You look adorable when you’re mad, too, Amy, he whispers in my ear, suddenly standing behind me at the sink, his body dangerously close to mine. I jump, but I don’t dare move as he presses his chest against my back, his erection evident from the hardness against my lower back. I can feel heat radiating from him, desire seeping from his pores as he tilts his head towards my neck, sweeps my hair away and leans his lips closer…
“Mom!” Allie calls out, startling me and causing me to drop the mug I have been holding in my hand. The ceramic shatters as it hits the sink.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath, mortified at being caught daydreaming by my daughter. I spin around and paste a fake smile on my face. “What’s the matter, Allie?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing is the matter. It stopped raining so Sean and I are going to go outside to check the rest of the place out-”
Horrified, I cut her off. “No! Don’t go outside! It’s nearly dark out now! And we are in the middle of the woods! There’s bears and skunks and mafia men out there!” After I open my mouth, I realize how ridiculous I sound.
Allie rolls her eyes. I’m glad I can always count on that good ole eye roll when I’ve lost my sanity.
“Don’t forget the spiders!” Agent Harding reminds me from his spot at the nook. He is on his third helping of dinner and I am tempted to make a joke about his weight, but I doubt that will work in my favor if I need saving any time soon. So I bite my lip and return to furiously scrubbing dishes that don’t need to be scrubbed because I can see a dishwasher in the corner of the kitchen. No freakin’ TV, but we’ve got a dishwasher.
“Spiders?” Jason asks and I realize he is back in the house and reaching for the plate I took out for him earlier. I nearly jump out of my skin because his arm grazes mine as he scoops spaghetti onto his plate at the stove. Slow down, heart, I order. He can probably hear you slamming around in there.
“Oh, yeah. We have lethal spiders in here,” Agent Harding deadpans. I ignore him and scrub the plate so hard that the paint flecks off.
“Come on, Mom,” Allie is practically whining in my ear. “We’ve been cooped up in here all day. I can barely breathe from inhaling cabin air. You don’t want me to have an asthma attack do you?” She gives me a pouty little look. Leave it to Allie to pull the asthma card.
“Stay close to the cabin,” I tell her and I immediately hear her footsteps dashing to the front door. I call after her, “Don’t forget your jacket.” The door slams and I know she doesn’t have a jacket on.
If I crane my neck to look out the window, I can see Allie and Sean in front of the cabin as they walk over to one of the many large oak trees lining the driveway. Allie leans her back against the tree while Sean stands awkwardly off to the side, snapping a loose branch in his hand. I see Allie pull something out of her pocket and glance around furtively before she cups her hands over her mouth and leans forward.
“Son of a bitch,” I shout. She’s smoking a cigarette! I wipe my wet hands on my jeans as I roll down my sleeves and spin on my heel. I am going to beat that child. I’ve caught her red-handed. I smack head first right into Jason’s intimidating chest. As I step back, I catch a whiff of his intoxicating manly scent which causes my knees to buckle.
He grabs my forearms lightly, causing my skin to feel as if it is going to melt off of my body. Breathe, Amy.
“Easy there, killer,” he jokes as he attempts to steady me.
“Going to kill my daughter,” I mumble, trying to remember how to speak.
“I’m pretty sure I can’t let you do that,” Jason replies with a cocky grin, the first I’ve seen in at least twenty-four hours.
“You don’t understand…”
“I’m sure she will be fine out there without a jacket,” Jason tells me.
I shake my head. “No, that’s not it.” I storm back over to the window and point my finger accusingly at the glass towards my daughter with puffs of smoke coming out of her mouth. Sean also has smoke coming out of his mouth. “Look! They’re smoking!” I turn back to Jason triumphantly.
He is trying to hide his grin and it turns out appearing like a smirk. “No they’re not!” He grips my shoulders and spins me back around. “It’s cold out, Amy. That’s air coming out of their mouths. You do know that’s what happens when we breathe outside in the cold? Or are you new to this kind of weather?”
