Living at 40 (Lakeside Cottage Book 1)

by L. B. Dunbar

  Chewing at my lip, I fight all the things that come to mind like maybe this means more than just a mission. Maybe this could be more than a means to an end. Maybe she could want more from me, but I keep all those extra thoughts to myself.

  “Tell me when you want me to move,” I remind her as another tear falls. This one is larger, and I can’t help leaning forward to swipe at the drip rolling to her hairline.

  “Autumn, look at me.” She’s been staring up at the ceiling, but her liquid-filled eyes latch onto mine. “We have eleven more days, and we’ll do this again and again until we’re certain it sticks, okay? We’ll do it extra times just for good measure, and once more for good luck.”

  She slowly smiles before giggling a little. The jostling of her body jiggles me inside her, but I’m softening. I’m not as young as I used to be, and I’ll need a little recovery time before we can go for round two. Will she want round two?

  As her hands slip from my shoulder blades, I lean forward to kiss her, not wanting our connection to end but sensing the finish line. Will she want me to leave?

  “Let me get you something to clean up.” I slip free from her and instantly miss her body. As the house is older, she has a powder room, not a full bathroom in this bedroom, but I find a washcloth in a basket and soak it with warm water. Returning to her, I wipe her up and toss the cloth back to the sink like I’m shooting for a basket from half-court. The slap of wet cloth against the porcelain tells me I made the shot, and I feel like a king. I just had sex with a beautiful woman who begged me to come inside her, and all I have to do is hope my seed plants. Turning back to Autumn, she’s pulled the sheet to her chest, holding it over her covered breasts and staring up at me.

  “I’m not leaving.” I’ll fight her on this, but after the intense experience we just shared and the silent hope between us that it worked for her, I’m not walking out of this room. She nods, and I send up a quiet prayer of gratitude as I curl into bed beside her. We face one another, and I brush back her hair, staring into her deep, sated eyes. “Close your eyes, baby. Sleep.”

  She nods again without a word. After leaning forward for one more kiss, I watch her lips remaining puckered when I pull back and whisper to her, “Sweet dreams.”

  + + +

  “What’s all this?” As I look up from my position by the kitchen counter, seeing Autumn takes my breath away. I wanted to stay in her bed a little longer, but as she mentioned last night, she doesn’t want anyone to know about us and what we were doing because they’d already know the reason. So, I snuck out before dawn and crashed in my own bed for a few hours. However, I promised Lorna I’d make pancakes this morning. It’s been great hanging with the guys and letting Lorna have her time with Mila, but we needed to check in about the ice cream meal and her comment on eating salads.

  Talking weight with a pre-teen girl is a tricky subject. I don’t want to belabor her size as I view her as healthy and wise to weight issues, and I don’t have concerns. The doctor assures us she’s in a normal range, just on the high end of it for her height and age. I’d be more concerned if she wasn’t athletic and only sat around playing video games, but she doesn’t. She plays soccer and used to dance ballet. We live in a small community, and that means the competition is minimal for sports at her age.

  Autumn steps closer to me, and I turn to give her a smile. Her eyes are bright this morning, and I peek over my shoulder to see who is close enough to hear me.

  “Sleep okay last night?” Her eyes lower as she turns for the coffee maker and pours herself a cup.

  “It was okay,” she teases, chewing her lip as she looks up at me over the rim of her mug.

  “Just okay?” I glance over my shoulder once more. “Need to work on that tonight then.”

  Her smile grows before she takes a sip of the morning goodness. As she lowers the mug, I take one more check over my shoulder before leaning forward for a quick kiss to her cheek. I want it to be more. I want her lips on mine and my arms around her, but we have little eyes nearby and ears that can miraculously hear well when they want to versus when asked to unload a dishwasher or do their homework.

  “I need to get to work.”

  “You work too much,” I state, instantly regretting how possessive it sounds. It’s exciting that she runs her own business. I’d always dreamed of owning my own architectural firm, but the place I work pays well, with benefits, and allows me the flexibility I need to be with Lorna. Without being married and having Lorna only half the time in a week, work is all I have, so I know if I had my own business, I’d overwork and forget to take time for the fun stuff.

