d you dream about?” asked Amy.
She heard her daughter take a deep breath and held her tighter for the three seconds that followed.
“Daddy.”
Amy’s hand, rubbing Paisley’s back, went still. “Oh yeah?”
It had been a long time since Paisley had had nightmares about her father, or talked about him at all outside their therapy appointments. Amy didn’t know exactly what the dreams were about, but she had a pretty good idea.
Vividly, she could recall the moment she’d seen Paisley hiding behind the kitchen counter of their small apartment. She remembered it better than the feel of Danny’s hand smashing against her cheek, or the time she’d had to spend afterward, applying layer after layer of makeup to hide the bruises.
Knowing Paisley had seen Danny hit her hurt a hell of a lot more than actually getting hit.
Later, Amy had found her daughter under her twin bed, along with half of her “missing” stuffed animals. It wasn’t the first time Paisley had hidden there. The walls were thin, and she’d heard their fights before.
It’s okay, baby. Daddy didn’t mean it.
It was the worst thing she’d ever said. He had meant it. He’d meant every shitty thing he’d ever said to her, even though he always apologized later and begged for her forgiveness. But she was at fault too, because even if Amy had never raised her hand in anger, she’d taught her daughter it was okay for a man to hit a woman.
“What happened with Daddy?” Amy prompted. If he’d lied to her, and somehow seen their daughter, Amy would find him and fuck him up.
Paisley burrowed deeper into her shoulder.
“Did you make him go away?” she asked.
Amy’s chest hurt. Paisley had never asked about why her father had left before. Instead, she’d just stopped talking. She wondered what had brought it up now.
“Daddy and Mommy fought too much,” said Amy, searching for the right words to explain their fallout without calling him an asshole. “We couldn’t be together anymore. We both decided that.”
Part of her wondered if she should just come out with it. Daddy was mean. Daddy hurt Mommy. It wasn’t safe for us anymore. But she couldn’t. They’d already hashed this out in therapy, right now she just wanted her daughter to be six years old, and innocent.
“Why were you thinking about all this, Pais?” she asked.
Her daughter was quiet for a long time. Long enough that Amy started to get really nervous.
“Is Mike my new daddy?” she finally asked.
Amy almost laughed at her own stupidity. Here she was, wondering what had gotten her daughter thinking about Danny again, while they were lying in another man’s bed. She’d been so concerned with her own problems with Danny, and her own confusion about Mike, she hadn’t really considered the damage she could be causing her daughter. Of course she was thinking about her own father—Mike was picking her up from school, making them meals, talking to her about what she’d learned that day. He was playing daddy, and Amy was letting him.
“No. He’s just our friend.” She hugged Paisley closer and kissed her brow. “We’re going home soon and things will be back to normal.”
Paisley didn’t answer. Her breaths had evened out. She was finally asleep.
Outside in the hallway, the floor creaked. And then she heard the steady fall of footsteps descending down the stairs. She didn’t know if Mike had heard their conversation, but told herself it didn’t matter. This had gone on long enough. She’d had her chance at love and it hadn’t worked out.
Time to grow up an
d move on.
Chapter Six
“Wake UP!”
Amy’s first conscious thought was that the roof had to be caving in. That was why her face was being smothered, and her chest felt like an elephant had sat on it.
A smallish elephant anyway. With white teeth and red beads in thirty-six intricate braids.
“Chloe, I can’t breathe,” she managed. Paisley was already rushing out of the room.
“We’re going to be late!” she hollered, as if this was the worst thing in the world. Amy rolled over to check the clock. 7:37. Shit. They were going to be late.
She scrubbed her hands over her face and dragged herself into the bathroom. Searching through the overstuffed cosmetic case, she grabbed the essentials. No shower this morning. She could do her hair at work. Make up, check. By the time she was applying eye shadow, she was already making simultaneous lists.
Turquoise dress, black shimmery wrap, chunky white belt, and riding boots.
Oatmeal for the girls at the coffee shop on the way to school. Damn. She knew she should have filled up with gas yesterday. Rerouting. The gas station would take them by the donut shop. Breakfast of champions. They could still make their drop off at 8:30.
It was going to be an all-day caffeination fest for sure.
“Books in backpacks!” she yelled outside the room as she tore off the T-shirt and sweatpants she’d fallen asleep in. “Lunches in the fridge!” At least she’d remembered to make those last night.
It was just as she was pulling on her tights that she remembered what else had happened last night.
She groaned out loud. Hopefully Mike had already left for the day.
Whipping through the closet like a tornado, she grabbed the items in the she’d already set aside in her head from the open suitcase on the floor. In less than two minutes she was streaking down the stairs.
“Car!” she called. “We’ll eat on the way!”
“We’re already eating!” Chloe yelled back from the kitchen.
Fearful the girls had tried to make their own breakfast experiment and in the process had destroyed the kitchen, she raced that direction, only to find both Paisley and Chloe sitting in their chairs at the wooden table, eating waffles.
Mike was pulling their lunches out of the fridge. He was wearing his workout clothes—shorts, and a white shirt that clung to his chest with sweat—and for a moment she just stared, blinking, at the way his arms flexed as he shut the refrigerator door.
Sweaty Mike was a good substitution for caffeine. She was instantly more alert.
“I thought you had your construction job this morning,” she said.
He smirked, probably because she’d gone ahead and revealed that she’d memorized his schedule again.
“I’ve got a house full of pretty girls. Thought I’d take the morning off,” he said.
She felt her skin start to glow.
“You made breakfast.” Stating the obvious was quickly becoming her best skill. Maybe she could put it on a resume.
She glanced to Paisley, remembering her dedication from the previous night to put her daughter’s needs first.
Amy looked down as Mike handed her a paper plate topped with two blueberry waffles. They already had syrup on them.