I squint as I peer out the window. Allie offers a piece of gum to Sean, who is still snapping twigs. Neither of them are holding a cigarette. And there is still “smoke” around their mouths. My shoulders slump in a combination of relief and defeat.
Now I am mortified at my mistake as I try to explain to Jason, “You don’t understand. I’ve caught her smoking before. And she was cupping her hands over her mouth…”
“Probably to warm them up,” Jason reasons. “It’s dropped into the thirties according to the thermometer on my dashboard.”
I stomp my foot like a petulant child. “Ugh! That’s exactly why I told her to put her jacket on!”
Jason purses his lips and I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “I can see that you’re frustrated-” he begins, but I cut him off rudely.
“Don’t try to placate me. I was a psych major. I know what you’re doing.” Okay, so only for one semester, but Jason doesn’t need to know that. Unless…oh crap. What if he knows that already? What if he did a background check on me?
I nearly start to hyperventilate as Jason gently grips my wrist and steers me towards the couch. My heart is hammering in my chest like it is building a little cabin to enclose itself in. Oh dear Lord, that sounds insane. I really need to get out of here. I am officially losing my mind...
“Amy,” Jason says quietly, as he sits me down and joins me on the ancient relic of a couch. His eyes are soft and caring, with crinkles around the edges. The kind of eyes I can probably stare into lovingly for an entire day, a year, a lifetime…
I abruptly halt my obnoxiously perverse thoughts before I go off onto a tangent.
“You’re doing a good job,” Jason tells me, his hand innocently brushing my thigh. I tense up, desperately trying not react to his touch, no matter how good it feels. Think of something else, Amy. Focus on something that doesn’t feel good.
And then I remember the XXL sweatshirt emblazoned with Bootylicious U and the balloon sized panties bunched up underneath my jeans. I have no problem feeling pissed at Jason again.
“Pray tell, exactly what am I doing a good job at?” I ask, practically spitting venom at him.
He recoils slightly from my less than cordial reaction, but explains. “Parenting. It’s a tough job. But you’re doing it right.”
“What do you know?” I scoff as I slump back on the couch. “Apparently my kids don’t agree.”
Jason drapes his arm over the back of the couch, dangerously close to my shoulder, scoots his hip back against the couch and turns to face me. I inch even farther away, nervous that I will succumb to his not so innocent touch and his wily handsome man charms. He knows what he is doing; he’s working me to the point that I am putty in his hands and I follow his every order. That way he doesn’t have to deal with a hormonal, neurotic woman. I’m not dumb and I was not born yesterday. Roger pulls the same crap when he wants me to cooperate.
If Jason is offended by me moving away, his face doesn’t show it. “Your kids will always be the last ones to tell you that you’re doing a good job.”
“It’s not just them. I know I’m doing a lousy job. I’ve got this one telling me off,” I sweep my hand towards the door where Allie is outside. “Not to mention the smoking, the younger one getting into fights, the one that doesn’t shut up, and a toddler who won’t stay still. I’m not doing a great job. I can’t even get it together. And half the time, I’m so frustrated, exhausted and overwhelmed that I’m not even enjoying them. In fact, the only time I enjoy them is when they’re sleeping and I know that makes me a horrible mother but I can’t help it because I’m just so damn tired.”
>
I gasp for air and am instantly mortified. What the hell was that? Diarrhea of the mouth? Why would you share that with a stranger? You don’t even say that sort of thing to your friends! What the hell were you thinking, Amy?
I see a grin playing on the corners of Jason’s mouth and I cannot believe I just spouted all that out to him. And what’s more, it looks like he thinks it’s a joke.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer, rising to my feet, eager to get away from him.
Jason grabs my hand as I try to escape and pulls me back to the couch. Suddenly, I feel that damn tingle shudder through my body again. His hand makes me feel safe and wary at the same time.
“It’s fine, Amy,” he tells me as I land back on the couch with a plop. The pillows make a little farting noise.