  “I can’t help it,” she says. “It’s the center of my life.”

  A baby is going to change all that for her. Her child will become the axis of her world, and every decision she makes will revolve around her kid. Parenting is a tough job to do alone, and I’m fortunate Chloe and I are amicable about Lorna, although some days it’s rough being a one-parent show.

  “Don’t you have any days off?” I’m curious because I’d like to make plans with her, maybe steal her away for a day, and give us more alone time. For baby-making purposes, of course.

  “I promised I’d take time off around the weekends. Saturdays and Sundays are our busiest days, so I can’t skip them, but I have Thursday and Friday, and then Monday and Tuesday next week.”

  “Keep a day for me,” I say, glancing over my shoulder once more.

  She chews at her lower lip, and I immediately recall kissing her there, sucking at that tender curve and melting into her lips. “We don’t need to date,” she whispers, her eyes shifting to the island where the girls are chattering to one another while waiting on more pancakes.

  “I still want to be alone with you, away from here.” The griddle sizzles, and I turn my attention back to the pancakes in need of flipping. A tender hand comes to my arm and slides down it to my wrist.

  “I’ll see you later. Have a great day.”

  The second she walks away, her sweet words hit home. These are the things I’ve missed most about being a couple with someone. The little words of encouragement. The tender touches before parting. I miss random text messages and sporadic conversations throughout the day with that person you thought would always be there. I took those things for granted with Chloe, and they became rote instead of special moments.

  I watch as Autumn disappears through the front entryway and then check out my girl sitting at the island with a smile on her face. She’s looking back at me, and I wonder if she can read how I feel about the woman walking away.

  “Who wants more pancakes?” I call out.

  “Me,” Mila blurts.

  “Are there more?” I glance at the entryway to see Zack with his two boys in tow.

  “Have a seat.” I nod to the island. “Coffee’s here.” Zack steps over and scrubs at his hair, which stands up on end.

  “Rough night?” I question.

  “Rough morning.” His voice is groggy as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “They wouldn’t let me be.”

  “I didn’t think you slept anyway.” Zack is a workaholic. Everything is on the clock and by the book. That’s how he runs his life. The lawyer in him wants all things legal, timely, and tidy.

  “I don’t actually. I’ve been awake since three. I should have brought the nanny.” Zack sips at his mug while leaning his back against the counter near where I cook.

  “Is she hot?” I tease.

  “She’s young.” He huffs and scrubs at his sandy-blond hair again.

  “Jeanine approves,” I wonder.

  “Jeanine hired her. She got her from some service. Half the time, I can’t remember their names because they come and go so quickly.” He sighs, knowing the reason his babysitters quit. His kids are out of control.

  “That’s mine,” Mila cries out, and Zack steps forward, intervening as one of his boys has stolen a pancake off Mila’s plate. I turn to restock the serving plate and set it before the boys who lunge for it like st
arving vultures. Returning to the grill, Zack follows me, walking backward. He puts himself back in his prior position against the counter, staring off at his boys.

  “The boys are a mess. My marriage is a mess.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Jeanine’s having an affair.”

  My head pops up, and I stare at the side of his face. “How do you know?”

  Zack shrugs. “She said she had a business trip in Europe when she didn’t have anything booked on her calendar. Her assistant confirmed it’s an official vacation. I caught her packing lingerie. Do you know the last time I saw my wife in lingerie?” He turns his head to look at me, and I don’t really want to answer him. I don’t really want to know. We all agree his wife is a scary woman—intense, bitchy, and downright judgmental—and those words aren’t a cover-up for her being ambitious. She’s rude. Thankfully, Zack doesn’t want a real answer from me and offers one himself.

  “Never. She’s never worn something seductive in her life.” He scrubs at his hair again. “How did I end up with her?”