Yeah, this was definitely confusing.
“You’ve got time to eat,” he said.
“I’m low on gas.”
“So take my car.”
Her mind turned to the silver Chevy truck parked in the driveway. The thought of how she might look driving the massive thing was nearly laughable.
“The booster seats are in mine.”
“I’ll switch them.”
A goddamn answer for everything. Why did he have to be so accommodating?
“I know you’re trying to be nice,” she said. “But I can manage just fine on my own.” She’d been doing just fine without anyone for years, even before Danny had started stepping out. Maybe it was just her baggage talking, but Mike’s helpful offers felt more like a lack of trust.
He leaned against the counter, casual as could be. But something was brewing between them, a tension the girls seemed immune to.
“You’re taking my daughter to school,” he said. “And another little girl I care quite a bit about. I want everyone to be safe. It’s got nothing to do with you being capable.”
“You think I’m not concerned with their safety?”
“I think you’re in a hurry this morning.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make me reckless.”
A muscle in his throat jumped, and he crossed his arms over his chest.
“If I thought you were reckless,” he said, “You wouldn’t be in this house.”
A warning buzzed in the back of her brain. He was agitated. The smile, the laughter as he’d caught her watching stupid Madrid, were gone now. The look in his amber eyes was dead serious, and it made it hard to keep her resolve.
I’m sorry. The words were on the tip of her tongue. You’re right. The old Amy would have said whatever she needed to in order to avoid a fight.
The old Amy wasn’t welcome here.
She set her plate down on the counter, and smoothed down her platinum hair.
“That’s what I need to talk to you about, actually.” She found a good place to focus on his Adam’s apple. But he’d just shaved, and his skin looked smooth enough to lick.
Wanting to lick him was definitely not helping the situation.
“Later,” he said.
Waiting was just prolonging the inevitable. The longer she stayed, the harder it was to leave. That was a lesson she’d learned the hard way.
She glanced at the girls, sticking their tongues through holes they’d poked in the center of their waffles.
“Tonight,” he told her. “I’m taking you out.”
“Like, offing me?” she said dryly, but her stomach had already filled with butterflies. “We really do need to talk.”
“Like, dinner,” said Mike, the amusement warming his eyes. “Like, just you and me.”
“You and me,” she repeated.
Perfect. She could tell him they were moving out on their first date.
“How many more minutes until we go?” asked Paisley.
“Ms. Wright’s gonna be so mad when we miss the first bell,” said Chloe.
Amy grimaced. Their teacher, Ms. Wright, had already reprimanded Amy twice this school year for tardiness. It really wasn’t a good time to announce that she and Paisley were going home.
“I’ve already arranged for someone to watch the girls,” Mike said.
“You have.” Even if their sitter had been her sitter for long before she’d met even met him, she wasn’t sure how she felt about him making arrangements for her daughter’s care.
“I have.” He leaned closer. “They’re staying here. And we’ll be back to take them to school in the morning.”
“What?” Amy’s voice rose an octave. She’d never spent a night away from Paisley before.
A second later what he was really saying caught up with her.
He wanted to spend the night with her. Alone.
Like, alone alone. Without kids.
Holy shit. They were going to have sex.
He must have read her mind, because he leaned closer and added, “I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to do.”
She swallowed. His words gave a different message than their intent. It sounded as if he was trying to ease her mind, take some of the pressure off, but the way the back of his finger skimmed down her forearm suggested the opposite. That she’d be begging for him to touch her.
She opened her mouth, closed it. Like a goddamn guppy.
“I promise we’ll stay close enough to get back quickly if we need to.”
“I...um...”
“Say yes, Amy.” His thumb rubbed alongside the hem of her shirt, making her breath catch. “Give me a chance to screw up before you give up on me.”
Her gaze found his, and she knew
for certain then that he had heard her conversation last night with Paisley. He knew she was planning to leave. It made sense why he was asking her out now—he didn’t want her to go.
She glanced back to her daughter, who was drowning a piece of waffle in syrup.
“It’s not that simple,” she said, stepping closer, into that dangerous range where she could smell how delicious he was. All sweet and sharp, like soap and cinnamon. “I can’t just do whatever I want. Everything affects her. Every decision I make.”
“Kids are resilient,” he said. “And by the way, I’m a single parent, too.”
She withered at the jab of guilt. She hadn’t meant to discredit him as a father; Chloe was an awesome kid.
“Do you want to be with me?” he asked.
She nodded before she could analyze what he meant by be with me. Like, here in the kitchen? Or at dinner? Or like, actually in a bed?
She cleared her throat.
“I have to protect her,” she said. “You don’t understand.”
And how could he? She doubted he’d let Chloe down the way she’d let Paisley down. He respected women. He taught self-defense classes for Christ’s sake. He wouldn’t have stood by and let his daughter see the things Paisley had seen. He wouldn’t have told her it was okay afterward.
He pushed off the counter and looked down on her.
“I understand,” he said. “I know exactly what happens when a mother gives up everything for her child. She closes herself off from the rest of the world. She forgets she’s smart, and funny, and beautiful. And she spends her nights babysitting her grandchild and the little girl downstairs. I know, Amy. I see it everyday.”
Amy stared at him, throat suddenly too dry to swallow.
It was her job as a mother to put Paisley first. To show her that she was the most important thing in Amy’s life.
To model for her what it meant to be a woman and a mother.
Amy frowned. Was Mike right? Was she showing Paisley you should always put someone else’s needs first? That being a mother meant never doing anything for yourself?
He stepped closer, and tucked her hair behind her ears. It was the most public display of affection he’d ever done in front of the girls.
“Spend the night with me tonight,” he said. “Not because I’m asking. Because you want to.”
More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4) Page 5