Wow, can we add any more embarrassment to this day? I was in my underwear in front of two undercover agents, overreacted to a spider, thought my daughter was smoking when it was just her breath coming out of her mouth, revealed my deepest insecurities to my hot as hell neighbor and now I’ve made a farting noise in his presence. Maybe I should just round up some of my class pictures from when I was in middle school to cap the day off. The ones with the braces, awkward expressions, pimples, and bad hair.
“I’ve only got the one kid and damn, every single day I am convinced I’m doing it wrong.” Jason is still holding my hand and in my mortified state, I can’t detach my hand from his. Besides, it stops the shaking a little. “There’s not one day that goes by that I doubt something I did and beat myself up over it. It’s not just you.”
I shake my head in disagreement. “I’m screwing up four of them. You would think I would get it right after the first or second one, but every day I’m reminded that I’m fucking it up a little more. Until one day, they’re going to all be on drugs and homeless and nobody is going to want to come visit me in the nursing home.” I choke back the tears I didn’t even know I were threatening to fall.
Jason now starts to laugh. I shoot him an icy glare; he immediately stops but screws his lips together to prevent further chuckling.
“I’m sorry, but I think that’s a little extreme. I’m pretty sure your kids are going to turn out fine. Or at least the odds are that 3 out of the 4 will be fine,” Jason informs me as he hands me a tissue that seems to have appeared out of nowhere.
“What happens to the fourth one?” I ask as I dab at my eyes.
“Oh, they become assholes, do drugs, end up living in a refrigerator box. You know, that sort of thing,” Jason tells me, grin creeping back on to his face.
Seeing his dimples, I can’t help but smile. And snort. Of course, I snort. I need to add to the level of embarrassment for the day. Before I know what is happening, I am laughing hysterically, Jason joining in. After I am to the point that my sides are hurting, I stop and take a deep breath, wiping the tears of laughter from my eyes, thanking God that I haven’t wet my pants like I usually do when I laugh that hard.
“Thanks,” I tell him as I stand up. He has just said everything that I had silently begged Roger to tell me for years.
Jason reaches for my hand again, but this time he doesn’t pull me back down towards the couch. Instead, he gazes up at me. I find my breath catching in my throat. I can’t remember the last time anyone ever looked at me like this and the fact that I enjoy the way it makes me feel is very uncomfortable.
“Amy, your kids will appreciate you some day. I knows it’s really overwhelming and if it means anything, I think you’ve got it together.” He winks and squeezes my hand before letting it go. I can barely remember how to put one foot in front of the other as I offer him a half-hearted wave and stumble back to the sink, hoping to banish the dirty thoughts that I am now having about one Agent Jason Collins.
~SIXTEEN~
I am cutting up carrots in the kitchenette, putting together a salad for our lunch. Come hell or high water, I’m going to get the occupants of this cabin to eat a little healthier. From my spot at the counter, I can see Allie and Sean, leaning against that tree in the front yard, deep in conversation. I smile to myself, pleased that Allie has made a new friend.
Jason slips in the room behind me, wearing an expression of deep concern on his face. I put the knife down and turn to face him.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. He seemed much happier at breakfast time after taking a jog. Apparently there is a lake with a trail not too far from our cabin. He had taken off before any of the rest of us were awake and when he came back in, I did my best to avert my eyes as he stretched in his running shorts and cut off tee that accentuated his defined muscles, glistening with sweat. Instead, I set to work on making everyone breakfast. We had all laughed over Eggs Benedict and orange juice. And then, after a shower, he had gotten a phone call from his office, which he took outside as usual. And now when he came back in, that grim expression is back on his face.
“Can you come with me please, Amy?” he asks. But any idiot could tell he wasn’t asking. He is telling me that I have to go with him.
I nod as I step away from the cutting board and dutifully follow him out the front door, heart hammering in my chest. My mind is racing, trying to figure out why he wants to see me, what have I done wrong? Do the police really think I am a suspect in Mary’s murder? I was an idiot touching everything in the house that night. Why my fingerprints must be all over everything! I shake with uncertainty. I don’t know anything about law enforcement; I have no idea what the procedure for handling one suspected of a crime would be.