  “You got her pregnant at a conference.” It’s the truth. Zack weakly smiles, but it’s full of regret. Who would have thought a law conference would get him hot? Apparently, blowing off steam included a few too many shots and an extra key to her hotel room. Zack did what he thought was the right thing to do. He claims fatherhood isn’t his forte, throwing himself into work, but his issues with fatherhood run deeper than his legal position.

  “That’s why this business with Autumn concerns me.” Zack turns his back to his boys, placing his hands on the countertop. “She needs to be careful who she selects to father her child. I don’t want some asshole screwing her over.”

  I swallow at the thought. As I promised her last night, if what we do doesn’t take, I’ll walk away, but the thought makes me feel like an asshole, and it’s the last thing I want to happen. Already I’m in over my head, fighting to remember it’s only sex and nothing more.

  “I think Autumn’s sensible enough to make her own decisions,” I defend, protective of her decision to sleep with me last night.

  “I’m just getting a strange vibe from Ben.”

  “Does he disapprove of her idea?” Ben’s always been a protective older brother. He often allowed Autumn to tag along when they were kids, and she came to visit us while we were in college. That reminds me, I still can’t find a memory of her making a pass at me and me rejecting her, and it’s eating me up that I did such a thing.

  “It’s weird, but I think he greatly approves of it. He mentioned how he just wants her taken care of, which seems like a strange comment as she’s taking care of herself, running her own business, living in her own place. He says she’s a natural-born caregiver, and she needs Operation Autumn 2.0 in her life.” Zack peeks over his shoulder. “Maybe she’ll stop hooking up with losers.”

  Former jests and jokes poked at me for my heavier weight or my lack of ability make me bristle at the term loser. For a moment last night, I thought Autumn would reject me because I didn’t meet her expectations. I would be a loser once more.

  I fight the instant grin wanting to curve my lips as the night turned out to be anything but losing.

  “Well, I think we should let Autumn live her life the way she sees fit. She obviously has reasons why she didn’t get pregnant before and why she wants a baby now.”

  “It’s called desperation. She’s approaching forty.”

  “Don’t be an ass. Maybe she has other reasons for wanting a baby.” I flip the next batch of pancakes and step over to the island for the serving plate. Returning to the griddle, I waited a beat too long to turn them over, and the fluffy batter browns quickly. Scooping up the new set, I fill the plate and hand it to Zack.

  As Zack’s son Oliver knocks over a glass of orange juice and the liquid streams to the edge of the island, he mumbles under this breath. “I don’t know why anyone would want one of these monsters.”

  He doesn’t mean it, but I understand his frustration. He hasn’t had to deal with his children alone enough. Maybe he’s the one who needs to get rid of his loser wife.

  13

  [Autumn]

  In the middle of the night, I wake to a sudden press of kisses on my shoulder. A warm hand palms my upper arm, and I smile despite the long day.

  When I finally made it back to the cottage, Anna sat alone on the patio.

  “Where is everyone?” The quiet made me suspicious.

  “The guys thought they were twenty-one and decided to down a few gin and tonics after a long day of sunshine. Zack bribed Bryce to watch his boys again, and he took off with Mason about an hour ago.”

  Uh-oh. That sounded like trouble waiting to happen.

  “When I went to check on Logan, he was facedown on his bed, passed out and snoring, and Ben was sick.”

  Shit. I lowered to the seat beside Anna. “Is he okay?” Ben should not be drinking.

  “He’s living his best YOLO, he tells me.” The hardy sip she takes of her wine tells me she disapproves of his actions, and I have to agree with her.

  “Will he be okay?”

  “He’ll have a wicked hangover as I imagine they all will. At least tomorrow they’re going golfing for the day.” Anna stared off at the descending sun.

  “I’m sorry I was late.”

  Rolling her head on the back of the patio chair, she gives me a weak smile. “You have your own life to live, Autumn. You don’t owe anyone an apology.”

  “But I promised I’d be here to help out.”

  “Oh, they did this to themselves.” She snorted, lifting her glass and taking another drink. I helped myself to the bottle, and we sat in silence as the sun disappeared beneath the waterline.