The kids are off to the left of the cabin, so Jason steers me toward the right side. The woods are thicker here, the trees more densely packed together. Jason continues to lead me into the wooded area where it is actually much darker than it is by the cabin.
My heart is still flopping around in my chest, my mouth dry, and my tongue thick. I am frantically scrambling to organize my thoughts.
Jason comes to a halt when we are well into the heart of the woods. I should be scared of being alone with him, but suddenly, I’m not. My pulse slows down as he grabs me by the wrist and pulls me towards his chest. I gasp from the surprise.
“Amy,” he murmurs in my hair, his lips gazing my ear. “Do you know why I’ve brought you out here?”
I flutter my eyelids as I gaze up at him. “Is it because I’ve been a very bad girl?”
A sly grin crosses Jason’s face. “Yes, you’ve been a naughty, naughty girl. Do you know what undercover agents like myself do to naughty girls like you?” He arches his eyebrows as he speaks, sending an erotic tingle down my spine. Oh man, I want him to punish me for being the bad girl that I am…
“Amy!” Jason is standing next to me as I chop the carrots absentmindedly. “Amy! You’re going to chop your finger off!” he yelps as he snatches the knife from my hand.
“Huh?” I am clearly coming out of a daydream and as I glance at Jason, a blush spreads from the roots of my hair all the way down to my toenails. Shit! What was I just thinking about him?
Jason sighs as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Maybe you shouldn’t use knives if you’re not really paying attention,” he advises with a stern look of admonishment.
“Um, yeah, you’re right,” I reply, trying desperately to forget the impure thoughts I was just having. It was seriously getting difficult to live in close quarters with this man if I couldn’t get him off my brain. I awkwardly wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. “What’s up?”
With a grimace, Jason cocked his head towards the front door. “Walk with me?”
What? Shit. Can undercover agents read your mind?
“Uh, why?” I manage to stammer, backing up against the countertop.
He leans in towards me and his tantalizing scent assaults my nostrils, making my knees feel jello-ish. “I need to talk to you…alone.”
He arches his eyebrows and I feel as if I may faint. This must be the vapors that Victorian women were always talking about in books. Swooning and the vapors.
I guess he can
tell I am reluctant from my expression, because he adds, “It’s about the investigation and I don’t want the kids to overhear.”
“I thought they were outside?”
“They are, but you never know when they’re going to come back in. Can you just not be difficult for two minutes and follow me?” Jason asks, clearly agitated.
Well excuse me, Mr. Agent Man. I wouldn’t dream of being difficult, I feel like saying, but instead, I clamp my mouth into a thin line and follow Jason out the front door. He turns right towards the woods, just like in my dream and I am starting to wonder if I really might be psychic.
Jason glances around nervously as he leads me into the wooded area, tromping through the knee high grass. I am growing increasingly alarmed and annoyed at the same time. I rained all day yesterday so my sneakers are squishing into the mud, causing an obnoxious farting like noise when I pull them up. Jason’s boots are doing the same.
Finally, when we can no longer see the house, Jason grinds to a halt. “Okay, I think we’re good here,” he tells me, eyes still darting around nervously.
His lack of ease is unnerving me and I blurt out, “You look like a man who is scared of his own shadow. You’re not exactly instilling confidence in me…sir. Or should I call you ma’am?” I add a little smirk at the end because I am petty like that. I don’t know why I feel the need to stick it to Jason whenever possible, but it’s like guys having a pissing contest. For once, I am able to participate in the contest.
Jason’s face hardens into a scowl. “Why would you call me that?”
I stifle a laugh. Damn. I hadn’t meant to bring this up, but, hell, I said embarrassing things last night, so he could hardly be horrified if I mentioned something that my own daughter witnessed at the mall for cripes sake.
“Because you wear make-up?” I volunteer with a smirk.
The 8 Mistakes of Amy Maxwell Page 20