  Eventually, I made my way to bed, worrying that drinking might not be best for me if I’m working on getting pregnant. Then I was just agitated because I found myself upset that Logan wouldn’t be joining me after all this evening, and I’d been looking forward to another round of sex with him. I shouldn’t have been as eager as I was. It’s only sex.

  Yet here he is, waking me with kisses over my shoulder and up to my neck. At least, I hope it’s him.

  “Who is this?” I tease, and he freezes.

  “Logan,” he cautiously states. “Were you expecting someone else?”

  “Ryan Reynolds but he’s taken,” I joke.

  “Ah, are you a Deadpool girl?” he mumbles, returning his lips to my neck.

  “More like his calendar girl girlfriend, which reminds me this day is lost.” I hate the sour tone I take, reminding myself he is kissing me. “I was sleeping, by the way.”

  “No time to sleep. We have plans.”

  “Sounds like you already enjoyed the day,” I mock.

  “I’d enjoy it more if you gave me a blow job.”

  Instantly, I roll on the bed, falling to my back and peering up at him beside me. “You get drunk, pass out, wake me up, and now you want a blow job.”

  “Sure. It will restore me to rights, and we can get back to business.”

  “Are you serious?” It’s one of those moments when he could be joking, but I can’t see his face well enough in the dim light of the room. My blinds are open, and the moon is out in the sky somewhere, illuminating the bedroom in a dusky dark blue.

  “Well, you are just using me for my sperm.” His hand slides down my arm and curls around my wrist. Lifting my arm for his mouth, he sucks at the pulse point of my wrist before scraping his teeth over it.

  “Is that what you feel like? I’m using you.” I shift my head on the pillow, trying to get a better look at him.

  “I feel like I need your mouth around my dick to get me pumped up, and then I need to bury myself inside you.”

  I gasp, but his lips cover mine, swallowing the air I expel. He steals my breath as he shifts his body over mine, straddling me before releasing my lips and shoving down a pair of athletic shorts. He’s not wearing anything underneath the thin material, and despite the dark, a per
fect outline of his dick forms. He squeezes himself, and I see he’s already hard. He doesn’t need me to pump him up, but perhaps his ego needs a stroke. I don’t want him to think I’m just using him for what his body can give me. That is part of what we’re doing, but I also haven’t felt as alive as I felt with him last night. He’s stroking my ego more than he knows.

  Giving in to his request, I tip up my head as he walks on his knees over my body. Falling to one hand to balance himself over my head, he holds himself just above my lips.

  “Suck me.” I shouldn’t be so turned on by his command. Deep down, I know if I told him no, he’d move off me, but somehow, I like how demanding he is, and last night I promised him anything he said, anything he wanted to do to me, I’d take it.

  Opening my mouth, he traces over my lips with his tip, and my tongue comes forward, giving the slit a lick.

  Logan hisses. “That mouth.” He groans, and I lift again, encouraging him to enter my mouth. He holds himself at the base for a moment before I brush his hand away and take over, pulling him to the back of my throat before hollowing my cheeks and sucking him hard.

  “Shit,” he mutters, combing his fingers through my hair, petting me almost as I slide up and down his thick length, drawing him deep before slipping to the crown. My tongue swirls around the ridge before I swipe over the head once more. Opening wide, I take him deep again.

  “Okay. Enough.” He pulls out of my mouth and moves down my body, kissing my neck before lowering to my chest. He tugs the straps of my cami to the sides, locking my arms while exposing my breasts. Eagerly, he sucks at each one before leaving me in this position and moving to my briefs. Drawing them dramatically down my thighs, he pulls them from my ankles and tosses them over his shoulder. I don’t have a second to comment before he flips me to my belly.

  “Okay with this?” he asks, testing me. A warm hand rubs up my spine before he grips each of my hips and props me up on my knees. I’m a rag doll of submission and a raging bundle of hormones. He accused me of using him, but he’s proving he’s using me just as much, and as wrong as it sounds, I’m okay with this. On my knees, elbows pressed to the mattress, he swipes the thick head of his dick along the seam of my backside. His thumb follows, teasing me, and I clench.